The Accidental Invitation (The Chronicles of the Accidental Witch Book 2) Read online

  Now it’s a scary place, a sombre place, a pretty ominous place. Now, I’m scared, and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to come here again and have fun.

  If I live through this, that is.

  Will I live through this? I close my eyes but all I can see is a swirl of colour and all I can hear is a wall of noise.

  This is like a scene from a film.

  The witches are standing firm, like lines of soldiers, waiting for the enemy to come closer. And they are coming closer.

  The twins and Sally are standing in front of me like sentries. Thea has reached behind her and she has her hand placed on my arm. Comfort. Protection. Reassurance. All three. It’s working.

  A little bit of sick comes up into my mouth and I swallow it down. They are all being so brave – I’m the head witch – and they are all being braver than me. I will not puke.

  The line of our enemy is only thirty foot from us when they stop. Who will make the first move and what will the first move be? This looks so neat and tidy and I forget how bloody and chaotic real battles are. When you see them on the TV you can never figure out who is on which side, and who is alive or dead. The lines are much clearer here.

  And when Elodie blasts a spark out of her hand – not a spark, a firebolt – that shoots past the front line and sets their supporters on fire, I know we’re not here to play. This is going to be every bit as nasty as any battle you might see on the small or big screen.

  I hold my breath as the screaming starts and the chaos unfolds.

  I cannot watch all of them and so I keep missing things, but it seems quicker and easier than I imagined. I know they want to keep Efa and Zeta alive if possible, so they can question them further about the alliance and ensure it ends after this battle, but I think everyone else is fair game.

  I follow Fletcher with my eyes after the fire ball and he’s with his aunt. They quickly and simply spell Efa, bundle her in actual rope, not just magical binds, and they fly her through the air where she lands at Talia’s feet. Talia actually sits on her and I almost laugh. It’s as good a way as any of keeping her down, I guess.

  Elodie is in a stand off with Zeta, both have their hands up, but their magic is pretty equal by the looks of it. Fletcher and Ember join her.

  When I glance around, David has Layland by the scruff of his shirt and he’s raining punches down on him; not very magical but it seems to be effective. Then he lifts his hand and shoots a fire spark right at his heart. I want the man dead, but I still wince when his body flops onto the floor. Dead.

  Jane is facing Peri, and Peri has a knife in her hand. She’s light on her feet, dancing forwards to slash at Jane, but missing each time. Layland dead, David turns to help his wife and in seconds Peri is as dead as Layland. Her wings cease fluttering and I feel sick again.

  This is horrific. I’m not enjoying it. I know I’m not meant to enjoy it, but it’s making me feel queasy.

  What a waste of life.

  The extra witches haven’t even done anything yet, and I know they won’t need to until the demons are called forth. I wonder why Zeta hasn’t done it yet – they are the best weapon in her arsenal – not that I’m complaining.

  I wonder if she’s even noticed that her numbers have dwindled so much. We have Efa, the other two of the rebel trio are dead. The supporters that stood behind her in solidarity are dead too. Every now and then one of them moans and tries to stand, but gets blasted by somebody. I cannot even see who.

  Now Zeta stands facing Fletcher, his mum and aunt and Sally’s parents. She cannot hope to win, but she better not hurt Fletcher. Her magic isn’t strong enough to defeat Elodie and now she stands alone. As soon as the five of them turn their magic on her, she’ll be obliterated. Nobody could withstand it.

  I feel a little sorry for her. She still looks like a damn film star, even as she stands there so obviously on the brink of defeat.

  And then she whistles, piercingly loud, like she’s trying to call a pack of dogs, and I suppose she is.

  The demons.

  Almost immediately the pier begins to shake, and tremble and I cannot figure out what it is. The ground underneath me is shaking and I’m not the only one looking scared to death.

  And then I see them swarming over the edge of the pier where they’ve been hiding in the sea. They are dripping wet, some of them are wearing seaweed like scarves, and then all hell breaks loose.

