Is this a trap? I try to tune in to some witchy intuition, and I have none. Again, I’m struck by my utter uselessness as a witch. My highlight is making chocolate and pizza out of thin air – and while that’s pretty delicious, it’s hardly life saving.
And – I haven’t mentioned this to Fletcher because I don’t want to worry him – when I was alone with Zeta yesterday, I could not make even the most basic magic work. I tried to shoot flames at her, but I couldn’t. I still don’t know whether I froze through fear, or if there’s something wrong with me.
I mean, there’s a lot wrong with me. But I know what I mean.
And here we all go, ready to kill or be killed once again.
We head around the back of Zeta’s cottage, keeping super quiet. A stupid compulsion to laugh comes over me. In the middle of this ridiculously serious, life-threatening situation, I want to laugh. I can only imagine how daft we all look – creeping along, me still holding hands with Fletcher, on our way to murder a few people.
What has happened to my life?
We pause and congregate behind the gate. Elodie looks at me, a question on her face. I shake my head – I cannot feel anything, know anything, sense anything. I am the worst witch.
She pushes open the gate and we follow her through.
The yard is empty, tidy. It looks recently swept. Why do I notice such weird and random – and completely pointless – things?
Elodie pushes open the back door, and we follow her in.
The house is quiet, but I know she’s here. I can sense her.
Zeta and Efa, if I’m right.
I could well be wrong.
I often am.
Elodie turns to us. “Jane, David, Sally, girls, go upstairs. Ellis, Fletcher, Ember, with me.”
We do as we’re told, splitting up and creeping onwards.
Elodie pushes open the door to the lounge and I take a deep breath.
Is this it? Are we going to find Zeta packing up her life into cardboard boxes, her charming daughter helping her, and swiftly finish them off?
Could it be this easy?
We find them exactly as I imagined. Zeta is kneeling on the floor, glamourous as ever, holding a sheaf of papers and organising them into a folder. Efa is packing books into an enormous box, they are both smiling and chatting.
They don’t look surprised to see us, but they don’t jump up or attempt to attack us.
“Morning,” Ember says, a scowl on her beautiful face. “Not moving away, are you?”
“Without saying goodbye?” Elodie sounds just as sarcastic as her sister.
It’s definitely them, but they are weirdly silent, weirdly... amenable.
“Any last words, Zeta?”
Again, this doesn’t get a response. No argument, no witty retort.
Elodie looks over to me, finding their behaviour as strange as I do. “Is it definitely them?”
I nod. It is. Maybe they’ve just realised that the game is over. They have no hope of winning against us, no hope of attacking us and escaping. They’re cornered.
Ember holds up her hand and with two quick blasts of fire, she kills them both.
They are dead.
We step away from their smouldering bodies and look at each other. The door opens, and David steps in. He takes in the two dead bodies and whoops. The others follow him in, all staring at Zeta and Efa.
“Fantastic! You did it. What did she say?” Jane hugs Elodie.
“Did she beg for her life?” Thea asks.
Elodie shakes her head. “She didn’t say a word. She didn’t put up a fight.”
“Not one word.”
I step away from the group. This feels wrong. Too easy.
I call over my shoulder to Fletcher. “Fletcher, light this fire.”
He does as I ask, and the entire group turns to me. They know what I’m going to do. I’m going to call out their names, see if their likeness appears in the flames. Check that they are dead. This feels... odd.
The flames lick up quickly, Fletcher’s magic hastening it along. I remember Elodie’s instructions – to look at the tip of one flame.
I call Zeta first.
Then I snap out of my reverie. “Is she alive?”
Fletcher shakes his head, a grim look on his face. “Dead.”
I do the same for Efa and she’s dead too.
None of us look that happy, though. I’m not even sure why.
Fletcher sighs. “Let’s go.”
“What about the demons, what about her henchmen?”
“There’s nobody else here. All we can do is go home. Be vigilant. But with the instigator dead, I can’t see that we’re in any immediate danger.”
The twins and Sally smile at each other, hug, cry.
I take Fletcher’s hand and we all head outside.
The street is quiet. Well, it’s not quiet; it’s Mumbles. But there aren’t any manic witches, or murderous shifters, or evil vampires or deranged fairies waiting for us.
It just feels like an anti-climax. But then this isn’t a film, where the last battle scene is so epic it gives you goose bumps, before the hero and heroine jump into bed, and the credits roll.
This is real life. Infinitely disappointing.
I close my eyes when Fletcher puts his arms around me, I will never not enjoy this, and we fly back home.
Funny how I think of it as home now, even though my actual home is only up the road. I feel a rush of excitement. I might still be head witch, but if the immediate danger is over, and with Zeta and Efa being dead, it seems like it is, then I can go home.
A feeling of peace spreads through me, and we all gather in the kitchen.
“Is that it? Is it over?” Thea grins at her mother. Ember nods. “I think so. We just killed the pair of them, and they were the leaders of the pack.”
I’m enjoying Ember being at a loss. We all feel the same, so it isn’t fair to single her out, but she looks so confused. Did we just end this entire thing, so quickly, so quietly, so easily...
But it seems like we did. It wasn’t a trick. We
