The Broken Spell (13 page)

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Authors: Erika McGann

BOOK: The Broken Spell
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The school bell echoed throughout the corridors as Grace pushed her way to her locker in the A block. She spied Una and Rachel in the crowd and signalled to them that she would be two minutes. Adie met her at her locker.

‘Grace, do you think we should tell Ms Lemon about the Mirrorman?’

Grace’s chest tightened with worry and guilt at the
mention
of him.

‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘If we tell her that, we have to tell her… everything. You know, about the lessons with Ms Gold and all that, not to mention dabbling with time spells. Best to keep it to ourselves. Besides, Ms Gold will probably take care of him herself and, if she couldn’t, I’m sure she’d ask Ms Lemon and Mrs Quinlan for help.’

‘Yeah,’ said Adie, ‘you’re probably right.’

‘Jenny!’

Una was waving enthusiastically up the corridor and shouting.

Grace’s pace slowed, but she noticed Adie quicken her step towards the others. Una jogged up the hall to speak to Jenny, who was frowning and shaking her head as Una gripped her arm and kept talking. Grace wondered what she was saying. It certainly didn’t look like Jenny was getting a telling off.

Whatever the conversation had been about, it was rudely interrupted when Tracy Murphy appeared and pushed Una against the wall, keeping one hand on her chest and using the other to root through Una’s bag. She ignored Jenny’s angry protest and took a tube of lip gloss out of the
rucksack
, promptly depositing it in her own pocket. As Adie and Rachel rushed up the corridor, Jenny pulled the lip gloss out of the Beast’s pocket and poked her in the back of the neck with it. Without missing a beat, Tracy dropped Una and fired her elbow into Jenny’s shoulder. As Jenny stumbled, the Beast snatched the lip gloss out of her hand, grinned and walked away.

‘Are you guys okay?’ Adie gasped as she and Rachel helped them to their feet.

‘Yeah,’ Una said wearily.

Jenny didn’t reply but her eyes were burning with fury.

‘Forget about her,’ Rachel said sympathetically. ‘You’re
both alright and that’s all that matters.’

‘Are you alright? We’ve got a lesson with Ms Lemon now,’ Grace said, joining them. She avoided looking Jenny in the eye. The others made a move to go, but Jenny stared into the middle distance, her mouth pursed and her breathing laboured.

‘Are you coming, Jenny?’ said Adie.

‘I’m meeting with Ms Gold,’ said Jenny. ‘I’m not
bothering
with Lemon and the Cat Hag anymore. They’re a waste of time.’

‘Are you sure?’ asked Adie. ‘I know the lessons are boring, but don’t you think we need the practical
and
the theory?’

Jenny snorted, shooting Grace a sneer.

‘Like I said,’ she answered, walking away. ‘Waste of time.’

‘Come on,’ said Grace, picking up Una’s bag and tying it closed for her. ‘Ms Lemon will be waiting.’

The teacher was at the Main Entrance. Giving them a cheery greeting, she ushered the group outside and into the car park.

‘No Jenny today?’ she asked.

Grace was fumbling for a reply when she saw Jenny near the school gates, panting mist, with her arms rigid and her palms pressing downwards. Her face was wide-eyed with surprise and delight.

‘There she is,’ Ms Lemon said, frowning. They watched as Jenny paced two steps forward, then back, as if not
knowing which way she wanted to go. The girl seemed oblivious to them until they reached her, when her smile broadened mischievously and she shrugged her shoulders, loosening the tension in her arms.

‘Jenny, are you okay?’ Ms Lemon reached out but Jenny stepped back, still smiling.

‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I’m better than fine.’

‘Oh my God!’ Adie shrieked.

Grace followed her gaze to the wall, where someone was crouching, with her face and hands raised to the sky in an unnatural position. A dark red ponytail hung stiffly from the back of her head. Tracy Murphy held the awkward pose so perfectly still that she looked like a frightened mannequin. Ms Lemon’s jaw dropped as she walked towards the
motionless
figure with blue-lined eyes that didn’t blink. The Beast was frozen solid.

‘What the…?’ the teacher gasped, turning to Jenny. ‘Did
you
do this?’

Jenny beamed and nodded. Ms Lemon looked stricken with shock.

‘Release her,’ she said after a long pause. ‘Immediately.’

Jenny’s smile vanished.

‘I did this all by myself.’

‘I know you did.’ The teacher’s voice was low and
measured
, like she was dealing with a dangerous animal that could lash out at any moment. ‘And we’ll discuss it later. But for
now, you
must
release her.’

‘Now, Beth. She hasn’t done the girl any harm.’ Grace was startled by the sound of Ms Gold’s voice right behind her. ‘It’s a simple immobility spell. There are no serious
ramifications
.’

