‘Belchamber,’said Opal, and she glanced down the roof at the spirit and her silent audience beside him. ‘He begged me not to throw him from the window. I wondered why he was being so specific. Then, I understood.’ Opal clambered down the roof toward her, covered in vomit and Dot’s blood. ‘With all the other wards weakened, you still had the keystone ward. You could easily reinstate them all – so long as you had a little time. Even today, the tea shop wards were weakened but still intact. But with you and Belchamber now out of the house, the keystone is yanked away – all of that is correct, isn’t it, T? What we see before us is a perfect shell, with wards waiting to be taken over by the daemon.’ Opal glanced sideways at her, in a moment of rare sincerity. ‘But this is my last scrap of loyalty to you cashed in. I am going to shatter the tea shop for you, so you and Dottie won’t be caged within the walls you once called home.’
‘Opal,’ called Lio. ‘Will Salamander forgive you for this?’
‘Look at your hands,’ said Theodora, bargaining. ‘You have the affliction, Opal. We can teach you to manage it.’
‘I won’t let you hurt me again,’ said the addled woman.
‘Opal, please,’ cried Theodora.
‘No,’ spat Opal. ‘You were the one who turned me into this awful thing. But,Theodora,I am a better person than you. I fended offSalamander. I took only Dorothy’s blood. Today, I’ll take Dorothy’s finger. I am doing my darndest to spare her life, and I will spare you too from witnessing what Salamander has planned for your tea shop.’
Theodora reached for her magic, but even as she did, she knew it was no use. What spell of hers could counteract Dot’s strange magic? The wave coursed down the street, collecting motor cars and dust bins and a man walking his dog and a flurry of spirits, all of them swept up by the torrent of magical sea water. Theodora sent a halting spell at it, anyway. It did nothing. She sent a freezing spell. What if she dove into the water? What if she seized Dot’s finger back from Opal and drew on the afflicted magic? She might kill Dot, or Opal would snatch Dot’s body into a portal and be gone. Theodora stepped forward and almost off the roof but Rupert appeared beside her, caught her arm and tugged her back.
The wave surged with fatal speed.
Theodora stared, now, at the big arched windows.
She had set down every floorboard.
She had painted every wall.
Everything she owned and everything she was had existed within that shop, in the worn armchairs and dusty shelves of sextants and spell books, in the statues, and staircases, and the ornate vases, and the statue of the maiden she had given her own vest. It washertea shop.
Theodora had never really had a home before.
This was her first and only.
This was where Theodora had slept upon the wooden floor until she had built her own bed; where Rupert had run to, with bruises on his cheeks, and found for the first time in his life, safety; where Dot had learned to use her magic; where Lio had scrubbed the skirting boards.
Now the wave was only two buildings away.
Now, only one.
The vicious water swung around the intersection of Wren Court and Ethel Avenue.
And the tea shop, in one vicious force of water, was smashed to pieces.
Rupert let out a hollow cry. He almost slipped off the roof, but Theodora held him as wave after wave surged and broke the walls, shattered the windows, carried out the armchairs and plates and parts of the banisters. Another wave crashed now into the ground floor, then the basement workshop. With this, a string of explosions rang out from the shop – like gunpowder lit, bolts of magic ran across the city. Explosion after explosion, from the Market District all the way to the city walls, Theodora’s wards shattered one by one.
One final, violent burst of water swelled and, with it, the last of the tea shop was destroyed and swept down Ethel Avenue. Theodora, Dot, Lio, Rupert and Archie stood or sat against the slanted roof, staring as the tide carried away the artefacts of their lives: a carpet bag, an icebox, the statue of the maiden, beheaded.
‘You are all very welcome,’ said Opal. She cradled the raven and turned around to cast a portal. Right as Opal made to step through and leave the rooftop to the safety of Salamander’s department store, Rupert darted up along the tiles. He scribbled in pen against his hand and shot a spell at Opal.
Opal dodged it, but slipped a little on the roof. She gasped as she righted herself. She made to sneer at the boy, to poke fun at his failed attempt and that was when Opal realised. Her face contorted. Her eyes went wide.
For Rupert had not sent the spell at Opal but at the raven.
A summoning spell.
The bird was snatched out of the air by the boy’s magic.
It soared toward him. The boy charged forward and caught the raven by its throat.
He pulled out the bread knife that he had taken from the gutter.
‘Put him down!’shrieked Opal.
‘It’s just a bird,’ cried Rupert. ‘What’s a bird in comparison to everything you’ve done? To our home? To Dot? This is what youdeserve.’
