Before I could reply, Shane burst into the room. ‘I don’t want to interrupt what sounds like a really unpleasant argument or anything, but Ned – the Foul Factory is on fire. I have to go.’ He stared at Jay. ‘And Ned and Cleo are coming with me, Jay, so you’ll have to go home. Captain’s orders.’

  ≈

  I stood to the side of the Unhallowed Ground, watching on as the Wayfarers and firefighters battled the flames at the Foul Factory. They might as well not have bothered. This was an Inferno spell – a fire that would rage on magically until it had burned the factory to the ground.

  Maybe Alison had set it up beforehand, in case things went wrong. Maybe someone else had set it up since then, to cover up something more. With a spell like this, we’d never find the evidence either way. Not a single scrap of proof would survive.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ said Cleo. ‘It reeks of overkill. Alison’s admitted to murdering Marlon and to being the Spellcaster. What more could she have to hide?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘I’m not sure I want to know. All I do know is that I smell something other than fire right now. I smell the earth, Cleo. You smell it too, right?’

  She gave me an uneasy glance. ‘Let’s not talk about the stupid vampire’s prophecy, Ned. She’s wrong, and that’s the end of it. Anyway, I don’t know if I ever told you this, but I really dislike vampires.’

  ‘You’ve told me this often. I only ask that you don’t say it out loud, to their faces. At least … not again.’

  ‘I’ll say it to Cassandra if she ever bothers you again. I’ll say it to Jay, too.’ She narrowed her lovely blue eyes. ‘I didn’t want to tell you, but when I went over there to make him phone for help, he and Cassandra weren’t talking about her prophecy. She was trying to kiss him. He pushed her away, but it was obvious he found it difficult to turn her down.’

  ‘Oh, Cleo, I’m already pretty convinced that he’s in love with her. There’s no need to rub it in.’

  ‘There’s every need.’ Her face was filled with seriousness. ‘Because the way he was looking at her is the way he should look at you. And because even though you know that, I’m still afraid that you’re going to do a Ned and take him back. That’s what you do. You’ve forgiven boyfriends for worse – many, many times. You deserve someone who loves you more than anyone in the world.’

  ‘Sure I do.’ I pasted on a smile and turned away from the flames. ‘Now come on. We’d better go and open up the shop.’

  ‘Well, yeah,’ she agreed, trotting beside me. ‘But first, you ought to change out of your pyjamas.’

  20. A Simple Removal of Love

  As it turned out, I was far too exhausted to work. Reluctantly, I let Fiona and another of the Cacklers take over for the day, while I tried to get some sleep. But my magic surged back to me as soon as I laid myself down upon my dumbly-shaped bed, so sleep was hard to find. I tossed and turned for about two hours before I threw off the covers and headed down to my dad’s old workroom.

  Cleo came with me, yawning and complaining, and insisting I bring a bed down there for her. As I set her up in a corner of the room, my eyes were locked upon the Book of Balance.

  Finally, when she started to snooze, I got things started by lighting the lantern and donning the hat. When I tapped the Wand of the Lost three times on page nine hundred, the entire section on memory spells was revealed. Although the very first one was the one I suspected I needed, I was far too terrified to read it. Instead, I studied the entire chapter.

  I lingered over the spell Angelica had used to make my memories of the artefacts, and my lessons with my dad, vanish from my mind. The solution she’d given me was the correct and only way to retrieve it all, which meant that there was no easy way out. I would have to go through the book, section by section, revealing it all. She’d used an incredibly complicated magic in order to achieve this – and she had done it while I was sleeping, by the looks of things, which was ever so creepy.

  If she were here, I would have throttled her. It wasn’t just a matter of reading through some incredibly long passages; it was the recollection of those lost moments with my dad which made things difficult. Years had passed since he died, but reliving our lessons together was making my grief come alive once more.

  Cleo lifted her head and gave me a disapproving stare. ‘You’ve read that entire section twice over now, Ned, except for one spell. Just get on with it.’

