Spellweaver (16 page)

“Thank God you’re
here,” he said when he saw them. “He’s been like this for an hour.
Won’t let me anywhere near him. He’s gone insane!”

“It must be from being
locked up for all this time,” Hollie called out above the din.
“What do they call it - cabin fever. I told you this was a bad
idea!”

“Yeah, thanks for
that, Hollie. Really helpful!”

“What’s he saying?”
Felicity asked.

“Nothing, really. He’s
just shouting.” Jamie shook his head. He looked defeated. “If the
neighbours hear him they’ll call the police. We have to do
something!”

“I’ll go down and see
him,” Hollie said decisively, and began to walk towards the cellar
steps when she was blocked by her brother.

“I’m not letting you
go down there by yourself.”

“I’ll be fine. Get out
of the way!”

“No!” Jamie looked
from Hollie to Felicity. His expression was severe. “We all
contributed to this mess, so we all have to try and clean it up.”
He paused. “We’ll all go down there. Together.”

Felicity and Hollie
exchanged glances. It was odd for Hollie, seeing her brother take
charge like that, but then he had been doing so more and more often
these days. In a strange way, she thought, it suited
him.

She nodded, giving her
consent to the plan. Felicity was not overly keen on returning to
the cellar, but she had been outvoted before polling even began.
Slowly and reluctantly, she followed the twins down the
steps.

The shouting ceased as
soon as the three of them entered Oliver’s view. He looked awful.
His dark hair was in disarray, there were red circles beneath his
eyes, some tears had appeared in his clothing; he looked as though
he had just been attacked. The chair upon which he had been forced
to sit for the last few days had toppled over and was lying nearby.
A few other items that had been within his reach, such as a bucket,
mop and the old bench, had also become innocent victims of his
apparent insanity.

He stared at the three
of them with crazed eyes. He couldn’t have had much sleep. His skin
looked deathly pale, though it had not been particularly tanned to
begin with. He stood with his shoulders hunched and his head bowed
so that he had to look upwards slightly to see them, a challenging
stance that almost dared the three of them to come closer. Jamie,
concerned for his friend and sister, stopped before he reached the
bottom of the steps.

Oliver raised his hand
and pointed towards them. “I will only talk to you,” he said
between breaths, and his voice was deep and quiet.

It was obvious to whom
he was referring, although all three of them were standing in the
direction Oliver had just pointed.

But Jamie was still
feeling protective. “No,” he said, sounding braver than he actually
was.

Oliver’s response was
to swiftly deliver a kick to the nearby chair, which clattered
noisily across the cement floor.

“Stop it!” Hollie
cried.

Jamie turned to
Felicity. “Fliss,” he said. “I normally wouldn’t ask, but... if he
carries on, we’re going to be in a lot more trouble than we already
are. If the police come and they untie him -”

“I know,” Felicity
interrupted him. “It’s fine. I’ll talk to him.”

Jamie smiled
gratefully. “We’ll just be upstairs,” he told her, and then the
twins left her alone in the cellar. Alone, of course, save for
Oliver.

She knew to expect the
uncomfortable stare before he had the chance to send it her way,
but it had become so familiar a sight that it didn’t unnerve her as
much as it had yesterday. but knowing that he wanted to speak to
her gave her a sense of power that she hadn’t felt when in his
presence. As she walked into the cellar, her confidence gave her
strength.

“What’s going on?” she
asked.

“I needed to see
you.”

Felicity placed her
hands on her hips defiantly. “Then you should’ve politely asked
Jamie if you could use a phone, not had a hissy fit like a three
year old.”

Oliver’s eyes gave
away his anger. “Look at you. You think you’ve got all the power,
just because I’m the one tied up and you can leave this place any
time you choose. But you have no idea what’s coming. If you did,
you wouldn’t still be here. You’re a fool!”

He spat the words so
menacingly that a part of Felicity’s confidence wavered, though not
enough to show. “Are you done?” she asked patronisingly, as if
speaking to a child who had just had a tantrum.