  The witches descend like banshees, screaming, shooting flames from their hands, magically picking demons up and flinging them off the edge of the pier, but they keep coming back, or more of them come, or, who even knows, but there are hundreds and hundreds of them. I see a few witches go down, dead, and in the chaos, I cannot see Zeta anymore.

  The girls are still in front of me, but they are warding off attacks. Some of the demons have passed the other witches and are heading our way.

  I cannot see past them to see how anybody else is faring and panic completely overtakes me. The three girls are standing now, with Efa, still magically bound and furious beside me. She cannot get up and I don’t plan on helping her, but I feel nervous that she’s so close to me.

  Sally is pushing a demon back with an invisible force. The demon is pushing forward, but she is pushing him back, hand out, concentration covering her face. She’s trying her best, putting herself at risk, to keep me safe.

  I’m overwhelmed with guilt and fear and the noise, deafening and frightening is making my head a muddle. Thea and Talia are back to back shooting off demons with fire from their hands. They are doing an amazing job. I feel so stupid and helpless, pitiful and pathetic.

  Sally is edging away from us, pushing back at the demon but being pulled along with him. She pushes and pushes, with each step, going further into the throng of demons. Soon she’s in the middle of them – thwarting of attackers but nowhere near us.

  I call her back, but she doesn’t answer me. Maybe she can’t hear me, or maybe she’s too intent on pushing the demons away from her now. I see her father at her side and I breathe a little easier.

  I look to the twins and they are coping perfectly, better than I ever could. And then I see Efa beside me. She’s struggling against the magic that’s holding her, and I wonder if there’s enough witch in her to escape. I don’t want to be around if she does. Then I get an idea; I’m pretty useless here, but I can move. I kneel beside her and start rolling her along the floor. It’s not far to the edge of the pier. I know they wanted to keep her alive if they could, but if she wriggles out of her magical bonds and her actual bonds, which I swear I can see loosening as I look at her, she will kill me; without a second’s hesitation. I push and push. She’s not easy to move – I think she’s pushing back, she definitely has magic inside her. Then I remember that she will not be able to kill me, which makes me feel a little bit better. But not much – I’m sure she could take me to someone who’d do the dirty deed for her.

  I hoik her up onto her feet and it takes all my strength; she’s starting to wriggle even more now. I think she knows what I’m going to do.

  I don’t like the idea, because she’ll drown, but I cannot let her kill me.

  This is what it always comes down to: kill or be killed.

  By lifting her and using my body to pin her against the pier’s railings, I manage to get her off the floor and up the railings, and then there’s a second where she’s teetering on the edge, her eyes pleading with me.

  I cannot go soft now. I cannot let her make me feel bad. “Enjoy your swim,” I mutter and shove her off the pier.

  17

  There’s an ear-splitting scream the minute Efa hits the sea – but it isn’t her screaming, it’s her mother. Zeta is screaming, howling, swearing and blasting flames at anyone who comes near her, scrambling backwards now, desperate to get around the hordes of demons and witches to find her daughter, the magical bond between them telling Zeta she is in danger. She ducks and rolls, switches and spins, so sprightly for a woman of her age and then she is face to face w
ith Ellis. “You!”

  The pier becomes silent as the two of them look at each other. Ellis nods. “Kill or be killed.”

  Zeta screams and launches herself at her.

  Ellis ducks out of the way, behind the sign welcoming people to the pier and tries to catch her breath. Head witch or not, she knows instinctively that she’s no match for a crone.

  Zeta is only seconds behind her, Ellis can hear her, and so she scoots around the front, like a child going around and around in circles, hoping not to get caught, moving faster than she ever has, filled with a greater fear than she has ever known.

  In the midst of the demons and witches now, flames and spells, panic and noise, Ellis cannot see who is a friend, and who is an enemy, the faces have blurred and she is sure she will die. She pushes and weaves through the crowd, keeping her head down and her feet fast, aware that Zeta is behind her, thankfully missing with every magical flash she sends her way. At any second she could also get hit by a wayward blast of one of the people who want to keep her safe. It’s not easy to be sure of an accurate shot in the middle of this mayhem.

