Page 82 of Rewitched

Of course, she’d learned a lot more magical theory since then, and this brewing had been under Artorius’s expert guidance. But she supposed potions couldn’t work to change a person fundamentally. Magic couldn’t manipulate a person’s make-up or change who somebody really was. That was impossible.

The difference was that this time, she was ready. She was ready to receive it, to be bold and brave, and to flourish by herself. In fact, she already was. She just had to keep going, full speed and pedal to the metal, and in four moons, she’d have her decision from Selcouth.

Whichever way it swung.

27

Solanaceae

SOMEWHERE IN THE timeline of the night, when the sky was at its richest shade of inky black, Jinx leapt from Belle’s chest with such a start that it broke her deep sleep. Belle slid her bedcovers back up to her nose. Her heavy lids shuttered closed, but she was woken again when the cat let out a low, yowling growl of unease. Belle growled similarly in annoyance, leaning up onto her elbows to see what all the fuss was about. Zoomies, probably. It was so pitch-black outside, a thick blanket of night laid down across London, that she had to squint to even make out Jinx’s fur in the darkness. Her annoyance became dismay when she saw the cat’s drastically arched back, the fully fluffed tail that showed high alert.

“Jinx? What have you got there?” Belle asked in a voice thick with sleep. “Please, not another mouse. I can’t do that again.” She’d given up on trying to catch the last one somewhere behind the dishwasher and the washing machine.

She clicked on the bedside lamp and jumped as the light threw a jagged shadow against the wall. Just a trick of the light. Nothing was there, but Jinx remained in a fearful, sharp arch. Belle rubbed at her eyes.

“Jinxy?” she beckoned.

The cat continued letting out a low hiss, her stare transfixed on nothing at all, staring at the wall. Sometimes it felt as though she could feel things that Belle couldn’t, and it always gave her the creeps. Belle rolled her eyes in drowsy discontent, flicked the light back off and yanked the covers with her as she turned away. But seconds later, Jinx was growling again, her tiny voice more and more high-pitched, sounding strained and defensive against the silence. Belle let out an exasperated sound, on the edge of irreparably waking when what she needed most was a good night’s sleep.

“Jinx. Shut. Up.” She yanked the light back on again.

A sparking of pinpricks slithered up the back of her neck. She threw a hand towards it to scratch, but the sensation spread like wintry running water across the wings of her back. The feeling travelled down her arms and her chest, icy cold and burning at once. She kicked at the suddenly unbearable covers and reached across the bed to turn the light on but realised she’d only just done that very same thing. The power had cut out. She heard Jinx’s claws skitter on the floor as she bolted from the bedroom.

Belle’s stomach gurgled angrily, a flash of knotted pain. Hot prickles covered her entire body, her breath quickening as she touched the back of her hand to her forehead, to find beaded sweat beginning to trickle at her temples. She tried to bring herself out of the lull, to drag herself to the bathroom to splash her face, but a deadening pull towards sleep wrapped a tight fist around her.

She eased herself back down against the pillows, trying not to panic as her breathing became more and more shallow. And then a sudden pressure. Against her sternum and her collarbones. She willed her legs to kick, her arms to push, but she couldn’t make her body obey her thoughts. Something pushed down firmly on her chest, feeling so heavy that she thought her ribs would crack.

A figure, somehow darker than the darkness. A faceless, shapeless figure, who was at one with the shadows themselves, outlined only in the faintest touch of moonlight, watching from the foot of the bed. The blur of shadows pinned Belle down into the mattress, crushing her, enforced control on every part of her body other than her mind. Her mouth filled up, tasting of darkness and dirt and clogging earth, choking as she chewed on shadows. She felt it make a nest in her ribcage, settle itself as though it would never leave, and she heaved a final, fighting breath to surrender to it.

A burst of sparks so blinding that Belle felt as though it scarred her eyes.

The pressure relinquished. It flowed away, slow, controlled, the darkness pooling down her body and slinking away from her. The light beside her snapped back on as the power returned.

She gasped for air, convulsing upwards in a jolt. Her eyes were watering, tears carving their way down her face.

She began to focus and readjust, to register reality again.

Rune was there. He stood over her, chest heaving, one fist clenched tightly around a mason jar. Inside it, the lid firmly bolted shut, a pitch-black substance churned and roiled like a storm cloud and molasses, which seemed to be fighting against the glass to break out.

After a moment, allowing her to find control of herself again, wipe her face on the duvet, swing her legs over the side of the bed to bring herself upright, he spoke calmly.

“You’re okay. Easy, don’t get up.”

“What was that?” she spluttered, her voice full of fear.

“Night terror,” he replied softly but matter-of-factly, only seating himself in the armchair just across from her bed when she seemed to steady a little.

“No. No, that wasn’t just a nightmare,” she said. “That was real.”

“I never said it wasn’t real.” Rune had just about caught his breath back, slumping against the chair himself. He seemed shaken. “I came as soon as I sensed it. I thought I wasn’t fast enough. I saw this vision hanging over you, a black cloud, an ink stain, a…I thought for a moment I hadn’t been quick enough.” He exhaled to steady the slightly frantic panic in his voice. He frowned as he glanced inside the dream behind the glass, evidently disappointed in himself that he hadn’t unravelled the strange spell sooner. He stowed the dark jar away in the inner pocket of his coat. It vanished swiftly.

“I could feel it, I could feel them, sitting on my chest. Jinx knew, she—”

“I know, I know. I was here the moment I sensed it, I promise. It was so difficult to unravel…Taking dreams away should be child’s play. Hey, calm down, all right? Take a moment.”

Belle steadied herself, reaching for the glass of water that Rune conjured for her. She took a long, deep drink, feeling it soothe her rasping voice. As she placed it down on her bedside table, it clinked against an empty mug.

“Your coffee consumption is concerning,” Rune said with a half-smile, nodding at the cup.