“You’re not right, Portia. There is no ‘right’ when
it comes to harrying people’s lives. Trying to wipe
out Hidden Folk. You’ve gone beyond what I ever
thought possible.”
“We’ve always been the same,” Portia whispers. She falls to her knees, just as Hidden Folk begin to emerge from the many doors around the hall. They look confused and tired. Leanna and Freddy usher them to safety, leading them out through the large doors. “Opal, we’ve always been different. They don’t accept you any more than they accept me.”
Opal moves towards the Siren and kneels down in front of her. “Sha, I’m a neurodivergent witch. Do
you think for a single second I’ve ever cared about fitting in?”
I choke out a laugh and for the briefest second, Opal’s eyes meet mine and she winks.
“A scorpion cannot help its sting,” Portia says, reaching out to grasp Opal’s hand. “You can’t kill your oldest friend.”
“Oh, Sha,” Opal’s voice is now the one that shakes a little. “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been working on something special, specifically for you.”
“Take the Druid and the warlock into custody and remove them from this place!” Mum says to some of the other women with Gran. They obey, using magic to turn Malachi’s bindings into handcuffs. They are witches, too. I watch in fascination as a large group of middle-aged women march the two men out of the great hall.
“Take the wounded out and start tending to them,” Gran adds.
Soon the hall is almost empty. Only my family, Freddy and Portia remain. I still cling to Alona, mere feet away from my aunt and the Siren. Kneeling across from one another. The Ripple hides in the shadows of a corner.
“Little boy,” Portia addresses Marley. “Do you want your father back? Do you want your family united again? I bet you do. I can make that happen. He has another family now, a wife and three girls. They live in the rich part of town.”
Leanna starts for the Siren but Mum and Gran hold her back. The Ripple steps forward and transfigures into that same man from the beach. The one that made Leanna sad, the one I do not recognise.
It makes sense now.
“I can bring him back, Marley,” Portia says desperately. “Would you like that? One word from me, he’ll come home again. You’ll have a family”
Marley shakes his head and smiles a bittersweet smile. “I have all my family here already. Despite your best efforts.”
Gran wraps an arm around him and Mum presses her fingers against his cheek. Portia’s expression hardens, all attempts at pretending to be civil gone. She looks to Mum and her voice is deep and low; her last final attempt at influence.
“Come closer, Cass. Come and feel this fire.”
Mum takes a few steps forward and then yells, forcing herself to stop. She stands still, glaring back at the Siren.
“I’m not your puppet anymore,” she finally says, and I feel like crying. I remember that night, so long ago, when Mum and Dad were under Portia’s spell.
“Walk through the fire,” Portia reiterates.
Her voice is powerful enough to force Mum to stumble closer. Until Opal steps in front of her. The two witches, the two sisters, look at one another and Portia’s orders fade. The Siren lets out a wretched gasp of fury and then one, small and bitter laugh.
“What are you going to do to me?” she finally mutters.
Hamartia
Many years ago…
Opal was expelled. It was decreed. There was no undoing what had happened, and she wasn’t even sure if the truth of the matter would reach her parents. She had taken credit for the fire, knowing Cassandra was still battling with the knowledge of having powers. She was barely able to face the consequences of having them at all.
Cass wanted the big career. The sparkling future. She needed institutions to like her.
Opal did not.
She had run from the school, straight to the gardens. Princes Street gardens. She needed the seclusion and the shade and the anonymity of a crowd. It was easier to disappear when there were lots of people around you, she’d always found.
The gardens were quiet for once. As she entered, the large castle loomed high overhead. She made her way to her usual bench and blanched upon realising that someone else was happily sitting on it.
It was a girl her own age. She couldn’t be more than fifteen. She had beautiful eyes and she sat with a stillness that reminded Opal of the statues dotted all around Edinburgh. As if she were made of marble.
“Don’t stare at me.”
The marble girl barked the order with an imperious tone that made Opal scowl. “Excuse me?”
The girl looked instantly surprised. As if she had only meant to think the words. She stared back at Opal in amazement and Opal crossed her arms with a haughty flick of her long hair.
“Say something,” the girl on the bench snapped.
Opal smirked, almost amused by this stranger and her even stranger commands.
“Sit,” the girl said and when Opal spluttered at the sheer insult of the demand, the other girl leapt to her feet. She moved towards Opal with wide eyes and a look of complete disbelief.
“You don’t do what I say,” she finally said.