Ms Gold stepped between the girls to stand beside Jenny and place her hand on her shoulder.

‘No
ramifications
?’ Ms Lemon’s voice was still carefully low. ‘She has cast a spell, in anger, against another child.’ She turned to Jenny. ‘This is wrong, Jenny, very wrong.’

‘This is a remarkable effort, Jenny,’ Ms Gold said,
squeezing
her shoulder. ‘I’m very proud of you.’

‘Meredith!’ Ms Lemon exclaimed. ‘Stop this! These girls are my students and my responsibility. I won’t have them exposed to your dangerous way of thinking.’


I
have been training the girls for weeks, Beth.
I
have been honing their skills and teaching them witchcraft as it is meant to be taught.’

Ms Lemon suddenly burst forward, strands of her neat hair loosening and framing her reddening cheeks.

‘How dare you!’ she shouted. ‘You had no right to approach them. You knew very well how Vera and I felt about it, but you were your usual deceitful self.
How dare you!


They
approached
me
,’ said Ms Gold calmly.

Grace felt her stomach lurch as Ms Lemon went still.

‘They asked for my help,’ Ms Gold continued, ‘because
they were frustrated, and how could they not be? They caught a glimpse of a fantastical world that they’re desperate to be a part of and, instead of opening the door and guiding them in, you kept them chained outside to watch through windows. They needed someone like me.’

Ms Lemon looked to each of the girls, but none of them could meet her eyes. Grace glanced up only long enough to see the hurt etched across the teacher’s face.

‘It’s not too late, Beth,’ said Ms Gold, her voice still smooth as honey. ‘We could work together.’

Ms Lemon’s eyes went wide.

‘Are you crazy?’ she breathed. ‘You’re dangerous and
irresponsible
! You’ll destroy the good nature that these girls have. Look what you’ve done already?’ She pointed to the motionless Tracy.

‘Very well, then,’ said Ms Gold. ‘It’s obvious we can’t work in tandem, so we’ll let them choose. The girls will choose with whom they wish to continue their training, and the other will back off. Sound fair?’

Ms Lemon’s pained look worsened as she glanced at the girls, all with their eyes averted.

‘Girls,’ said Ms Gold. ‘If you wish to resume theoretical
lessons
with Ms Lemon, then please feel free to leave with her now. Otherwise, stay with me and continue on the
extraordinary
journey you have begun.’

Grace looked at the others, her eyes begging someone to
speak. But nobody looked up. Adie and Rachel stared fixedly at their shoes, while Una twisted her thumb and finger in a hole in the sleeve of her jumper. Grace took a breath, but before she could speak Ms Lemon leapt forward meeting Ms Gold face to face.

‘Why did you come back here?’ she said. ‘What do you want?’

‘This is my home,’ Ms Gold replied. ‘You chased me out once before. You won’t do it again.’

There was a long pause before Ms Lemon stepped back, looking frazzled in a way Grace had never seen before. She gave the girls a reproachful look and marched back to the school.

‘That was unpleasant,’ said Ms Gold, still gripping Jenny’s shoulder. ‘I apologise. But now I’m free to take you all firmly on the road to Wicca. First things first, let’s unfreeze this poor girl before anyone else sees her. Jenny, will you do the honours?’

Jenny grinned happily as Grace turned to catch a last glimpse of Ms Lemon. But she was already gone.

The heady air of Mr Pamuk’s shop was oddly relaxing, and Grace took her time wandering around the place. She hadn’t intended to stick around for Ms Gold’s lesson anyway, but at the first mention of the Mirrorman she had made her excuses and left.

She wondered now what new spell the others were
learning
, but she was afraid her face would have betrayed the guilt she felt at bringing him into their world. Ms Gold had said they needed to capture him, to bind his powers and protect themselves, but Grace knew what she needed was to send him back to his own time.

‘Is there anything in particular you are searching for?’ Mr Pamuk’s smile was as welcoming as ever.

‘Figwort,’ Grace said firmly. ‘Green Figwort.’

Mr Pamuk’s eyebrows lifted almost to his hairline.

‘Rare indeed,’ he said. ‘Did you know that the plant grows in this country?’

‘I know,’ Grace replied. ‘There was a little patch of it near here, but it’s… it’s used up.’

‘I see.’ His eyes searched her face with interest. ‘You know, when one must harvest a specimen that is close to extinction, it is advisable to use as little as possible. And always to leave enough for the plant to rejuvenate.’

Grace felt her face grow hot.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise. I’ll be careful in future.’

