Flailing, the witch dropped his wand and tried to free himself from the feline ball of fury’s smothering, slicing grip.
Amanda immediately took to her heels and ran out of the side door, into air thick with smoke. She hurried, bent double, coughing helpfully, her eyes streaming.
Tempest jumped clear, as a foe outside, seeing through the door that the brown-haired man was distracted, fired a volley of spells, bringing him to the hall floor, clothes smouldering. If not dead, then likely soon to be.
Sirens filled the Moor. Amanda looked back to see the attacking witches rushing to the doors, then dragging out the dead and wounded. Some came out carrying … she couldn’t see through her streaming eyes. There was no time for more.
Amanda staggered out of the concealing smoke into the dark. Suddenly thunder ripped through the clouds and lighting flared, illuminating the ground, exposing her position. A cry went up. A wand-shot whistled past her ear. Amanda had been seen. She tried to run. Smoke choking, lungs closing, coughing, blinded by tears, air fizzing in her ears, she fell. Trelawney caught her as she heard his voice,
‘Twenty minutes are up.’ Amanda’s legs were collapsing under her. He knew she was about to lose consciousness. ‘Stay with me, Miss Cadabra, stay with me.’ He ducked, pulling her closer to the ground with him, as another shot flew past. Trelawney got her to the place where the portal had been. ‘You have to say the spell. Amanda. You have to get us back.’
Rasping, she got the words out. He carried her through, Tempest stepping nimbly across the time-boundary, as the portal shrunk and disappeared.
Her breath grating through her throat, knowing the blackout was coming, Amanda managed to whisper,
‘I know what happened. It wasn’t Lucy!’
Chapter 45
The Wand of Agacine Flamgoyne
‘Good grief,’ muttered Hogarth. ‘Let’s get her to the car.’
On the back seat, Trelawney held Amanda as he patted her pockets until he found her inhaler. The spray into the back of her throat brought her round. They opened all of the windows and Hogarth drove off. Tempest snuggled close to Amanda’s leg, and in the fresh air, she began to recover.
Once back at Hogarth’s, Trelawney quickly carried in Amanda, and placed her upright on the sofa.
‘Sorry, Amanda, but we have to be quick.’
She whispered, ‘Photos.’
Hogarth spread them out on the table.
Amanda nodded and pointed rather shakily,
‘Yes, she was there and her and these two at least. This woman or maybe this one or this one?’
‘Your aunt or mother?’
‘They looked remarkably similar with the long brown wavy hair. Anyway, she was the one who went in that door they’d been fighting over, — it must have led down to the cellar — and came out with The Grimoire and then went out the back door from the kitchen.’
‘Did you follow her?’ Hogarth asked.
There was the tiniest of pauses, before Amanda replied, ‘No. Then the building collapsed and blocked that exit.’
Hogarth had noticed the flicker of emotion. He looked at her searchingly. Something ... but now was not the time to pursue it. Perhaps never. ‘How did you get clear?’
‘Tempest. He, er,’ Amanda smiled wanly, ‘distracted the one man in the hall who would have seen me. Couldn’t have waited; the place was up in flames.'’
Hogarth looked at Amanda's familiar.
‘Well done, Tempest and well done you, my dear.’
‘Thank you, Uncle Mike, but I wouldn’t have made it to the portal without the inspector either.’
‘Then well done, local hero,’ Hogarth added, with the faintest of twinkles at Trelawney. ‘Let’s get you some tea. Thomas, stay with Amanda.’ Hogarth looked at her. ‘You just rest for now ....’
‘Yes but —’
‘All right, Amanda. In a minute.’
She shut her eyes, leaning back against Trelawney, who was still supporting her. However, once Amanda had drunk some tea, she revived, sat up and thanked him. He moved away and asked her,
‘Just before you passed out, you said. “I know what happened. It wasn’t Lucy.”’
‘What did you mean, my dear?’ asked Hogarth.
‘I saw it. It wasn’t Lucy who was responsible for the death of Mordren Dowrkampyer.’ She looked at the intent but bewildered faces of her friends. ‘I have to explain.’
‘All right, Amanda. Take your time,’ Hogarth bade her calmly.
‘Well, Grandpa taught me that there are three parts to casting a spell:
Erm … the right words, the right intention, the right focus. When the three intersect, the spell goes forth. Words, intention and focus,’ Amanda repeated, her voice growing stronger, her breathing deeper and steadier.
‘Ok. Got that,’ confirmed Hogarth.
‘Until the release .... Look, the wand is just an instrument of focus. You say the words and make the intention for the spell, and then you focus it through the wand or staff or whatever.’
‘Understood.’
‘Agacine Flamgoyne was saying the words, and I could feel the power of her murderous intent all across the hall. She had cocked back her wrist, ready to flick forward … when she was killed.’ Amanda didn’t think she'd got her message across.
‘Listen. She was saying the words, she had the intention to kill Mordren, the wand was her focussing tool. The intent was to fire at the end of the words! She was killed before she could say all of the words.’
Hogarth and Trelawney were looking at her. But Amanda couldn’t tell if they’d understood. She went on emphatically,
‘Don’t you see? The wand was charged! Like a gun, loaded, primed and cocked. It could have gone off in the hands of anyone who picked it up. Lucy — Elodie — was just looking around for anything to
