“That would be good. Let’s go back in time, see if we can change the magic, see if we can give the other creatures their freedom from us, and then see if we can change you. Once we know, then you can decide.”
“If the other creatures get their freedom, will there even be a head witch anymore?”
He shrugs, a frown on his face. “I think so, but just head of the witches, maybe. Not of everyone else...”
“That makes sense.”
“Ellis, none of this makes sense!”
They laugh and hug and kiss again. “True. There are so many weird things going on in my life right now. I’m a witch. I’m head witch. Of all the supernatural creatures in Britain. I was nearly killed, but then also rescued, by a vampire. I’ve been millimetres away from hundreds of demons during a dark magical ceremony, and tomorrow I’m going back in time, to see if I can change the world.” They laugh. “Oh, and to make things just a little better, the most handsome, gorgeous, sexy witch in the universe – that’s you, in case you didn’t know – likes me.”
“He doesn’t like you,” Fletcher pauses just long enough to watch her eyes widen. “He loves you.”
She squeals and hugs him. “I love you too. You know that, right?”
He nods. “I do.”
“Good. And I’ll stay a witch. If you don’t mind.”
“Why would I mind?”
“I don’t know. I just worry.”
“About everything?”
She nods. “Pretty much. Life’s been hard since Molly. I can’t believe it might be okay. I might live through this, I might be with you, we might be witches together. It’s not what I thought would happen to me. Brilliant things don’t happen to me.”
“Well, they do now. Great and weird and scary and stranger than fiction. All of it. And, I know you’ve been sad since Molly, but you deserve good things, happiness, love.”
She shakes her head. “Not always.”
“Yes.” He refuses to hear any more and cuts her off with a kiss. Or two. Or a hundred.
Ellis
If only he knew. I don’t deserve good things. Not really.
That sharp needle of guilt and shame is back, digging into me, stopping me from breathing easily and stopping me from enjoying my life.
The guilt of wishing your best friend dead. Oh, I know I didn’t really wish her dead, but I enjoyed her being out of the limelight, I enjoyed being free from the coldness of living in her shadow.
I pull back from Fletcher’s kisses; I don’t deserve them.
I deserve to be killed by demons or vampires or shifters or evil fairies.
Don’t I?
I’m so confused and emotional that I know what I really need is sleep.
Fletcher loves me and I love him, and tomorrow we go back in time to deal with some crazy witch who decided that all the supernatural creatures should be under her control so she could kill them and kill the humans at the same time.
Nice.
I can’t wait.
“I need some sleep.” I am reluctant to let him go, and I can tell he’s reluctant to leave me. What did I ever do to deserve this? The best-looking boy on the planet reckons he’s in love with me!
It must be the witch thing. I am definitely staying a witch. No way I’m going back to plain old, boring old me and giving him a chance to fall out of love with me.
I’m not as gorgeous and glossy as the true-born witches, but being head witch must give me some allure. There’s no other reason a witch like Fletcher would fall for me, otherwise.
Not really.
I feel crap, so when he shuts the door, I magic up some chocolate, pop and crisps and have a little feast on the bed before letting myself snuggle under the covers that still smell of him, and drift off to sleep, remembering his hands running over my body, down my thighs, across my shoulders, along the top – very top – of my chest. Nothing to get too excited about, but still the most exciting thing to ever happen to me.
Boys don’t kiss me or touch me or fall in love with me.
Not before all of this, anyway.
Yeah, it’s the witch thing. Has to be.
I wake up feeling a little better. Who am I to question if a gorgeous witch wants to fall in love with me? Let him fall! And if it’s the witch thing that’s helping me, so what? I didn’t ask to be a witch, or choose to be a witch, or deliberately trick him into falling for me.
I’m taking it, and running with it, and enjoying it.
I shower, dress and head downstairs, ready for whatever madness the day will bring.
I feel like we’re getting somewhere, that maybe the end of this nightmare is in sight. Ember is sorting out any lingering rebels, and we’ll placate the council by figuring out how to undo the whole ‘head witch in charge of them’ thing.
Easy!
I can smell the bacon before I reach the kitchen, and my mouth is watering, my cheeks puckering at the thought of it. Delicious!
I love how much Elodie cooks, my mum, bless her – and in fairness she is busy with dead people – does not cook much. Especially not for breakfast. We get croissants but they’re shop bought. Elodie’s are fresh, and not magic ones either.
Not that it’s a competition. I love my mum, but bacon for breakfast is definitely welcome.
Fletcher is already eating. As much as I might have liked him to, he didn’t sleep in with me last night. A text from his mum reminded him that there were pillows and a blanket on the sofa for him.
He kisses me good morning and pours me a drink of orange juice.
“Thank you. What is the plan for today?”
Elodie pops another plate of fresh pastries on the table, and I grin at her before helping myself. I’ll miss this once all this
