Cynthia froze, unsure of what to do. Helena was slipping deeper into the pool, her red hair spiralling in the water, pulsing like copper sunlight. Her pale skin glowed in the dark water as her grey eyes flashed silver. She extended her arms wide as her shift billowed in the current. The water began to swirl around her, a living vortex with Helena at its heart.
‘Lady Burrows. What a surprise. It seems I ’ave caught two doves with one net.’
Cynthia’s spine stiffened. She didn’t need to turn to know who stood behind her, but neither would she give an enemy her back. Slowly, she pivoted.
‘Doves are far too gentle, Sinclair. I am no bird of peace.’ She would show him no fear.
‘What should I compare you to then? Bats, perhaps?’
A piercing bark and the clattering of claws on the tile floor heralded Hamlet’s entrance. He skidded around a corner, one of his pursuers slipping on the tile and crashing in a heap. The man behind him tried to leap over the sudden obstacle but he wasn’t able to clear the mountain of tangled limbs and hulking shoulders. He went head over feet in a splatter on the floor. Three other men were far enough behind the collision to alter their courses and manoeuvre around their fallen comrades.
As Hamlet streaked past Sinclair and made a beeline for Cynthia, she threw up her hands instinctively. ‘Stop!’ The air tightened around the men, freezing them in place. One man had his hand on his gun, another’s eyes were bulging as his hands were trapped in front of him, fingers curled into claws. The third man’s mouth was open on a silent scream. Flexing her arms, they lifted several feet off the ground.
Sinclair glanced behind him at his levitating men, then back to Cynthia. He whistled long and low, pulling a pistol from where it was holstered on his back. ‘I knew your friend was a witch, but I ’ad know idea you were one of ’em. I wonder, Lady Burrows, are you powerful enough to stop a bullet?’
A flash of light exploded in her peripheral as the acrid stench of magnesium filled the room.
Cynthia flicked her gaze to her right and saw the giant huddling over a camera on a stand.
Hamlet’s hackles rose as his body vibrated with a wicked snarl.
Sinclair reached behind him with his free hand and pulled another pistol.
How many bloody pistols does this devil have?
‘Of course, which bullet would you stop?’ One of his guns pointed at Hamlet, the other barrel stared her down like the black eye of a cyclops. ‘I planned on catching Miss Blair in the act, but I’m ’appy to blackmail the both of you.’ He turned his face to speak to someone on her periphery while keeping his eyes on Cynthia. ‘Take another picture. Make sure you get the men.’ Sinclair’s barked command preceded another blinding flash. Spots exploded in her eyes as she blinked fiercely to clear the sting of smoke.
Her power was faltering. She couldn’t hold the men. One of them screamed as he shifted in the air, nearly crashing to the ground.
The memory came to her fast and fierce.
‘Darling girl, do you know how much I love you?’
Cynthia looked into her mother’s green eyes and felt the tears well. Something was terribly wrong with her. She could see the fear swimming behind her mother’s love, confirming Cynthia’s worst fears. She was too wild. Too headstrong. Too different to ever be the young lady her parents wanted.
‘I’m sorry, Mother. I’m trying to be proper. I promise.’
Her mother shook her head, her hair – so like Cynthia’s – held its perfect form. ‘It isn’t your fault. But you can fix it. I can show you how. All it takes is a single drop of blood. And you must repeat the words after me, just as I say them.’
Fear welled, but Cynthia wanted to make her mother proud. She wanted to be a good girl.
Her mother took a pin from her hair and held it against Cynthia’s thumb.
‘Ready?’
Cynthia bit her lip, refusing to let the tears fall. She nodded.
The pain only lasted a second. A single bead of crimson sat like a pearl on her thumb.
‘“With this blood, I bind my powers. Forever hidden, they shall be. With this blood, I bind my powers. Only I can set them free.” Say the words, Cynthia. Say them and all will be well.’
Cynthia repeated her mother’s chant in a tremulous voice that got stronger with each repetition.
The droplet of crimson rose from her finger, spinning and sparkling like a ruby until it dissipated into mist. And with it, her newfound magic faded like a dream. The power filling her was gone. Her heart echoed in the emptiness.
Gasping, Cynthia pulled out of the memory.
‘Only I can set my powers free.’Shehad bound her magic. So,shecould release it. She only needed blood. Pulling a pin from her hair, she pressed the edge to her finger, ignoring the pain as crimson welled. Words formed on her lips like a spell. ‘With this blood, I set my powers free.’ The ground quaked beneath her feet, cracking the tile.
