Page 56 of Disenchanted

There was a rap on the bedroom door.

“Sage, your gentleman friend is waiting downstairs.”

But Sage couldn’t bring herself to see him. Her friend, so gallingly in tune with her moods, would know immediately that something had changed. In the days that had passed since the burning, she had strongly decided that he had no business being a part of this mess anymore.

“I’m not coming. Tell him to go,” she replied to the door.

There was a pause.

“Are you sure all is well in there, madam?”

“Fine.”

Another pause.

“Very well. I shall tell Mr. Everald again that you’re still feeling under the weather. I am sure he’ll understand.” Sage’s heart gave a whimper at the hurt in Maggie’s voice as she chose to shut her out again. She had been cold to her housekeeper since returning home after the fire on Friday morning. Maggie had tried several times to come into her room to check on her, but Sage had shouted. Really shouted.

Finally, she had achieved her goal. She had banished her no-good magic. It was a great achievement, the one dream that she had followed like a North Star whenever she felt herself floundering. She had done it; she was no longer a witch.

So why, in all hellfire, did she feel so utterly bereft?

The spell had not been entirely successful. The memory-wiping effect of Tenebrae Obscurum that her research around the dark spell had always promised had yet to take hold. Sage remained all too aware of the witchcraft that she had stripped herself of, and the knowledge of all that she had lost only served to make the haunting, ripped feeling of grief even worse. She supposed it was a well-deserved punishment, the bitter cherry on top of the cauldron that the kinder side of the spell had failed.

In some ways, it was fortunate that she still had some recollection of her magic. It meant that she could clean up the residual mess more effectively. Today, she must begin the repairs that were required of her. On her return from the bonfire, she had barely been in control of her own limbs or her own mind. She could not remember getting home. It felt like a blurry blackout, a supernatural amnesia, and she had not left her bed in two days thanks to feeling more unwell than she could ever recall.

As it had transpired, magical banishment was incredibly unpleasant, and frankly, she had not had it in her to care about answers until now. Would the spell have ended entirely, or would there be trace amounts still lingering across the town?

Once Casimir had left, probably in a strop, which she’d no doubt have to bribe him out of at some point, Sage would go and examine the front of the house for damage caused by the gingerbread. She was annoyed with herself for leaving the silly facade on display for so long; no doubt her home insurance would have shot through the roof. The beanstalk was surely eviscerated; her knowledge of Earth Sorcery made her fairly certain that such vegetation would not survive without a source of potent magic nearby.

Then she would see about contacting the school that had visited the museum last week and ensure that the children who experienced the unfortunate side effects of their visit were back to normal. With any luck, their wings would already have vanished or at least begun to fade, now that the spell was over, as would the other tropes and characteristics given to the locals. She would make sure that Laurel’s bruises had faded, Robin’s hand had healed and Casimir’s injuries had eased. With any luck, they would be left with no memory whatsoever of the whole charade.

It all seemed a rewardingly neat conclusion, which at least satisfied an itch in Sage’s meticulous nature. Although the one factor she couldn’t bring herself to contemplate was Mal’s articulate ways. She had grown rather fond of the cat keeping her company, offering smart words of sarcasm, and despite her best efforts, she failed to find any argument as to why her smallest, most trusted friend was better off without a voice.

But who was she to believe that she was deserving of such a special thing?

While the curse had been broken, one troubling possibility lingered over her like a dark cloud: By ridding herself of her powers, creating a wildly swinging imbalance of magic—Lilara’s running wild and then both magics suddenly banished, along with her concealment spell—she would inevitably have alerted the coven. She had almost forgotten about their threat entirely amid all of the distraction. They were bound to appear soon, in one form or another. Surely they did not leave unclaimed magic lying around, like a Lost and Found Department. Not that it really mattered anymore. Now that she was non-wicche, she supposed she could just tell them to piss off and leave her be. It was simply a habit to fear them.

Murmurings buzzed downstairs between Casimir and Maggie, as they had done on and off since Friday, but eventually Sage heard the front door close, signalling the former’s exit. The clattering of pots and pans from the kitchen followed as Maggie turned to the day’s errands. Under the thick covers, Sage breathed a sigh of relief. She had been in bed for days and might just stay for another. She couldn’t bring herself to do anything other than sleep.

Just then, something small and sharp pelted her bedroom window.

Sage growled. He really was the most presumptuous person she’d ever known.

Reluctantly, she dragged herself out of bed, throwing the covers aside with a scowl. She went to the window and lifted the sash to call down to him. “What, Casimir?” she barked.

“Crikey, if Juliet had been this unpleasant, I think poor Romeo would have told her to sod off, and he would have lived a long and fruitful life.”

Casimir stood in the front garden and threw another stone up towards her at the glass. It landed on the windowsill inside. It wasn’t a rock at all, but a hard chocolate button from the transformed shale in her front garden. There were still remnants of her edible house, then. She promptly threw it back down at him.

“Ow!” he called up. “What’s wrong with you? Are you all right? I’ve been worried. There were a fair few morning tickets sold for the exhibition today, remember. And why have you locked me out of the archive?”

Sage crossed her arms tightly around herself. “I’ll be there later. Maybe. I have…errands to run.”

Casimir’s brows shot up. “Errands, indeed. Would any of said errands happen to involve an enchanted forest?”

“A what?” she replied crossly. She didn’t have an ounce of patience left for him to be talking in his infuriating riddles.

“The signposts. The third one’s changed, so grab those maps of yours. We’ve got town charting to update. One enchanted forest coming right up, followed by a troll bridge towards the dell. That one we’re already familiar with, at least. And the woodsman’s house in the direction of Robin’s place, by the looks of it.”