  I looked away from her. ‘You’ve been asleep the whole time we’ve been down here. How could you possibly know what I’ve been doing?’

  ‘Oh, I know,’ she assured me. ‘I know that you’re putting off the inevitable. What are you afraid of?’

  I slammed the book shut. ‘Look, I don’t know what I’m afraid of, all right?’ I admitted. ‘I just … everything is so complicated now. With Jay, with this new legacy I’m stuck with, with … with all of it. What if … what if …?’

  ‘What if what?’ Cleo asked softly. ‘Just read it, Ned. Turn to page nine hundred and read it.’

  ‘Or you’ll what? Keep nagging me until I do?’

  She stretched out in her cat bed. ‘Well, that’s what you secretly want me to do, isn’t it? Make the decision for you?’

  I cleared my throat. ‘You’re a little smartarse, do you know that? I’m going to read it now.’

  I opened the book to page nine hundred once more, and this time, I finally read the words.

  ≈

  Simple Memory Spells

  The First: A Simple Removal of Love

  The Spell:

  Every now and then, a Spellcaster might encounter a particularly difficult Servant. Although all of the steps in the Servant Spell have been carried out correctly, the Servant continues to act up, seeking out their old life, returning to gaze at their lost family and friends. Necromancers have come to believe that the root cause of this problem is Love, in its many shapes and forms. Those Servants who had a true passion for their work, their art, their family, their spouse … they are the ones who prove the most difficult. If the Spellcaster wishes to bring the Servant back under true control, it is paramount that whatever is holding them to their past life must be eradicated from their mind.

  The spell is simple, and can in fact be used on those other than Servants. It has been used in times past on all kinds of supernaturals and humans. Both Spellcasters and the Balance have even been known to use this spell, and variations which will be found on the following pages, upon themselves, to push unwelcome memories from their minds.

  To use upon another: Go to this person when they are sleeping. Follow the instructions for entering the Fog. As the Door opens, and you can see the Fog, stay within the living world, but put one hand on the person’s heart, the other on their Third Eye, and say the following:

  Your True Love I do remove

  The Fog shall hide it all

  Your self, your mind, your heart and soul

  In Love, you did not fall

  Upon saying the above incantation, you must then name the particular memory you want banished to the Fog (if it is a person, name them; if it is an act, a passion etc., then name it), and follow this by saying: To the Fog you are banished, until you are found.

  No more need be said. You will see the memory as it leaves, like a glowing light, zooming from the person’s heart, mind and soul, and journeying into the Fog.

  The Balance:

  As has been repeated many times throughout this book, nothing is ever truly lost, whether it be life, love, or memory. Love, in particular, has always been a tricky beast to slay.

  When an important memory has been sent to the Fog, it can be difficult for any but the Spellcaster or the Balance to retrieve (and remember – the Spellcaster can only retrieve what has been sent there by the Spellcaster, while the Balance may retrieve anything lost to the Fog).

  No matter who has sent the memory, the soul, or whatever it may be to the Fog, the process for retrieval can be hard when Servants are involved. In this case, you will have to …

  …

  Impatiently, I scanned through the counter-spell until I found the part pertaining to me. I glanced at Cleo, who had joined me at the worktable while I read. ‘That sounds easy. I just have to go back into the Fog and say this incantation and my memory will return to me. But …’

  ‘But what, oh difficult one?’

  ‘But … okay, let’s set aside the fact that we still don’t really understand what a Servant is, and it’s creeping us out. I just … I mean … this can’t be the spell Angelica used. Why would it be, when there are so many more memory spells in this book?’

  ‘Not if they’re a tricky or emotional connection,’ Cleo pointed out.

  ‘Yes, but …’

  ‘Ah. You’re still being a chicken, aren’t you? You’re afraid that when you find this memory, it’ll be soppy and romantic.’

  ‘No. No, I’m not afraid of that. I mean, I’d know if I loved Shane. I would have felt it again, when I saw him.’

