The Broken Spell (10 page)

10

THE HOUND

Grace sat cross-legged at the edge of the football pitch with the evening dew soaking into her school uniform. She didn’t sit apart from Jenny and the others, but was at an angle so she didn’t have to look any of them in the eye.

‘Witches,’ said Ms Gold, with her eyes closed, ‘are fond of familiars. They consist of two types: either animal
companions
that are smarter than the average dog or cat, or Metamorphs–’

‘People that have been turned into an animal form,’ said Grace.

Ms Gold opened her eyes for a moment.

‘Yes. Cursed humans. The smarter-than-average animal is bound to the witch by
devotion
. It protects her, warns her of danger, keeps her company and is very much like a pet. But
the Metamorph is bound to the witch by
magic
. She commands its obedience and it has to comply.’

‘For how long?’ asked Grace.

‘For as long as the witch lives,’ the teacher replied. ‘It is possible for a witch to release a metamorphic familiar from its curse before her death, but I’ve never heard of it done. When a witch curses a human being, it is generally for good reason.’

‘Do you have a familiar?’ said Jenny, glancing at Ms Gold before closing her eyes and lifting her chin to mirror the woman’s posture.

‘I do not,’ the teacher replied. ‘I have never favoured
familiars
. Animals require feeding, cleaning and don’t travel well.’

‘Plus I bet you’ve never cursed anyone to be your
Metamorph
slave,’ Una said with a giggle.

‘That too,’ said Ms Gold, smiling.

‘So you just never have an animal companion at all?’ asked Rachel.

‘I very often have an animal companion,’ said Ms Gold. ‘And that leads us to our next spell – Origination. When I feel like company, protection or just the desire to see
something
beautiful, I create a companion.’

‘Like the golden butterflies,’ said Una.

‘Correct. They fill the air with beauty as I perform such routine and menial tasks as collecting flora and fauna. They make the time pass so much more pleasantly.’

‘Can we create them first? Oh, please, please, please!’

Ms Gold smiled and swept a hand beneath her golden locks.

‘They are a little complicated,’ she said. ‘Each creature requires Origination. We start with one and go from there. As you improve, you will be able to create two at a time, three, then four. Origination of thousands requires
proficiency
that only comes from hundreds of hours of practice.’

Her hand glided over the grass by her knees, her fingers occasionally squeezing to pluck the tip off a single blade.

‘For Origination you need a life template – something that is, or was, living. The presence of wood or paper can be enough, but something that is still alive makes the job much easier. That’s why we’re sitting directly on the ground here, surrounded by plant and tiny animal life. You can’t possibly be without a life template here because life is all around you.’

She rested her palms on her knees and continued.

‘Your training up to this point has been about focussing your mind. Whether you know it or not, exercising your magical muscles has strengthened them and improved your concentration. Simple spells you once found difficult will become easier and easier as time goes on. This
enchantment
requires, above all, concentration. Choose one living thing, one blade of grass, one flower, one insect, whichever you prefer. But only one. This will be your life template. The benefit of your surroundings is that if your mind or eye
should slip even slightly, you may be able to grab the next template before the moment of Origination occurs.’

The girls gazed at their teacher, enraptured.

‘Now, relax and focus,’ she said. ‘Choose a template and direct all your attention to it, don’t drift. Stare at the object until everything around it blurs, and repeat after me,
Ex vita vetera, vita nova
.’

The girls repeated the words together in a soft drone.

‘You will feel a pumping behind your eyes,’ said Ms Gold. ‘Don’t be alarmed. In a few seconds that will become slightly painful, which is also perfectly normal.’

Slightly painful was an understatement. Grace found it difficult to keep her concentration on her blade of grass as little shards of pain darted through her eyeballs. As the
stinging
continued the grass in her hand ballooned and warped.

‘Your template is now yours to copy.’ Ms Gold’s voice was so smooth it made Grace feel drowsy. ‘I want you to envisage a sphere closing around your template. Pull the sphere away from that spot and place your copy on the ground. Picture your desired animal inside the sphere, and be as
detailed
as you can. When you feel it is solid, open the sphere and greet your new companion.’

Grace pictured a small lizard with light green skin and a blue fringe along its spine. It was weird, not being able to see the animal behind the sphere’s surface, but being able
somehow
to feel it take shape. When she was sure it was complete,
she willed the sphere to split in two.

Sitting on the grass in front of her was her little lizard. His tiny toes were cushioned with circular pads, his eyes were bright and black, and the fringe down his back was a
startling
shade of blue. She gasped in delight and looked at the others. Each of them was staring at her own animal. Rachel’s sleek black cat stretched forward, winding its tail around her fingertips and eyeing Adie’s bluebird, which flitted from her knee to her shoulder. Poor Una looked aghast at the hybrid creature squirming by her ankles. The head, shoulder and one arm were that of a monkey, while the bottom half appeared to be that of a small deer. She started to cry.

‘I couldn’t decide,’ she sobbed, reaching out to soothe the flailing thing, but not knowing how.

‘Don’t worry, Una,’ said Jenny. ‘It’s not like it’s real.’

‘Jenny’s right,’ said Ms Gold. ‘It’s just a figment of your imagination that can be dismissed as easily as it is created. It can’t suffer.’

‘It
looks
like it’s suffering,’ said Adie.

Ms Gold smiled and waved her hand.

‘Dismiss it, Una. That’s all you have to do.’

Una raised her hand and hesitated, gazing down at the monkey-deer with wet eyes.

‘Sorry,’ she whispered, then waved her arm roughly. The creature opened its mouth as if to cry out and popped into nothingness. Una didn’t take her eyes from the empty space.

