THE ACCIDENTAL END
THE ACCIDENTAL WITCH TRILOGY, Volume 3
Gemma Perfect
Published by Gemma Perfect, 2020.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
The Accidental End
Ellis
1
Ellis
2
Ellis
3
Ellis
4
Ellis
5
Ellis
6
Ellis
7
Ellis
8
Ellis
9
Ellis
10
Ellis
11
Ellis
12
Ellis
13
Ellis
14
Ellis
15
16
Ellis
17
Ellis
18
Thank you!
The Accidental End
First published in 2020 by Gemma Perfect
Copyright © Gemma Perfect 2020
The moral right of Gemma Perfect to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Gemma Perfect. All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Ellis
Magic always wins in a fair fight. I know they keep repeating it, like some sort of mantra, but even as I hear it, it sounds hollow to me.
I’m in so much pain. My wrist, though mended, is sore, and my ribs hurt. Every breath is a sharp pain that reminds me how close I came to dying tonight.
I’m done. I just want to go home. I miss normal. I miss boring. I miss my mum, and dad, and Isaac. I miss my dead people.
Fletcher takes my good hand and leads me upstairs. I need a shower, although I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stand. I feel so weak.
I keep getting flashbacks of Efa’s face, the cruel snarl as she kicked me, desperate to hurt me.
What did I ever do?
I feel so sorry for myself. This world of witches and demons and battles to the death isn’t my world. My world is annoying my brother, mourning my best friend’s death, and looking after corpses.
I don’t like Fletcher’s world. I love Fletcher. I really do, but I could live without everybody else.
He sits me on his bed, and I cry out in pain. Moving isn’t helping. I need to be still, but I need to be clean. I need to sleep for a hundred years, like some sad version of Sleeping Beauty. Sleeping broken, bruised and smelly, maybe.
Fletcher stands in front of me, concern making him look even more handsome than normal.
“What can I do?”
I shake my head. I’m too sad to even try to figure it out. “It hurts when I sit, it hurts when I stand, it hurts when I move.”
He leans his head so gently against mine. “I’m so sorry, Ellis. I’ve always felt bad that you’ve been caught up in this, but you nearly died tonight...”
“We all nearly died tonight.”
And in fairness, I didn’t do a lot in this fight we lived through tonight. Everyone protected me, and each one of them fought for me.
I am sobbing now. I feel useless, and helpless, and hopeless. Even at the end, if John hadn’t rescued me, I’d have died without even fighting to live.
“I’m so rubbish. How can a head witch be so rubbish?”
He kisses my head, and I let out a brief moan. Not an ‘in pain’ moan, but an ‘ooh that was nice’ moan.
Way to stay cool, Ellis.
“Ellis, this isn’t meant to be rude, but you’re an accidental head witch. Of course, you can’t do magic or fight like a genuine witch. We learn our magic the way you learned to walk. It’s in us from babies and we know how to harness it.”
“But the fighting? That’s not taught in nursery school, is it?”
“No.” He smiles. “But it’s an extension of our magic. I know instinctively how to kill a demon and nine times out of ten it will work. If it doesn’t work, I can make a fire, or an ice storm, or a hundred other random magical things that might work.”
“I just feel so useless. Every one of you risked your life for me tonight, and every one of you got hurt.”
“Including you. Don’t beat yourself up; you’re in enough pain as it is.”
“I need a bath, but I feel woozy. I might drown.”
He kisses me again. “Just sit. Let me run it. Let me help you.”
I can hear him in the bathroom, running the taps, muttering to himself, and I close my eyes. I could just sleep. Just sleep until it’s all over. Let them fight, let them battle, let them figure out how to stop Zeta and Efa.
I open my eyes, because he calls me. He helps me up and leads me into the bathroom. The bath is full of bubbles and looks ridiculously inviting.
And then I feel shy. I cannot undress myself. I definitely don’t want anyone else to help me. But I don’t want him to see me with no clothes on, either.
He kisses my cheek and then my lips, only softly, only gently, and I close my eyes, ready to drown in his kisses, revel in his touch.
Then he’s undressing me. I touch the wall, leaning against it, to keep myself upright, as he pulls off my boots, then my socks.
I hope my feet don’t smell.
He undoes the button on my jeans and pulls them down, crouching in front of me, pulling one leg off and then the next. He stands up and looks at me, eyes filled with a desire I know we cannot act on. I feel safe with him. I know he knows how much I love him, but I also know he knows how much pain I’m in.
He kisses me again and my skin breaks out in goose bumps.
He’s even slower undressing my top half. It hurts so much. I try to lift my arms up, but I can’t. I cry out in pain, and he kisses my forehead. “It’s okay. I’ll do it this way.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he pulls down one sleeve, untucks my arm from it, and the next one, leaving my arms inside my top, strangely trapped.
I want to look away from him; this feels too intimate, too grown up. But I cannot look away from him.
He lifts my top up, pulling it over