  ‘You seemed to feel something for him when you were hovering outside our flat in the wee hours of the morning, asking him if he wanted to do it.’ She gave me a mischievous smile.

  With my face flaming, I said, ‘You are mistaken, young kitty cat. I didn’t ask him to do it. Not it it. We were just going to come down here together and retrieve my memories of him.’

  ‘Mm hm. Sounds like an intimate invitation to me. You know, we are bonded, Ned. Which means that when your legs are hollow and your pulse is racing, I tend to be aware.’

  ‘There was nothing to be aware of,’ I insisted. ‘Your senses were addled by bacon grease.’

  ‘Were they?’ Her expression was no longer a mischievous one. ‘Because to me, you and Shane looked at each other in the sort of way I’d expect from people who are in love. The way he looked at you is the way Jay should look at you. And the way you looked at him isn’t all that dissimilar.’

  For a moment, I held my head in my hands, trying to hide my emotions from her – a pointless attempt, seeing as she could feel what I felt, anyway. If she was right – and I’m not saying she was – what did that say about me? Jay and I had only just ended things, and already I was thinking of leaping into something new?

  ‘You’re wrong,’ I told Cleo, still refusing to meet her eyes. ‘It’s a rebound thing, that’s all. He’s just had a break-up and so have I. It’s natural to feel stupid and shallow feelings after a break-up. Anyway, you can’t … you can’t really remove love. It’s ridiculous. No, what happened was that Angelica just did it this way because … because … Oh, look, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m going to do the counter-spell.’

  ≈

  I shivered on the edge of the freezing, misty limbo, staying close to the Door. With a tremble in my voice, I said:

  ‘I seek thee out, forgotten Love

  From the Fog I call you home

  Memories of our moments lost

  Shall now return, all whole.’

  I could see the light immediately, as it whizzed towards me. It was bigger and brighter than I’d expected, and it seemed incredibly enthusiastic, too. For a moment I considered sidestepping it, or running away, or batting at it with my lantern or my wand. Not because I was afraid of love, you understand. It couldn’t have been love. Certainly not Love with a capital L. Ten years ago, I’d barely known him. Love didn’t just arrive all of a sudden, crash bang wallop, like a bad virus. Love arrived slowly, and unsurely, and required compromises, betrayals, and uncertainty.

  Right?

  I was not in love with Shane Moore. Not now, and not then.

  I stood up straight, shoulders back, and faced that enormous golden ball of memory as it swirled around my head and entered through my ear. It was itchy, at first, and uncomfortable. There was a slight headache, a sick feeling in my stomach, a racing of my heart …

  ‘Ned!’ I could hear Cleo’s voice on the other side of the Door.

  I staggered out of the Fog and back into the basement room, where I fell to my knees and remembered it all.

  21. When We Collided

  My first day of my Channelling course had been far from fun. I’d met one wizard friend, Hamish Rhodes, who was obsessed with robotics. Barely anyone else would even speak to me. The wizards at Wentforth’s College were suspicious of the few witches in their midst, but mostly of me. Because everyone knew who I was: Nedina Marvin, the necromancer’s daughter; Nedina Marvin, who would one day be a necromancer too.

  Or maybe that wasn’t the only reason. Unlike most of the other witches, who had come here to learn Channelling because they had very little power of their own, I had plenty of innate magic to draw upon. As I walked into class on that first day, I heard two wizards whispering.

  ‘Talk about greedy,’ said the first, glaring in my direction.

  ‘You said it,’ the other agreed. ‘All that power, and she still wants more.’

  I wished I were braver. If I were, I would tell them that I wasn’t being greedy. I admired wizardry, I always had. I wanted to learn how to channel so I could take my ideas for healing wands and make those wands for wizards, too.

  But I wasn’t brave, so I didn’t say a thing. I just sat through my class and then rushed outside to fly home.

