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An ear-splitting groan ripped the silence and Joy flinched into the nearest wall. Her heart threw itself against her rib cage. She locked eyes with Gus, Maisie, and Eilidh, dread pooling between all four of them, but the sound was coming from inside the records room.
Joy clenched her right hand around her wand, slipping her left into her pocket to touch a kambaba jasper for reassurance and calm. But she was so scared, the stone didn’t even touch her dread.
“That sounds like the elves again,” Eilidh murmured, her eyes on the open records room door as she edged closer to Joy and Victoriya, the latter splayed on the floor, showing no sign of consciousness.
Joy held her wand in front of her, readying herself to grab a potion, but the corridor remained empty of everyone but them. And Eilidh was right; it sounded similar to what Peregrine had done before.
“Shit,” Gus said in a tight voice. “Look at Mais.”
Joy swallowed, wishing it was as easy to swallow her fear as it was to push down the acid in her throat. Bracing herself, she turned in Gus’s direction.
Maisie was single-mindedly scratching at a white door down the hallway.
Joy shared a look with her friends, and without a word spoken they lifted Victoriya off the floor, refusing to leave her behind as they followed Maisie’s obvious hint.
Unlike the exit, this door opened easily when Gus leaned on the handle with his elbow, swearing at Victoriya’s unconscious, heavy body. Joy wished Victoriya’s eyes would fly open, wished they would bicker for some sense of normality. But Victoriya’s eyes remained bruised and shut, her body remained limp.
Shuffling inside, Joy kicked the door behind them, shutting it all but a crack for them to watch the corridor. Joy released Victoriya to point her wand in a defensive position, surveying the empty office. Three desks were each pushed against a wall, with desk lamps, piles of paperwork, and glossy Macs organised on their surfaces. The contents had a rich, expensive feel. One desk even held a plum Givenchy bag left carelessly behind, with a folder and a hat sticking out of it.
Wait, that hat … Joy’s stomach flipped. The narrow brim was embroidered with silver whorls and slashes—the rank of a head witch.
“That’s Paulina’s,” she breathed.
As if her words triggered it, a muffled groan rose from the back of the room, coming from behind one of the heavy wooden desks.
A little numb with shock, Joy took a step towards the muffled voice, her stomach one big, sick knot and her breathing so shallow her chest barely moved.
“Wait.” Gus caught her arm, abandoning all Victoriya’s weight on Eilidh, who tumbled into the nearest desk with a string of filthy words. “Are you crazy? That could be Perchta.”
Joy shook her head, glancing from his pale, freckled face to the elaborate desk. Gabi used to talk about gut feelings religiously, like they were a djinn’s wishes, something to be coveted andneverignored or misused. Joy hadn’t understood then, but she was having one now: a gut feeling told her the office on the ground floor was Paulina’s public office, butthisroom was where she got her work done in private.
Joy shouldn’t have cared, not after everything the witch had done to her, but … if she pretended not to hear, if she left the head witch behind, that would make her as bad as Paulina.
And she wouldn’t give the vile woman that kind of satisfaction.
She shook off Gus’s bone white grip, and rounded the desk with sure, certain steps.
Folded up on the floor, hands and ankles bound, was the head witch of Agedale. Her frazzled orange hair looked extra bright against the bleached white of her face, and fear widened her eyes, whether she’d admit it or not. Her cloak was ripped right over the embroidery on the hem, some of it missing, as if she’d discovered Perchta and put up a good fight.
Butfuck, the head witch, the most powerful witch for miles, had fought Perchtaand lost.Joy was gripped by a sudden pressing need to go back into the records room, find Gabi, and drag her to safety.
Instead, she pulled the embroidered gag from Paulina’s mouth and asked, “Are you alright? What happened?”
“What thehellare you doing here, Mackenzie?”
Well.
Joy sat back on her heels, anger bubbling in her chest. She hadn’t expected kindness and gratitude, but cordiality wouldn’t have gone amiss.
“Your assistantkidnappedVictoriya. My witch sister. We came to get her back.”
Paulina’s bushy eyebrows rose. “You came to stop a murderer?” Wry amusement curled her thin mouth as she looked past Joy to Eilidh and Gus. “And failed, I presume?”
“No,” Joy snapped, anger as hot as coals in her chest.
Not yet.She shook her head, remembering the faith and belief in Gabi’s voice just before she vanished.
Not ever, Joy snarled at herself.
