Page 40 of Rewitched

“A boy that young, murder their sibling? It makes no sense.”

Bronwyn sniffed, stirred what remained of her tea and clinked the silver spoon against the saucer in deep thought. “For revenge? For jealousy? For power?” she said. “Perhaps it was the only way he’d ever feel powerful, taking something for himself.”

“Surely not. For coven rule?”

“Coven rule is a funny thing, Belle. It may seem as though it’s neither here nor there as to who takes the sage role. But coven rule in the wrong hands could mean disaster for us, for wicche and non-wicche folk alike. Access to the grimoire, for one. It’s powerful stuff.”

Belle was silent, her lips a thin line.

“Maybe it was merely to prove something, to others or to himself,” Bronwyn continued. “Maybe even for no reason at all, but simply a want to hurt. To be noticed, to be heard.”

Belle and Bronwyn locked eyes, the atmosphere tense and thick.

The tiny brown mouse emerged for a moment, eyed up its surroundings and then promptly scurried again into the mass of hair underneath Bronwyn’s hat. She stroked its bottom absent-mindedly. “You and I could never understand a mind like that, Belle.”

Belle slumped backwards against the swell of the armchair and allowed her shoulders, which had been so tense against her ears throughout the story, to fall with heavy relief.

“I’m sorry to have to share such a story,” Bronwyn tutted. “Not in my character, stuff like that. If it were up to me, I’d have lent you the romance that Sybil’s got saved for me downstairs.” She chuckled and reached out to pat Belle on the knee. “But now you know the truth. And I’m confident that you can make the informed decision that’s best for you and you alone. I don’t wish to influence you. I understand that you’re between a rock and a hard place.”

Belle gave her a weak smile in return, remembering only then that Artorius Day was a decision that she had to make and not just a story. She tried to pluck one of the hundreds of questions that were flapping through the front of her mind like birds.

“Where is he now, then? Artorius, I mean. What did the coven do with him when he was found?”

“Non-wicche police couldn’t prove a thing, but his confession to the coven was enough. He was kept here at first, in the dungeons beneath Hecate House. Oh, they’re not around anymore, my love,” Bronwyn added hurriedly, seeing the horror on Belle’s face. “Out of action these days, health and safety. We use them to store the hoover and the toilet paper.”

She cleared her throat and continued. “After the loss of Savaric, Selcouth was left largely unprotected for a handful of years, and chaos reigned. Various attempts to seize it, stolen magic, coups and breakaway covens. That’s when Morena and I stepped in to take the reins as shared sage. It seemed the fairest option, to start all over again. The vote was unanimous. And our decision for Artorius, right or wrong, was that he should be kept close, at least for a time.”

She handed Belle the second scrap of paper she’d slipped from between the pages of the grimoire. This one was a photograph. “Taken on the day of his expellation, for coven records.”

Belle could barely believe it. Whether it was the act of killing or his time spent in the dungeons, the years since the first photo of Artorius had deeply altered him. Deep shadows pocketed a pale face underneath angled cheekbones, skin stretched taught. A beard clung to his jaw, which had changed shape from boy to broken man. He looked out at Belle through the paper with sunken eyes, lifeless and hopeless, and dark like the bottom of a well.

“Oh…”

“A long stint in Hecate dungeons probably doesn’t help matters, but what were we to do? Nothing like this had ever been put upon the coven before. We had to be sure that he wouldn’t act again.”

As though she couldn’t bear to look at it anymore, Bronwyn snatched the photo quickly from Belle’s hand and tottered back to the grimoire to put it back within the binding.

“We settled on expellation. Previously unheard of without an EquiWitch trial, but he hadn’t yet reached thirty.”

Belle’s gaze shot up. An unwelcome puzzle piece slotted into place. “Artorius Day was the last to fail his endarkenment before me.”

“Yes and no. Technically, he was stripped of his powers before his endarkenment could even arrive.”

Belle’s brows knitted together. “Would it even be safe for me to work with him?”

“The coven has kept a close eye on him since banishment,” Bronwyn explained. “He’s in the very same house that he was sent to when his expellation was decided. And, in the man’s rather limited defence, he has shown no sign of danger since his confession. We would reinstate him with only the basics to ensure he can provide mentoring to your magic, allow him to knit simple spellwork together without reaching significant heights.”

Belle groaned. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You won’t accept the mentorship?” Bronwyn asked with raised eyebrows.

“Well, surely I can’t? Not after everything you’ve told me. I can’t expect this guy to help me in good faith with anything, let alone provide lessons in magic. All he notably used his powers for before they were expelled completely was murdering the good guy who everyone loved.”

Bronwyn nodded. “I must say, I’m somewhat relieved. But…that’s not the decision I was expecting from you, Belle, to be frank.”

Belle felt defensive. “Can you blame me? I thought Artorius was going to be a bit of an eccentric. A few too many whiskies with breakfast in his old age or something. I wasn’t expecting you to say he was a brother-killing murderer. Plus, my mum will kill me even if he doesn’t.”

“I must in good faith remind you to consider again what you’re giving up. What you’re letting go of, Belle. On reflection last night while pondering the grimoire, I noted that almost all of your manifests slipped up thanks to a lack of faith, a lack of self-belief, a worry of what others would think. You’ve turned down chances, allowed yourself to remain unhappy, simply because you were afraid of the changes and even the successes they might bring.”