  It was a treat to be on a broom at this time of year, flying high and looking down at the trees, in the reds, golds, oranges and browns of autumn. I liked to look at the lights turn on in people’s homes, too, and the smoke curling from chimneys as they lit fires to stave off the chill.

  It soon became clear that I wouldn’t enjoy such a view this evening, because as soon as I kicked off the ground and began to rise, a thick mist rushed in and obscured the ground below. I pointed to the front and back end of my broom, wiggling my finger and saying, ‘Solas,’ to create light spells which would make my broom visible to any other brooms in the air.

  I’d just done so when another broom crashed into mine. It was only when she got closer that I could see her properly: a dark-haired girl, flying a wizard broom at hyper-speed.

  The force of her coming at such speed sent my broom spinning and – maybe because of the shock – my bond with my broom began to fail, knocking me right off it and sending me plummeting to the ground below. She screamed out, ‘I’m so sorry!’ but she didn’t stop. In less than a second, the fog had stolen her from my view.

  For a moment, I was too shocked to react – I never lost my bond with my broom, not in the worst of storms, not even when I was a beginner. While I was enduring the most frightening freefall of my life, my broom floated a few feet above me, making its journey to the ground in a slower but far more graceful manner than I.

  ‘Think Ned, think,’ I muttered.

  Clicking my fingers wouldn’t help – not unless I could teleport myself to a building of the precise height I was at, otherwise I would still arrive up in the air. It would have to be somewhere which would offer me a soft landing – the sea, a bale of hay, a pile of wild marshmallows …

  ‘Think Ned, think!’ I didn’t mutter the words this time; I screamed them, desperately trying to think of the safest coordinates to teleport to, but fear had made my brain just as mushy as that longed-for marshmallow pile.

  ‘A summoning spell!’ I shouted. Then, frantically pointing my finger at my broom, I cried, ‘Anseo!’

  The broom obeyed the spell, zooming into my hands. Just as I was about to hoist myself on board and bond myself to it once more, I was knocked off course for the second time.

  This time, I couldn’t blame the broom rider. I’d forgotten to redo my lighting spell after the first collision, while the newcomer had full-beam headlights on, cutting through the fog. But the rider’s safety-consciousness didn’t help me much in that moment, and I fell from the broom yet again.

  Just as I was definitely about to think of the ideal solution and save myself in a brave and timely fashion, a man’s hand grasped mine. It was strong and sure as it hoisted me up onto the broom.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite as assured – in fact, I was downright clumsy and ridiculous, my body flailing this way and that as he did his best to save me.

  Thanks in no way to me, he soon managed to wrap his arms around me, pulling me up with such a force that his broom began to spin and spin in the air. His body fell back against the shaft for a moment, my weight bearing upon him as the broom continued to spin.

  I should have been dizzy and frightened. Instead, I felt delirious, giddy and warm and absolutely safe. After a few seconds, he steadied the broom and our air dance came to an end.

  As my head cleared, I realised where I was sitting – face-to-face with my saviour, our bodies still entwined. He had black hair and ice-blue eyes. Hadn’t I seen him in class?

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, moving his arms from around my body. ‘This is … kind of an awkward way to meet. I did attempt to pull you up behind me, but …’

  ‘But it was like lifting the most unwieldy bag of spuds you’d ever encountered? Yeah, my fault. I guess this is a bit close for comfort. But thanks for, you know, saving my life and stuff.’

  The whole time I spoke, I remained exactly where I was, face-to-face with this stranger on the shaft of his broom. He didn’t move either. His broom hovered in the air, while the two of us sat there surrounded by the thick, thick fog.

  There was a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, and an even stranger one somewhere in my chest. I felt as though I was holding my breath. I felt as if the entire world was holding its breath, waiting for … I didn’t know what.

  He cleared his throat and, with flaming cheeks, said, ‘You’re welcome. I can go search for your broom now, if you like. We might be able to head it off before it reaches the ground, stop it getting damaged.’