The others stayed quiet, not wanting to make too much of their own cute companions when Una’s had been so
disastrous
. But Grace couldn’t help feeling a swell of pride at her little lizard, Adie’s bluebird and Rachel’s cat. When she looked for Jenny’s companion, though, she could only see a large, black mound.

‘What’s yours, Jenny?’ said Rachel.

Jenny smiled as the mound rose to stand on its thick black legs. It was a massive dog with caked skin instead of fur. Its face was short and mean, and its red eyes glinted wickedly in the fading light of the sun.

‘It’s hideous.’ The words were out of Grace’s mouth before she realised.

The smile vanished from Jenny’s face.

‘It’s the Hound of the Baskervilles,’ she said, holding Grace’s eye.

‘It’s extraordinary,’ breathed Ms Gold. ‘Really, Jenny, you’ve outdone yourself. It’s an exquisite example of natural skill.’

‘It won’t go for the others, will it?’ Rachel wrapped an arm around her cat.

Ms Gold laughed and rubbed her palms together.

‘That,’ she said, ‘is the second lesson of Origination. To create an animal is one thing. To maintain control of it is another. A real witch is
fearless
. The animal is yours. It must obey your will. So command it. Don’t be afraid.’

As if to demonstrate her point, the black cat sprang out of
Rachel’s arms towards the bluebird, with claws outstretched. Adie squealed and spun around, shielding the bird as the cat bounced off her back and slunk to the ground, stealthily creeping around her body for another attempt.

‘Rachel!’ Adie shouted.

‘Sorry, Adie,’ said Rachel, grabbing the cat’s
hindquarters
and draping it over her shoulder. ‘Stop messing, you. Be good.’

‘Don’t
tell
it what to do,’ said Ms Gold. ‘It’s a part of you.
Will
it to behave.’

Rachel scrunched up her face as the cat squirmed and meowed. As she and Adie struggled to keep their
companions
apart, Grace placed her hand on the ground and willed the lizard to walk forward. The animal obediently padded onto her palm and settled himself in a little coil. She gently stroked his head and smiled as he nudged her fingertips for more petting at the end of each stroke.

A deep, guttural sound interrupted the moment. The hound had turned to face her and was breathing heavily, its red eyes latched onto the lizard in her hand. Horrified, she cupped her companion to her chest.

‘Jenny,’ she said. ‘Please make it stop.’

Jenny was staring at the back of the dog, and didn’t reply. The animal exhaled with a snort, like a bull about to charge.

‘Jenny!’ Grace cried.

The hound lunged forward, its speed belying its huge
size, and Grace rolled out of its path, barely managing not to crush the lizard in her hands. The dog skidded to a halt, spinning around to charge again. As it barrelled towards her, Grace lifted the lizard and waved her hand over it, watching the green and blue creature pop into nothing. The hound slid to a stop before her and she felt its hot breath on her face. She could see the detail in the blood-red pupils, and even the whites of its eyes were stained with the colour. Once more it exhaled in a loud ‘hmph’, and readied its body to leap. Grace heard a shriek and felt herself pulled roughly aside by Rachel and Adie as the animal jumped at her.

‘Jenny!’ she gasped. ‘What are you doing?’

Again there was no answer. The hound growled in
frustration
and paced back and forth in front of the three girls.

‘Oh my God, Grace! Get up! Run!’ Rachel shouted.

‘Do something, Miss!’ screamed Adie.

‘This is part of your lesson,’ said Ms Gold, still calmly seated. ‘So, learn. Don’t be afraid.’

Grace’s body was poised to leap up and break into a sprint – but still she waited for Jenny to dismiss the hound. Jenny did nothing.

A final snort signalled a charge and Grace was off, tearing across the grass. Behind her, the commotion told her that Adie and Rachel were somehow trying – and failing – to slow the massive dog. She ran along the edge of the pitch to the path and followed it round the back of the school.
Daylight had faded but Grace knew the hound would see well in the dark.

She could hear the hound behind her; there was no time to check if the school doors were locked. Her only options were either to take the dark country road from the school gate to the bridge, or the woods. She veered left to the woods. On the road the hound would have a straight run at her. At least in the woods there were obstacles to slow him down.

She sped under the leafy canopy, springing over fallen logs and grabbing low-lying branches to hurry her along. She ran and ran, going deeper into the woods than she’d ever been, pursued all the time by the ferocious breathing and
thumping
of the hound. Finally, she dared to look back, but tripped over a rock before she could catch sight of it. She landed with a grunt and felt warm ashes on her cheek.

Grace looked up and to her right. The remains of a
campfire
smoked and crackled. Someone was resting on their hunkers, extinguishing what was left of the fire. Grace’s eyes travelled upwards. The boots were shadowed by a black slicker. Her throat constricted with fear. She looked straight into the ancient eyes of the Mirrorman.

His lip curled into a snarl, but, before he could move, the enormous hound lunged onto Grace’s back, knocking the air out of her lungs. Hot drool dripped onto her neck and she thought she’d be crushed beneath its weight. The hound opened its mouth to bite but suddenly paused. It had caught
sight of the Mirrorman. It flattened its ears, snarled and leapt off her and towards him.

The Mirrorman dodged the hound with ease, which angered the animal even more. It leaned back onto its hind legs and let out a low, piercing howl that rattled Grace’s bones. It charged again, but the Mirrorman pulled
something
from beneath his slicker. It looked like a silver pen but, as the man swung it forward, it stretched, like a piece of gum, and hardened into a long skinny blade. The hound couldn’t stop its charge; it impaled itself on the weapon with a
whimpering
yelp. The old man held the massive dog in the air for a moment, then dropped it on the ground.

Grace lay panting on her stomach with her hands pressed to the ground under her shoulders. Her legs tingled with exhaustion and she knew she wouldn’t outrun the
Mirrorman
this time. He pulled the sword from the hound’s body with a grisly squelch and turned slowly towards her.