Oliver didn’t take
that well. He stared at Felicity as if trying to knock her down
with a simple glance and looked as though he were about to explode
again. But looks were apparently not as powerful as magical words
and their accompanying gestures, so Oliver was powerless to do
anything at all. He seemed to realise this, and as she watched, the
malice, anger and hatred faded from his face. His expression
softened, and Felicity was shocked at what she saw hidden beneath
his bravado.

It was fear. He
dropped his eyes to the floor as soon as it emerged, but not before
she got a quick glance at it. It was as if he finally realised how
helpless he was and could no longer hide it from her. He looked
like a captured, wounded animal, and though it was never a word
that Felicity felt suited him, she thought he looked innocent.
Lost, innocent and afraid. Had Hollie been there, she would have
rushed to him, but Felicity was much more wary; not one part of her
was tempted to comfort this seemingly broken man, for he had lied
to and fooled her before.

And then he looked at
her, and she saw his despair as it stared right back at her, open
and vulnerable. “Felicity,” he said softly, his voice strangely
sombre. “We need to get out of here. They’re coming.”

She regarded him
curiously. She wanted to know more, but something was holding her
back. “I don’t know if I can trust anything you say,” she
said.

“Then trust your
mother,” he replied.

That struck a nerve.
“Don’t talk to me about my mother,” she said quietly. “Not after
the things you said yesterday.”

“They’re all true,”
Oliver insisted. “Every word I spoke was the truth. But you don’t
have to believe me - once the others get here, you’ll find out for
yourself.” He shook his head solemnly. “But by then... it will be
too late.”

Felicity frowned.
“What... what do you mean?” she asked. “Who are the
others?”

“The same people who
are after you are also after me,” he said. “They want to kill
us.”

“What?” Felicity
gasped. “How do you know that?”

This time, Oliver made
eye contact. “They got to your mother.”

Felicity took a step
away from him, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re insane.
You’re crazy!”

“They’re going to kill
us, to make examples of us just like they did your mother,” Oliver
persisted, his voice sounding desperate. “We have to get out of
here. Do you think your mother would want to see you get killed by
the same people who got to her? Listen to me, Felicity!”

Felicity, who had been
pacing frantically, stopped and turned to face Oliver at the
mention of her name. “How do I know that you’re not the one who
murdered my mother?” she demanded. “You tried to kill me - and
Hollie, too.”

“I wasn’t going to
hurt you,” Oliver said. “I needed to find you and get you away from
here. I thought that scaring you would be the best way - but I was
wrong.”

Felicity shook her
head. Why was she listening to this?

Oliver spoke calmly.
“If we leave now, we can get away. All you have to do is untie
me.”

In spite of everything
that she had just been told, Felicity couldn’t help but emit a
short, sudden laugh. “Do you think I’m stupid?” she said. “I’m not
going to untie you. If they’re after me, like you say, then fine -
I’ll leave. I’ll get away. But I’m not going anywhere with
you.”

“You don’t have any
choice!” Oliver cried, raising his voice. “They’ll come looking for
me, and they’ll destroy anyone who gets in their way. Do I really
have to remind you where we are? If they find me, they find your
friends - and they won’t show them any mercy. Hollie and Jamie will
die just because you wouldn’t trust me. Is that what you
want?”

Felicity stared,
speechless.

“If we go together, we
have a fighting chance,” Oliver continued. “I can read the spells
in your mother’s journal. There was a defensive one, do you
remember? I can use it to protect us if the others catch up. Then
no one has to die, Felicity. No one. You and I will be away from
here before anyone gets hurt.”

A fire burned behind
Felicity’s eyes as she thought of her two best friends coming to
harm. They had been so good to her, even when she hadn’t wanted
them to. They had accepted her, taken her in despite how awkward
she was in social situations. Hollie had made her part of the
school community. Jamie had helped her with her homework on
numerous occasions. Between the two of them, they had done more for
Felicity than anyone else she had ever met.