‘It is not in the seller’s best interests,’ said the shopkeeper, ‘to pry into the business of his clients. Though Green
Figwort
is scarce, it is fortunately not a frequent ingredient in Wiccan recipes.’ He examined her closely again, but with his smile still wide and caring. ‘One hopes one’s clients remain as safe as possible.’

Grace smiled shyly and nodded her head in understanding.

‘Otherwise,’ he said, with a sudden laugh, ‘I might run out of customers!’

Grace watched him duck under the hanging partition behind his desk and heard him rummage through boxes and stacks of jars. As she waited, she walked slowly around the cavern, drawn to the enchanted mirror that had first shown her the Mirrorman. A familiar feeling of dread filled her body as her fingers traced the gilded frame that she had seen,
most recently, in her nightmares.

She fixed on her reflection in the glass. Like before, the image deepened until she felt she might reach out and feel her own cheek. Her head became light as the whisper of mist began curling in the centre of the frame. Still she did not move.

‘An enchanted looking glass is still just a looking glass… just a reflection.’ Mr Pamuk’s words echoed in her mind and she steeled her courage, refusing to back away. Even when the face formed, and the eyes flickered open – one blue, one milky white – she didn’t look away. Holding her breath, she waited for his useless attack.

But the face didn’t lunge at her. The eyes closed and the face dropped back, like a pebble in a lake, leaving ripples that travelled to the edges of the mirror. The ripples gradually resolved to reveal a blurry scene, which jarred like
stop-motion
animation, randomly shot through with bursts of black and purple. Grace leaned in and could just make out the P block, the site of the demon well.

There were flying limbs and moving bodies passing through the image, accompanied by distorted, panicky sounds. It was some kind of emergency. Through the turmoil she suddenly recognised Adie’s dark curls and almond-shaped eyes. Then Rachel’s fair face. Both were on their knees, with their hands bound, screaming. As she caught her breath, there was a glimpse of Una opposite them, her short black hair hanging 
down as she cried in anguish. There was a shot of Jenny’s panicked eyes, then the image swung from left to right, and the figures blurred, and started to fade.

Grace smacked her hands onto the glass, trying to draw the image back so she could see more. But it drifted into the mist, and soon she found herself staring into her own
reflection
. She sank to her knees and dug her phone out of her bag, scrolling furiously through her contacts.

‘Adie?’

‘Hey Grace, what’s up? You didn’t stick around for the lesson.’ Adie’s voice was calm and normal.

Grace took a few breaths, relief bringing tears to her eyes.

‘Are you okay?’ Adie went on. ‘I know you’re upset about Ms Lemon. We all are… It’s just–’

‘It’s okay,’ Grace breathed, climbing to her feet. ‘I’m okay. Just checking in. I’ll call you later.’

She leaned her back against the mirror, taking long deep breaths.

‘Green Figwort,’ Mr Pamuk declared, emerging from behind the partition with a large jar in his hands. ‘I must warn you though, it’s not cheap.’

Grace rooted for the cash in her pocket – all the money she had in the world – and held it out to him.

‘I’ll take it,’ she said.

At lunchtime the next day, Grace hunkered down in one corner of the deserted P block, just feet from where she knew the demon well to be. The silver fork squeaked against the porcelain dish; she steadied herself and placed her hand on the yearbook that lay beside her. She held it open on the photograph of the young Mrs Quinlan, Ms Lemon and Ms Gold, focusing on their faces. The first time-spell had stopped bouncing Grace back to 1977. But now she needed to restart it. She chanted softly:

‘Beloved Chronos, lord of time,

Thy bounty and thy strength divine,

With meek and humble force I cast

This charm to view what now is past.’

She held her concentration as the metallic clanging picked up speed and settled into a rhythm.

Clickety-click-click

Clickety-click-click

Grace let the sound wash over her, closing her eyes against the flashing light and the foghorn blast. She felt a cool breeze brush through her hair.

She opened her eyes to find herself standing on the grassy patch where the P block didn’t yet exist. It was lunchtime in the old St John’s, and the blocks thronged with students opening and closing lockers and sitting cross-legged in groups on the floor. Grace hurried down the corridor and turned left, hoping that the coven’s use of the library had not
been a one-off. Looking through the square pane of glass in the door, she could see a few people scattered throughout the large room. She was in luck, for tucked in one corner, barely visible behind a high stack of shelves were Vera, Beth and Meredith.

They were arguing again. Meredith stood with her arms outstretched, talking fast with her face pinched in
frustration
. Vera was perched on a table, with one foot on a chair, a vision of calm indifference. She appeared to be listening impassively while Meredith gestured and stamped her foot, finally crossing her arms and pursing her lips. A few seconds of frozen silence then appeared to pass between the three, until Vera swung her foot off the chair and stood.

