Dot threw up her arms. ‘Theodora, therearen’tany newt eyes here!’
The outburst startled them both. Dot’s hands flew over her mouth. Theodora stared.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Dot, shrinking, ‘I didn’t mean to. Oh, I’m so sorry. I just—’
Dot braced for the witch’s hostility. Oh, she had ruined everything. Theodora would tell her that she was a burden, that she was an imbecile, that she should leave the tea shop for good.
‘Eye of newt,’ said Theodora after a moment, ‘isn’tnewt eyes. It’s mustard seed.’
And the witch burst into bright and beautiful laughter.
A deep blush crept over Dot’s face. She turned to the buckets beside her and immediately spotted a container of sand-coloured seeds. She scooped a cupful and when her eyes met Theodora’s, the witch doubled over and wheezed. Dot covered her face in her hands. The witch’s cackles rang through the room until, at last, Dot gave in and laughed too.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Dorothy Louise Walcott had never been bad at anything intellectual in her life, and so the irony was not lost on her that she had come all the way to Alliaster only to realise her magic was utterly unreachable. Her old nightmares returned – vivid, crashing phantoms of coursing waves, black against the night. That strange, faraway voice spoke, and in plumed the ominous sense that a mortal price had been paid. In tumbled the sound of a girl screaming.
Dot had grown so used to this haunting that when she awoke, it took her several seconds to realise that the sound of shouting came not from within her head, but without.
‘You have no right to call me a liar!’
Theodora’s voice thundered through the house.
Lio’s voice cried back,‘Youarea liar! I knew there was no reason for you to—’
‘My enterprise is none of your business!’
Dot’s dressing gown was on. She padded along the landing and down the stairs and peered into the living room. There was Theodora, in an evening gown and a jewelled headpiece; Lio was in pyjamas. It took Dot a moment to notice Belchamber by the mantle and Rupert on the sofa, half-buried under the blanket, clearly woken by the ruckus.
‘The third month of autumn!’ shouted Lio, brandishing the maroon envelope. ‘That is half a year away!’
‘You are a conniving hypocrite,’ said Theodora, snatching the letter from him. With a spark of flame from her hand, she burned it to cinders.
‘Good business, my left foot,’scoffed Lio. ‘You couldn’t even—’
‘Do not distract from what you’ve done.’ Theodora now pointed at the living room’s large rug, which was half-overturned, revealing that same symbol that was carved into the floor of the basement workshop and the tea shop, both. It was a rune. ‘This was your intent the whole time, wasn’t it? To weaken my wards and let Catherine Weyer into my house!’
‘Of course it wasn’t!’ spluttered Lio, but Dot saw the flush in his cheeks. ‘I haven’t touched the wards!’
Theodora leaped at him, her body stretching, transforming. The dark nightgown warped and she was, at once, a monstrous creature, gargoyle-like and huge. A warm wind tumbled in and the smell of magic and lilac engulfed them.
‘Mistress!’ cried Belchamber. The little spirit flew to her side, but Theodora shook him off. ‘Perhaps there is an explanation!’
The witch’s monstrous form dragged Lio to the floor. He yelled. And, in the scuffle, the witch did not seem to notice the tremor of the tea shop floor, did not hear the silence that descended, did not spot the light that now flashed outside the windows, nor smell the foreign magic seeping in.
‘Theodora!’ cried Dot.
The witch halted. She returned to human form and saw, at last, what Dot was seeing. Rupert’s eyes were wide, his breaths thin, his freckled skin almost green. The boy jerked and let out an ear-splitting wail as thick tendrils of magic spilled from his mouth.
‘Rupe,’ said Theodora, reaching for him.
Magic spilled from the boy’s lips, morphing into uncanny silhouettes that encircled the room, dancing, smirking and singing in their strange language. His screams rattled the windows and Dot yanked her hands over her ears. Rupert thrashed about, the dark shadows now surging faster as Theodora scooped him into her arms.
‘What in the devil’s name is happening?’ gasped Lio, pulling himself from the floor.
‘Move.’ Theodora flicked her hand and Lio was thrust across the room. He stumbled and caught the wall beside Dot. Belchamber flew to the lamps and lit them. With another flick of Theodora’s fingers, the coffee table and mess of books cartwheeled away, and the rug smoothed and covered the rune once more. Rupert flailed, but the witch held him tight. She laid him against the carpet.
‘Acanthi?’ called Lio over the boy’s wailing.