She couldn’t stand the
thought of them being hurt, or - she shuddered - killed, especially
because of her, but she didn’t trust Oliver, either. How did she
know these so-called ‘others’ were even coming? But could she take
the risk that they weren’t, that he was bluffing and none of them
were in any real danger at all?

It was all too much.
She had to get out of there.

Surrendering to her
fear and confusion, she turned away from Oliver and sped up the
cellar steps.

“Felicity! You can’t
leave. Come back, damn you! Come back!”

She ignored him, just
as she ignored Hollie’s concerned and surprised cries as she fled
the house and began to run as fast as she could.

The sky was lighter
now, and there were more people on the streets. A few of them
stared at her as she ran past, but she barely noticed them. She
didn’t take notice of anything but the fast, steady beating of her
heart and the deep breaths that left her chest heaving. It was only
as she arrived at the familiar block of flats that she realised
where she had ran to, and it was strange that her mind would have
directed her legs there; but when all was said and done, perhaps it
really was the place where she felt the safest.

By the time she had
ascended the stairs, her brisk walk had left her cheeks rosy and
her lungs in pain from the harsh iciness of the air. Her father was
standing with his head in the open fridge when she opened the door.
He looked up, and it was evident that he was surprised to see
her.

“Oh, uh,” he bumbled
awkwardly. “I saw your bed was empty. I didn’t think you’d be here
for breakfast.” He closed the fridge. “I was going to make myself
some cereal but, uh...” He looked around the kitchen. “Do you like
pancakes?”

Felicity stared at her
father, quite unsure of what to say or do, and then, with a sense
of relief that made her want to weep, she sighed. The normality of
the situation was so soothing that it almost allowed her to forget
the strange things that had happened and dare to believe that
everything was normal. She nodded at the suggestion of pancakes and
once the imperfect circles were made, her father dished them out
onto two small plates without so much as a playful toss. They sat
together in front of the television, absently and silently watching
the flickering images.

Felicity allowed
herself to forget Oliver in the few minutes it took her to eat the
undercooked and overly thick pancakes. Instead, she thought of her
mother. It was impossible not to, considering that she was one of
the reasons why Felicity had gone back to her father’s flat in such
a hurry. She couldn’t remember much about her early childhood, but
she knew it hadn’t consisted of frequent cuddles and affectionate
kisses. She could, however, recall how absent her mother had been
as Felicity had grown up. It wasn’t just boarding school that had
kept mother and daughter apart, for even in the holidays Felicity’s
mother had rarely been at home so they hadn’t talked much; Felicity
was hard-pressed to think of a meaningful, lengthy discussion
between the two of them.

She looked at her
father. Perhaps now was the time to start having meaningful,
lengthy discussions.

“How did you meet - my
mother?” she asked abruptly. She had wanted to say ‘mum’, but it
just didn’t seem like the right word.

The question caught
him by surprise; that much was obvious. He raised his eyebrows and
muttered some incoherent sounds before finally clearing his throat,
shuffling on the sofa and replying: “It was, uh, at a club in town.
Not there any more. Ikon.”

He didn’t look at her.
Both of them continued to stare at the television, though neither
of them had much interest in it.

After a long pause,
during which she had done much deliberation, she asked another
question. “Did you buy her a drink?”

Her father cleared his
throat again. “Yeah.”

“Did you
dance?”

“Yeah.”

This was clearly
awkward territory for him. He kept shuffling as if to make himself
more comfortable, and he wouldn’t look his daughter in the eye.
Felicity had learnt many things about her mother in the last day or
so, but those things were strange, foreign and unbelievable. What
she really desired was something real, positive and - above all -
normal. But her father was clearly frightened of the discussion; he
had probably been dreading it since the day she moved in, Felicity
thought, so she reluctantly and sadly gave in.