Grace couldn’t hear what she said but whatever it was sent an angry flush through Meredith’s cheeks and, as Vera walked past her, Grace was sure the young Ms Gold’s shaking fists would strike out. But the girl just stood and glared at Beth, as if expecting some reaction. There was none, so
Meredith
stalked away through the exit in the far corner. Beth sat alone with her head bowed and her long fringe shading one eye. This was Grace’s chance.

Taking a quick look around to make sure she was alone, she held out her hands and whispered under her breath. It took three attempts to catch the Glamour buzz but, finally, she was able to look at her reflection in the window and see a stranger looking back. Grace was now shorter, with
sandy-coloured hair, a squarer chin and blue eyes instead of green. It was nothing compared to Rachel’s skill, but it would do. She pushed through the door.

‘Hi. It’s Bethany, isn’t it?’ Grace spoke quietly but there was little chance of anyone in the library overhearing them.

Beth shook her fringe to one side and looked up with shy, hazel eyes.

‘Beth,’ she said warily.

‘Beth, right. I’m Gray… Anna. Grayanna.’

Beth frowned.

‘It’s French,’ said Grace. ‘My, uh, Mum’s French. From France. She doesn’t live there anymore, she lives here,
obviously
. ’Cos I live here… obviously… Anyway, it’s a French name.’

Grace resisted the urge to kick herself, but Beth just smiled.

‘I like it,’ she said.

‘Thanks.’

Grace took a seat and willed herself to calm down.

‘Look,’ she said, ‘I hate to get straight to it, but I don’t know how long I have here and I need your help.’

The hazel eyes frowned again.

‘I know we’ve never met before, but I know a lot about you. Much more than just your name. And I know about your friends as well – Vera and Meredith. I know that you’re…’ Grace leaned forward ‘…
witches
.’

Beth started and looked around, panicked, though there
was no-one close enough to hear. She looked back at Grace, her breathing quick and her eyes round with worry. She grabbed her bag and jumped to her feet.

‘Wait!’ said Grace, catching her arm and holding it. ‘I’m not going to hurt you, or expose you, or anything like that. I just need your help.’

‘Have you been spying on us?’ Beth hissed.

‘Not exactly,’ replied Grace. ‘But I did come here to find you. You see,
I’m
a witch too.’

She had never said as much before, and felt an odd swell of pride declaring it out loud.

‘I don’t believe you,’ said Beth.

‘I’ll prove it.’

Grace looked around for a life template. She focused her attention downwards, hoping the wooden desk would be enough to work with, and whispered,


Ex vita vetera, vita nova
.’

In her mind’s eye, she wrapped a sphere around the life template, copying it, and pulling it to her open hand. She pictured the sphere opening, and in the centre of her palm appeared a small, yellow frog. Beth’s mouth fell open. She gazed at the animal with growing delight and lifted a finger to touch the creature’s back.


Ribbit
,’ it croaked.

She giggled, raising her hand to touch it again. The frog made tiny, clicking sounds as she stroked its back.

‘You
are
a witch,’ she whispered.

Grace exhaled in relief, not realising she’d been holding her breath.

‘So what do you need from us?’ Beth asked.

‘This is going to sound really strange, but I’m not from your time. I’m from the future.’

Beth’s smile disappeared as she gently picked up the frog and held it to her chest, though Grace saw her steal a glance at the school crest on Grace’s jumper that was missing from her own.

‘I’ve been here before,’ Grace went on. ‘My friends and I did this spell, and it … well, it didn’t work properly. Anyway, I brought something back with me to my own time. Not something,
someone
. He shouldn’t be there and I need to bring him back here. But I don’t know how.’

‘Can’t your friends help you?’

‘They don’t know it was me who brought him to our time and we’re… we’re not getting along very well at the moment. It’s complicated.’

Beth tickled the frog under the chin.

‘I see.’

‘Will you help me?’

Beth softly blew through her lips, then gasped as the frog suddenly leapt out of her hands and onto the bookcase. She chased after it, unable to reach the top shelf, and let out a helpless cry as the animal sprang off the end of the bookcase.
Before it hit the ground, Grace flicked her fingers in the air and the companion popped into nothing. The light popping sound was followed by the far away sound of a train.

‘Oh God,’ said Grace, ‘I’m about to bounce back to my own time. Hurry, please tell me you’ll help.’

Beth was waving her hands in the space where the frog used to be.

‘Beth!’ said Grace. ‘I need to know if you’ll help me.
Please
.’

Clickety-click-click

Clickety-click-click

‘I’ll talk to the others,’ replied Beth. ‘When will you be back?’

‘I don’t know,’ Grace said. ‘I can’t control it. Please promise you’ll talk to them soon. As soon as possible.’

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