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That evening, I leave court without speaking to any of the family—or heaven forbid, Gabriel—and head to The Windmill.
As soon as I get into my room, I whip out my scrying bowl. With no mineral water to hand, I have to resort to filling it from the tap, but the water here is very pure.
Back in London, scrying was the one bit of magic I allowed myself to do on a semi-regular basis, but up here, with more visceral powers at my disposal, I haven’t really bothered with it. Today, though, it’s exactly what’s needed.
I start to breathe deeply and wave my hands, but with all the power in the air, it’s barely necessary. The vision I’m seeking appears in seconds. I mentally zoom out to get an outdoor image, cross-reference it with a map on my phone, then jump in the car and head out of town.
There’s the familiar sense of pressure as I exit the Dome, the familiar chill on the other side, and the inevitable sense of everything being that little bit more dirty and rundown.
I try to focus as I drive through, try to really think about whether the boundary has moved, but I’ve been through so many times in the last few weeks that I’ve lost any certainty about where it was back when I was a teenager.
I drive like a homing pigeon in the direction of the place I’d seen in the water. It has to be the closest pub to Mannith on this side of the Dome. It’s quiet, compared to The Windmill, with a slightly stale smell in the air and paintwork that could do with being touched up.
There are two barmaids on shift. One’s unknown to me and gives a welcoming smile. The other is Leah. On seeing me, she throws up a weak shield and bursts into tears all at once.
I walk towards the bar, trying to look as smiley and unthreatening as possible, even though we both know I could tear her in two with a wave of my hand.
“It’s time for Leah’s break,” I tell the other woman, imbuing my voice with power.
She nods in confusion.
I step behind the bar, loop my arm through Leah’s, and lead us to a free table, covered in empty glasses. She makes no move to resist. She’s passive. A rabbit in headlights. I throw up a bubble so we can speak in private.
“How’s life in exile working out for you?”
She looks a little faded. Still pretty, still perfectly made up. Just not shining so brightly.
“What do you want?”
“You got Bren out of the way that night on purpose. Took him somewhere where his alibi was entirely reliant on you. And spent the evening doing something that would be impossible to explain properly in court and that would leave him weakened enough that the police and a few half-hearted practitioners could arrest him and block his magic. And you did something with the old revolver, too. Made sure his fingerprints were all over it, then smuggled it to Gabriel.
“And as your next trick, you were going to sabotage your testimony, weren’t you? Destroy that all-important alibi. Subtly stumble. Add in some little inconsistencies relative to Bren’s account, just like you were ordered to. A witness for the prosecution, disguised as one for the defence.”
I can’t keep the fury out of my voice. She’s just a pawn, really, manipulated by Gabriel. But my brother had loved her, and while I can forgive his enemy most things, I can’t forgive his fiancée for her betrayal.
Her silence and sobs are all the confession I need.
“I want you to testify after all. But now, you’re going to tell the truth. Or most of the truth, anyway. Nothing about Gabriel’s body switching. Nothing about Bren trying to impregnate you with a demon baby. Just the fact that Gabriel was setting my brother up for a fall and you were a willing accomplice.”
She collapses back on the sofa, stretched out full length. “I can’t. Gabriel will kill me.”
I shrug. “Possibly. But the mistake everyone makes is to underestimate me. You know he’s powerful and ruthless. I promise you I can match him on both scores.”
I lift my hand and drag it lazily through the air. Every glass and bottle in the place shatters. Then I slam my hand down and, across the room, the bar cleaves in two. Leah jumps back.
I made my parents promise they wouldn’t try to use intimidation to win the case. But I made no such vow myself.
“We never really got to know each other, did we? You never had a chance to tell me about your family. But I can see a lot in my scrying bowl. You’ve got a sister, haven’t you? She means the world to you.”
She sinks down on the floor, heedless of all the broken glass.
“If you don’t testify, I will go to 33 Lansbury Street, and I will use my powers to stop your beloved Lola’s heart.”
There is absolutely no way in hell I would ever dream of doing anything of the sort. Just saying the awful words out loud makes me feel physically sick, but with fire in my hands and my eyes, I sound pretty convincing.
* * *
To my intense relief, Leah shows up in court the next morning. She’s wearing a smart black dress and jacket, her hair in a neat ponytail instead of the usual wild up-do.
