Page 104 of Rewitched

“He did. And it was still there, the loophole. We expected that it would have vanished, some kind of complex glamour that she’d created to fool you. But no, it was still written there, raven ink and all. How did Bronwyn manage to make an addition to the book if it was for her own gain, rather than for the good of the coven?”

Belle shrugged. “I can’t tell if you’re asking me for a genuine answer or if you’re doing the usual dramatic, mysterious build-up to make me swoon somehow.”

He laughed. “It’s the latter. How am I doing?”

“Not too shabby.”

Rune stopped and turned to her, their shadows melting together at their feet. “Bronwyn might have intended for the loophole to lead to your downfall, but the grimoire accepted it as lore because fate knew that it would result in you staying with Selcouth. Everything that happened was for the good of the coven. You were for the good of the coven.” He lifted her chin to meet his gaze again. “But mainly for me.”

Belle arrived at Lunar to the familiar welcoming jangle of the bell hanging above the door and breathed in the inviting scent of the fresh pastries that mingled with the new-book smell and plumed once again through the whole shop. Her shop. Danishes, croissants, savoury twists and apple cider donuts were ready and waiting in rows of golden glaze on the bakery cart next to the shiny new coffee machine. One of her first decisions for Lunar had been to bring back the steady supply of cinnamon buns and cappuccinos, and Mr. Ricci had been all too happy to team up on the idea, delivering everything early each day and already bringing a host of new commuting customers each morning as a result.

“Those are not for you.” Belle rolled her eyes when she found Ariadne ripping apart the flaky sweetness of a bun for breakfast while she chatted to Artorius, the pair of them perched on alternate arms of an armchair.

Bonnie was moving from one end of the shop to the other, switching on the dotted table lamps with a train of tiny sparks as she went, with Wolfie contentedly snoozing on the rug in front of the till. Jinx had also been brought along for the occasion this time and was doing her level best to battle the end of a string of fairy lights hanging from a book trolley.

“There have got to be some benefits to being friends with the boss.” Ariadne shrugged, dusting grains of sugar from her fingers. Belle’s mother and her best friend had been taking it in turns to arrive at Lunar bright and early every morning while Belle rested and recovered, accepting the baked goods deliveries and passing on her slightly delirious, half-asleep instructions to Monica and Jim.

“So, really, if you think about it”—Artorius reclaimed Ari’s attention—“a non-wicche branch of the coven could indeed prove rather useful, if you’d be interested in such an endeavour.”

Ariadne looked mostly perplexed but was taking it in her stride. Bonnie and Belle had attempted to explain as best they could over the handful of days since the showdown, but it was more of a pencil sketch than a fully fledged masterpiece thus far. To her credit, Ari had been surprisingly quick to accept the existence of magic itself. The fact that Belle had not conjured a perfect life of riches and fame for them both was her biggest sticking point so far.

“Thanks for the offer, Mr. Day. I’ll have a think…”

“Hi, Arty,” Belle said, shuffling towards them at a speed that even he would have beaten. She dumped her bag on the desk next to the till and leaned against the oak for extra support.

The old man had escaped Hecate House relatively scot-free after being flung across the courtroom, just some bruises along with a fractured wrist, which he now wore in a pink sling to perfectly match his hat. Belle had marvelled at the miracle of his survival when she came to, sure as soon as she woke that she’d lost him. But things made a little more sense when Rune reported finding her sooth stone still attached to Morena’s necklace, strewn just across the floor from his collapsed body. Alvina’s Praesentia Pretego had flourished for her younger brother, too—a Day sibling bond built back together—although how it had got there remained an interesting question.

“Belle, it’s wonderful to see you on your feet, my dear!” Artorius exclaimed, trying his best to rise to meet her.

“Don’t get up. I hear you have a surprise for me,” she said, fully expecting to spot the photo album in his bag. Instead, her stomach sank as she spotted the unmistakable corner of her grimoire poking out. “I’m not sure I’m ready to see that.”

Despite everything that had happened, despite the wonder of the elemental magic that she had managed to perform in the moment, Belle still couldn’t help but feel as though she’d failed herself. She knew it was stupid to care about redundant challenges after everything she’d achieved instead, but it was impossible to ignore. Naturally, she couldn’t help but pay attention to the tiny negatives amongst the enormous joys. It was the last dream that she would ever allow to slip away from her.

The elemental magic would have certainly been enough to appease the Earth Sorcery allegory. That meant there had only been one allegory left unlit when Halloween met midnight and November arrived. She had failed her chance at endarkenment by one measly Incantation challenge.

Not that the coven were planning to adhere to the rules that the Gowdens had instated for her endarkenment, anyway. The whole process was to be updated, but still. It almost felt as though she’d disappointed the grimoire, which she’d been told time and time again was the truest source of a witch’s worthiness.

Artorius gave her a smile. “I must insist that I return it to you. For safekeeping. You know as well as I do that nothing in that attic of mine is ever very easy to find again once you put it down. Has a mind of its own, that place. Have a look.”

He handed her the great leather-bound book, the weight of it a struggle in her weak, bandage-covered arms but a strange comfort to have back in her possession. It fell open on that first page of pencil lettering that she’d scribbled as a brand-new witch.

What do you hope this new blessing of magic means for you, witch?

To be special. To like myself and be confident. To be happy.

She smiled to herself. “What am I looking for, exactly?”

Artorius beamed and, with a small gesture of his hand, guided the pages along until they found whatever it was that he was evidently so interested in. The Incantation allegory.

As it fell open, Belle gasped, almost dropping it. The looped calligraphy letters turned from raven black ink to glowing warm amber. The page was lit from within, a tiny fire behind every word. “I don’t understand,” she stuttered, hardly daring to believe it for herself.

Bonnie laughed. “Ariadne. You summoned her.”

Belle was baffled. It must be an admin error. Did grimoires suffer admin errors? “What? When?”

“After Bronwyn, that gorgon, brought her into Hecate House for no reason other than revelling in your misery,” Bonnie said bitterly.

“Just before she fell to the ground, you summoned her to you. You cushioned her fall and took most of the blow as you both went down together,” Rune said proudly.