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Even though Rebecca’s mother’s blood isn’t required for the spell we’re casting, we’ve modified it a little. Using her blood will strengthen the results, making them harder to break.
He steps past Emilia and reaches inside his coat, retrieving a glass vial half filled with red liquid.
“Thank you,” I say, taking it from him and handing it to Rita.
Emilia steps back inside the circle and we all sit. I made sure to leave the back door open, so there’s a light breeze flowing into the room. Rita places a large spell bowl in front of her and begins throwing in the ingredients. First in is the moss, then the bottle of dragon blood (I’m not rolling my eyes, I promise), next are the cinnamon sticks, which she breaks up in her hands and crumbles into the bowl, and then she pours in just three drops of clove oil. In following with how we planned the spell earlier, we each take one of the now half melted ice cubes, lick them and throw them into the bowl in unison.
Rita uncaps the vial of Felicity’s blood and pours the whole thing in, before swiftly grabbing the bottle of vodka and emptying it into the bowl. She picks up the packet of matches, lights one up, flicks in it and the concoction lights up into multicoloured flames. The air in the room thickens with what I have come to recognise as magic in the atmosphere.
Rita, Emilia and I take each other’s hands and begin the chant that we all learned off by heart earlier.
“Earth, Wind, Fire and Water, Nature, Ice and Creatures of Myth, lend unto us your power. Give us your strength and protect this child. By saying your names, so it is done.”
The colourful flames burn higher and Rebecca cries out a little as the rope around her wrists tightens. The tightening only lasts for a second before the knot miraculously unties itself and her hands fall free. An unnaturally strong wind blows into the room, putting out the fire in the bowl and the spell is complete.
Silence fills the space.
“Is that it? Is it done?” Pamphrock asks with urgency.
Emilia turns to him, smiling, but for some reason I get the feeling it’s a fake smile. One she’s practised for many years. “It is done, Governor. Your daughter is safe now.”
Not seeing why she would be smiling at him falsely, I brush off the suspicion.
Pamphrock rushes to Rebecca’s side and lifts her into his arms. “My God,” he exclaims. “It’s true, the spell really worked.” He takes a deep breath. “She smells different now, she smells just like you, Tegan.”
He puts Rebecca down and approaches me, pulling me up by the hand and taking me into his embrace. “I don’t know how to thank you,” he says. His words are so grateful. I feel like saying it was nothing, because when it came down it it wasn’t that hard to do, but obviously the spell means everything to him.
“I’m just glad to be of help,” I say to him, catching Finn standing by the counter and smiling at me. He must know how awkward I am receiving praise.
Pamphrock turns to thank Rita, and I stay caught up in Finn’s stare. The happiness is short lived though, because a minute later Rebecca lets out a desperate cry, “Daddy!”
We all turn around to find that while we weren’t paying attention, Emilia had taken the rope we used in the spell, cut it into two and used it to tie up Rebecca’s hands and feet. She doesn’t look like a particularly strong woman, yet she’s got Rebecca thrown over her shoulder like she weighs nothing.
She holds a squirming Rebecca in place with one hand, while raising the other up to us. The electrical fire that is just like mine spills out, holding us all at bay.
“Emilia Petrovsky! What do you think you’re doing?” Pamphrock demands in anger.
Rita uses both of her hands to throw some kind of ray of light at Emilia, but she keeps it from touching her by flinging a bunch of sparks that disintegrate the light on contact.
“I’m taking the child. You don’t deserve her,” Emilia spits, her face contorted with desperation.
“She doesn’t belong to you, hand her back,” says Pamphrock, making a clear effort to stay calm. When he tries to step forward, Emilia burns him with her sparks and he flinches as they hit him in the face.
“She’s my chance to make things right,” Emilia wails, tears suddenly streaming down her face. This is the point at which I get what’s happening. Emilia wants to take Rebecca and keep her as a daughter because her real daughter ran away all those years ago.
“She’s not yours,” I shout, leaping into action and throwing my sparks at her. Unfortunately, since we both possess the same method of defence, we seem to cancel one another out. Neither of us is able to throw the other off.
Her body begins to spin in a circle, as she rapidly mutters a spell. The sparks spread out around her and Rebecca, like a mini tornado. It forms into a spinning, glittering shield and it’s clear that there’s no getting past it. The force of it in the small room causes us all to fall to the floor. I blink my eyes after the fall, trying to find my bearings, and I look up just in time to see Emilia spinning out the back door, both her and Rebecca still contained within the sparks.
Chapter Twelve
You’ve Dug This Grave For Months, I’m Just Giving You A Little Shove
The moment she’s gone all the doors and windows slam shut. Finn and Pamphrock jump up and try to get the back door open, but it won’t budge. Rita mutters a spell to try and release the locks on the windows, but they aren’t budging either. We push and shove, trying to get out of the room and go after Emilia, but we’re locked in tight.
“She’s locked us in,” Rita exclaims, stating the obvious.
Finn gives her a look. “If brains were dangerous you’d be the only one safe.”