  Ellis sprints as fast as she can away from the crowd, to the emptier end of the pier, ducks behind a bench and crouches down. She cannot hope to stay alive in the thick of the battle. Even from here she cannot see Fletcher, or anybody else that she recognises. The pier has become a magical mash of bodies, spells, fire and death. She throws up on the floor, just missing her shoes.

  She knows she cannot outrun this witch; she will have to face her, but she has no idea how to stop her or if she can stay calm and focussed enough to do it. Fire; she has made fire before. And so she stands, out from behind the bench, hands out, ready. Zeta strolls down the pier, carnage behind her, so single minded in her quest that it’s as though the fight has faded away.

  Ellis watches, wishing, hoping, praying even, that someone will come from behind her, and end Zeta’s life.

  Zeta smiles, a slow, horrible smile, full of evil and danger. She stops and faces Ellis, not even needing to catch her breath, her stroll was so nonchalant. It’s as though she knows she will win.

  Ellis throws up again, wiping her mouth with her sleeve, not even caring how disgusting she might appear.

  Now there’s only a few feet between them.

  Ellis lifts her hands back up, like a boxer preparing to fight, but with her palms flat.

  “Go on. Try it,” Zeta says, snarling at Ellis.

  Ellis nods. She has to try. As hopeless as it feels, how blindly she might be working with her magical abilities, she cannot not be distracted; she raises her hands higher and screams the word fire in her head. Sparks come out of her finger tips, but no fire. She tries again, willing her magic to work, like it did before.

  Nothing happens.

  Fear freezes her. Panic ensnares her. If she was a cartoon her heart would be beating out of her chest.

  She swallows down some more sick and closes her eyes for a second. It’s inevitable; she cannot do it. She can conjure up chocolate and pizza at the slightest grumble in her tummy, but she cannot stop this maniac who wants to murder her.

  Zeta takes another step towards Ellis and then she just keeps on coming. Ellis desperately wills fire or anything else to help her stop this witch from taking her and hurting her, but nothing is working. She screams out Fletcher’s name as Zeta clamps a hand around her mouth, her arm around her waist and, without a beat of hesitation, flies them away. She easily gets through the protections surrounding the pier and is cackling as they go. Ellis shakes off Zeta’s hand and screams out Fletcher’s name over and over, despite the wind in her mouth, and the fear in her heart.

  All she can hope, as they fly out of sight, is that he hears her or one of their number hears her. If they don’t, then she is dead.

  Fletcher pauses, sure he heard Ellis calling out to him, despite the mad noise all around him. He blasts demons off the pier as he backs away from the crowd, his eyes scanning for Ellis. He hears her calling him, but he cannot see her in the midst of all the carnage around him. It’s maddening; she must be in trouble and he can’t help her if he can’t see her.

  He heads closer to the entrance to the pier, and in the gaps in the mash of bodies fighting he can see the twins are at the entrance, where they’re supposed to be, but he can’t see Sally or Ellis. The twins are battling demons too, but Ellis is not beside them, where she’s supposed to be. He calls out for her but there’s no answer.

  He needs to get closer. Hopefully she’s hiding out of sight, out of danger. But if she is safe, he knows, she wouldn’t be screaming his name.

  He kicks at one demon and pushes another away, still looking for Ellis, still calling out to her. He spots his mother and Ember though the throng of bodies, but he still can’t see her.

  Blasting demons as he goes, he moves through the crowd. They are definitely winning this fight. He knows they have Efa bound. He knows Peri and Layland are dead. Zeta scrambled away but someone else might have got her by now.

