Page 98 of Too Hexed to Handle

‘You can just call it magic, you know. This is how it’s supposed to be. And who do you think helped you in the maze?’

I’d seen a flash of gold among my shadows. I thought I’d done it, but it was her.

‘I used the rest of my magic healing everyone who’d been hurt that night. That’s why I couldn’t stop you running off with the items on the mountain. I only managed to replenish this morning.’

Without an Astin at her disposal, I wonder how she ever had light magic at all – regular magic, to her, I suppose, but after everything it’ll always feel light to me. ‘Where do you . . . I mean, how do you . . . ?’

‘Get my magic?’ Nuri studies me, taking in my expression. ‘Didn’t you have anyone in your family to teach you anything?’

‘No. I’m the first since my great-great-granduncle. I never met him.’

I never even had the nerve to properly read his diaries. And now I know Howard wasn’t deranged, or lying. He’d mentioned everything being golden, that his partner had smiled after he’d channelled him. It was only when Gregory mistook the charmmark for a hex that he panicked. When I return to the inn, I’ll pore over the contents and learn everything I can. Howard doesn’t need to be a shameful secret, a stain on our family’s history we keep shoved in a box, not any more.

‘There’s lots of us around, if you know where to look,’ Nuri says. ‘I can introduce you to my coven, if you want. Humans are oblivious, of course. Always looking out for scary monsters, not someone who’s the same as them. You’ll have walked past us your whole life. The larger covens have kept in touch through generations, passing down heirlooms and knowledge that humans thought they’d destroyed – like the fact that potion in the temple wasn’t a cure.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘Damian wanted me to finish making it. He wanted to become one of us.’

She scowls. ‘I assumed as much. But honestly, we suspect it was never going to be finished. You can’t just become a witch, no matter how much magic you drink. Ozias tried for months to make it work, pouring more and more magic into it. The process was slowly killing him. His coven begged him to stop, but he blamed himself for what Clarabelle was doing to our kind. They were together before she knew what he was, but when she found out she became . . . overly interested. She’d allow him to channel her emotions, but would demand he use all his magic to assist with whatever whim she had that day. And when he started to refuse, she got angry.’

She sounds like Damian. Wanting what she couldn’t have, trying to use someone who loved her instead of simply loving them back. But not all humans are like that. Astin’s not like that. And that gives me hope there are more humans out there who will one day welcome us, who will accept what magic we can offer without demanding more.

‘Ozias told her he couldn’t feed on her any more, not while her emotions were so unpleasant. But a lot of humans were restless now, and jealous, and she saw an opportunity. She decided to cut witches off from all emotions, until she got what she wanted. Witches, we feel everything so deeply. Certain emotions call to us more than others: love and joy and happiness. We want to embrace them. Enhance them. The more we’re deprived of them, the more desperate we get. Hungry, for any emotion at all. That’s when the attacks began. And once we started feeding on negative emotions, it was hard to stop, like we became so consumed by the awfulness we became awful ourselves.’

Love is the key. Perhaps that’s what Ozias meant, when he had the locket engraved. The key for us to stay good is to surround ourselves with nothing but positivity and light. Clarabelle knew it, and she took it from us.

‘Clarabelle used the attacks to stoke up hatred for our kind, and then blackmailed Ozias into creating the potion. When it became apparent he wasn’t going to succeed, she killed him and allowed the hatred for witches to continue. Tried to destroy all records of the time before. If she couldn’t have magic, at the very least, she could ensure we were miserable and in hiding.’

I sniff. ‘And the potion? Why keep it in the temple at all? Why not destroy it?’

‘Whatever Ozias had done to it, the bottle and its contents were indestructible. To stop the humans getting their hands on it, his coven pooled together enough magic to create a wraith that would last thousands of years, spelled to allow only a Souleater to touch the bottle, and added the restrictions to enter the temple as a back-up.’

‘That wraith was created from dark magic though, wasn’t it? If his whole coven had succumbed to it, I’m surprised they cared enough to protect anything.’

‘Well, they were mostly protecting themselves from Clarabelle. And the corruption is gradual. Some were worse off than others. When they discovered the humans were planning to attack the settlement, the witches still of sound mind went into hiding. These days, although some of us still operate among humans, trading whatever emotion they can get in dark corners, the rest of us channel from each other. It’s safer that way.’ She scowls. ‘Took me ages to convince my family to give me a little extra magic for this trip. We didn’t have any items to open the temple at home, and they thought it was too dangerous for me to be running around Rerta during the festival. They said I should stay hidden and let the temple’s protections do their work. But I wanted to stop anyone getting hurt by the wraith. Maybe even move the potion to a new location.’

‘You could have told the truth.’

‘And how would that have gone? “Hey, everybody, I know you’ve been convinced this thing is a cure for centuries, but you’re wrong, except don’t ask me how I know, because if I tell you I’m a Soulbonker, you’ll try to kill me.”’

‘Soulbonker?’

She giggles. ‘Sorry. Habit. I had to throw everyone off my scent. I tried to convince as many people as possible to withdraw from the contest, but it was difficult when they were all starry-eyed over Damian’s promises. I couldn’t offer them the same reward, with the limited magic I had.’

‘Speaking of magic.’ I eye her fresh gold band. ‘I have a roomful of hexed people who need our help.’

‘Of course.’ She hops off the table and prods Damian’s statue once more. ‘This is quite the spectacle. You sure you didn’t do it?’

‘No, I –’ I bite my lip. ‘The whole corrupted by awfulness thing. Can a Souleater come back from it?’

She shrugs. ‘Maybe, I suppose. But you seem stable. And in case you haven’t noticed, that man you’re travelling with is totally obsessed with you. Stick with him, and you’ll be fine.’

‘I intend to,’ I say, biting down a smile. ‘But I wasn’t talking about me.’

I lead her into the next room and introduce her to Eira – careful not to reveal what Nuri is in front of Cale, although, honestly, I don’t think he’d care. He’s so overjoyed to be in her presence, he resembles a puppy that’s been left home alone for hours.

While Nuri whispers to Eira in the corner, Astin and I get to work talking to the captives. They’re still cautious, but they don’t cower away any more, and allow us to make a list of their ailments while I think of the best way to create a workaround for their various hexes.

How we can all help them. I’m not alone any more. I have Eira and Nuri – along with the coven she plans to introduce me to – and maybe, with enough light magic to go around, these people will spread the news that most witches aren’t awful. A select few have been corrupted over the years, yes, but isn’t that the case with humans too? Look at Damian.