Page 59 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

Is it…a giant worm?

No. Not exactly. It’s not like any worm I’ve seen. For one thing, it has…appendages—not quite limbs, not quite tentacles. For another, it’s vertical more than horizontal; this is a hideous creature with limbs all over its body and a giant, gaping maw at the top. The creature is mottled gray, striations of color running with mucus or slime, and the limbs strike out violently, lashing the water.

It doesn’t seem to be able to see us. But it senses us some other way.

This seems to be a beast of endless grasping hunger, and I experience a moment of horrified recognition. Is this because of me? If I was distilled to my essence, is this how I’d look? No, that can’t be true. This can’t be because of me, right? I didn’t summon this monster.

As I wrestle with the fear that I’m calling these somehow, another creature pops up, smaller than the first, then another. And another. They might be a horrible family.

“What are those?” Tara breathes.

“The more pressing question is, how hostile are they?” Zeph adds.

Rosa snorts. “I’m pretty sure they want to eat us.”

I have no answers, but I touch the pouch I wear around my neck. Da has always insisted it’s an emergency measure. If ever there’s a time to put on the bracelet, it’s now.

I’m not a fighter. I prefer to slink in and out of situations, and when confrontation can’t be avoided, I’m better at keeping my eyes down and pretending to be contrite.

But I don’t think these creatures can hear us, so they wouldn’t be interested in an apology. Maybe they sense us through the vibrations of our movements? I shift to test that theory, and a boneless jelly tube slams into the soil, knocking me to the boggy ground. As I roll backward in the foul-smelling water, I yank to break the strings on the little bag.

And put the bracelet on.

My arm glows with faint amber light, and the gemstones crumble to dust, leaving me with the thin silver band and a shimmery golden blade that’s like an extension of my hand. I don’t need to practice with it; I can swing it as easily as moving my arm. It leaves a shimmering trail when I slice the air experimentally. Courage that could only come from my dad suffuses me.

You can do this, my gem. You can do anything.

For a moment, I hear his voice—or an echo of it—and then I hear Tara say, “Thea, what’re you trying to prove? Get away from there! Kerboros, do something.”

I’m not proving anything. I’m protecting people I care about. This isn’t natural to me, and I’m not happy about it, but I won’t cower. Not when this is my fault. Maybe in more ways than one.

Can’t worry about that right now.

Kerboros doesn’t respond to her. Instead, he draws his sword with a metallic shing while Zeph summons twin glowing spheres, white as moonlight, but they look searing hot, like the white that burns beyond the blue in the fiercest of fires. I gesture at Tara to get back, and Rosa needs no such warning. The pixie darts off, well above and out of reach.

Tara mutters, “Oh, suddenly you’re a sword fighter, are you? With a fancy light sword and everything. Don’t think we won’t talk about what happened in the market.”

Despite the situation, I almost smile. Trust Tara not to let me off the hook even for an instant. I know she’s upset, but with this beastie whipping its legs around wildly, I can’t pause for a chat. I dive and roll again, hacking the limb that nearly flattened me.

“Get to higher ground,” Zeph shouts.

I don’t ask; I leap.

As soon as I light upon a small outcropping, Zeph launches the spheres, not at the creature but into the marsh. The energy dissipates, making the water roil and boil around the beast. That maw opens to emit the most horrifying sound—too shrill, too loud, too much agony entirely—and it goes wild, slashing in all directions.

“You’re cooking it?” Rosa asks.

Zeph shakes their head, working up more energy for a second try. “Not fast enough.”

“Don’t expect me to eat it,” the pixie says.

I’m a bit trapped, but I should be able to edge around the perimeter and reach the back appendages, reducing its mobility. Kerboros whispers a word that I don’t catch and glides across the surface of the water, barely touching it. His magic is so damn impressive; this is why there’s a prevailing theory that a particular religious icon was a wandering fae.

I’d have to focus on my spellbook to attempt the same feat, and even then my chance of success is relatively low. Da tried so hard to teach me—to enable me to use fairy magic like I belong here, but it’s not my forte even at the best of times.

The humongous monster charges at me, flailing against its own death. I dodge the slash of a limb and roll forward into disgustingly warm water. I fend off the limbs with an expertise granted from my father’s magic, but that boost is waning. I can’t hold out much longer. Even as I frame the weary thought, Kerboros spins into motion, his sword a silver blur. He is blindingly fast, killing the smaller creatures so quickly that I can barely follow the movements.

But the final kill? Doesn’t go as I would’ve expected. My light sword shimmers once and fades, so instead of blocking the attack, the tentacle knocks me arse over teakettle. I bounce hard and land at Tara’s feet. Rosa flutters overhead, a tiny bow in her hands, and she fires rapidly into the creature’s yawning maw.