She’s all brute force and ’90s clichés.
I’ve seen her weave spells like a master on the goats and the grounds. But in battle, Ebb’s a cannon at a sword fight. No wonder Simon follows her around like a lost kid.
I’d thought about making her redundant over the years—what does Watford need with goats?—but she’s powerful, and she protects the school when I’m away.
I wouldn’t sacrifice her today if the fate of our world didn’t hang in the balance.
EBB
I’m out of practice.
I was never in practice, with spells like this. I know ten spells to turn water into whisky, and I can bring the goats in with a turn of phrase. But I never saw the point of all this.
Even when Nico and me would get in a dust-up, I’d usually settle him with Don’t worry, be happy or Hush little baby.
My only chance now is to overpower Davy.
I throw, “Head over heels!” and “Hit the floor!”—spells I learned in pub brawls. The Mage does something I’ve never seen before—obeying the spells instead of letting them hit him.
He looks like a madman. His shirt is torn open, and he’s covered in muck. Who knows what dark magic he’s about—he still hasn’t said what he wants from me. We’re circling each other like two wolves.
“You’re no match for me, Ebb,” he says, then shouts, “Resistance is futile!”
I absorb the spell. I can do that sometimes, let a spell burn out in my magic. “Bend over backwards!” I shout back desperately, when I’m able.
The Mage swings back into the ground like he’s made of rubber—then picks himself up, sighing.
THE MAGE
She caught me by surprise with that one, and my head is ringing. “I’m sorry, Ebb. But I don’t have time for this. I need your power—the World of Mages needs your power.”
“I’m not a fighter,” she says.
“I know. But I am.” I step closer. “Make this sacrifice for your people.”
“What do you want from me, Davy?” She’s scared. I’m sorry for that. A hank of blond hair covers one of her eyes.
“Your power. I need your power.”
“I’ll give it to you. I don’t want it.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” I say. “I have to take it.”
She steels her jaw, holding her shepherd’s staff between us. “Helter skelter!” she screams—and the room goes mad.
Floorboards peel up and whirl about us like ticker tape. Every ancient window shatters.
It’s a child’s spell. A tantrum. For upsetting board games and scattering marbles.
The power in this woman …
Wasted.
I stumble forward through the chaos and sink my blade in her chest.
EBB
I decide the Mage must be right, even though he talks like a madman.
I decide this is for the best. This is for a reason.
I hope that someone remembers to bring the nannies home.
82
SIMON
As I reach the door to the White Chapel, every window explodes. It sounds like the world is ending, and it’s made of glass.
I hope I’m not too late.…
To stop whatever needs to be stopped.
To help whoever needs to be helped.
I run into the Chapel, behind the pulpit. Then I think about the Mage, and find my way to a room at the back, with a trapdoor hanging open in the ceiling. I flutter my wings—I still have wings—and catch the edge of the opening, hauling myself up.
It’s a round room, ruined now, and the Mage is kneeling in the centre, his eyes closed and his shoulders heaving. There’s someone lying on the ground below him—and for a breath, I think it might be Baz. But Baz went to the numpties; I know he did.
Whoever it is on the floor, it means it’s all started.
I clear my throat and rest my hand on my hip. The blade appears without the incantation. It’s like the whole world is just reacting to me. I don’t even have to think.
I don’t have to think.