  All he can do is keep killing the demons, then they will know who survived and where everyone is. With renewed strength, he powers through the crowd, killing demon after demon after demon, sweat pooling into his eyes. He makes his way to the pier entrance, to the twins. It’s gone quiet where they are now, the others managing to hold off the dwindling number of demons. Fletcher is panting as he asks them where Ellis is. Neither of them knows. She had been just beside them, with Efa.

  Efa is missing too.

  He tells the twins to tuck out of sight and then he attacks demons again. With hardly any left, he still can’t see Ellis, and fear creeps over him. He jumps up on a bench, kicking at a demon that comes too close, watching his mother blast it with fire.

  “She’s gone.” He jumps off the bench and goes to his mother’s side. There are only three demons left and they are quickly blasted by Ember, Sally and Jane.

  “Ellis is gone. And Efa. And Zeta.” His voice doesn’t sound like his own, fear has stripped it away and it’s raw.

  “She can’t be.”

  But they can easily see that she is. The dead demons vanish moments after death so the only bodies on the pier are Peri, Layland and the fifty or so supernatural creatures who chose to fight with them. Elodie’s fireball wiped most of them out in a heartbeat, and it’s easy to see that Ellis isn’t among them.

  “Zeta’s taken her.”

  None of them are injured, though they are bedraggled and sweaty. “Let’s go.” Ember clicks her fingers. If Zeta has taken her, they won’t be far behind.

  “Where?”

  “Let’s try the cottage, it’ll only take a second. Then we’ll go to John’s.”

  “You think he has her?”

  “I think if Zeta still thinks he’s on her side, then Zeta is thinking he will kill her. She can’t do it, remember.”

  They magically turn the bodies to ash and let the wind take them, undo the magical protections and fly away, quickly, before anybody notices them.

  A quick check of the Mumbles cottage tells them it’s empty.

  “Fletcher knows the way to John’s house,” Elodie says and Fletcher nods.

  Ellis

  Okay, so flying in Fletcher’s arms is my favourite thing to do, flying in Zeta’s arms is making me wish I was already dead.

  She’s beautiful and glamourous and evil and because I’m so close to her, wrapped in her murderous arms, I can smell a sour sort of sickness coming from her. Instead of the perfume of roses or lilacs, like most grannies, she stinks of death. She reeks of fear. She embodies everything terrible about this world and it’s coming off her in waves, from her pores.

  The end of my life is rushing towards me in a flurry of disjointed and panicky thoughts.

  I’ll never see my mum again or hold her tight or roll my eyes at how annoying she is when she nags me. I’ll never shop for my wedding dress with her. I’ll never ask her to help me look after my first child, unsure and desperate for her wisdom and wishing I might be as
good a mum as she is. I’ll never hold her hand when she’s old and tired and her skin is papery. I’ll never kiss her goodbye just before she takes her last breath, so many years from now.

  I’ll never see my dad again, with his rubbish jokes and childlike glee over gadgets and gizmos. I’ll never feel that pang of love for him I get when we’re driving in the car and he waves so enthusiastically at someone he knows, grinning from ear to ear, but then pretending he’s not bothered when they don’t see him, or they don’t wave back even when they do. I’ll never get to protect him from old age, comforting him and helping him. I’ll never see him do his stupid magic tricks, trying to impress my children and failing, as they smile at him because they love him and even though he’s a rubbish magician, he’s a brilliant grandpa.

  And Isey. Isaac. I’ll never get to tell him that I love him so much and for every time I’ve annoyed him on purpose and ruffled his hair even though I know it bugs him or teased him and his friends for being geeks, I couldn’t love him more. I’ll never get to see him grow up, get taller than me, fall in love, have conversations about our parents where we roll our eyes and laugh at things only we understand because we’re siblings and best friends.

  I am crying as we fly, the wind stealing my tears as Zeta is about to steal my life.

  She circles for a while and then lands by the big apple kiosk. She binds me with magic and tells me not to move. Then she mumbles a spell and I feel my whole body go rigid as though I’ve been tied to a board. I cannot move, and I cannot speak.

  But I can cry.