Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

chapter one: glow in the dark

Maybe things would have been different if the bus hadn’t broken down. Maybe Charlie would have made it home in time to die, too.

As it was, when his final ride home from school before the summer holidays was interrupted by a sudden jolt, a crowd of over-dramatically screaming teenagers and an emergency disembarkment, Charlie did what he always did whenever anything happened. He called his dad.

Julio picked up at once. “I hope you’re ready for an excess of pasta because that is what your loving father has made.”

“Again, dad?”

“Now look here, I’ve been toiling away for the likes of you.” Julio chuckled to himself. “How long are you going to be?”

Charlie watched the bus driver shout down the phone to the mechanic, red in the face, hair standing at angles from all the times he’d tugged at it. “Um, well, the bus broke down. I think I’m gonna walk it.”

“I can come and pick you up if you like. Where are you?”

“I’m at the top of the hill. Don’t worry, dad, I can walk. I’ll be, like, half an hour.”

“Are you sure? I can come and—”

A sudden crackling down the line cut his dad off. Charlie held his phone away from his ear, cringing at the jarring sound. “Dad?” He looked down at his phone screen. The call had disconnected. With a shrug, he pocketed the phone and set off for home.

Julio set his phone aside and returned to the mountain of pasta boiling over on the stove. 

All things considered, he’d done a good job, he thought, of raising his son. Of giving him the best childhood he could hope to have provided. Even when the world—the normal, mundane world—proved unkind, sometimes relentlessly so, he and Charlie had muddled through. His son was bright, headed for Oxbridge, Julio liked to remind anyone who would listen. His son was resilient and hardworking and gentle and kind and all the things he could never have said about himself at age sixteen.

Sixteen-year-old Julio had been a mess.

Sometimes he wondered how much mess he was being protected from now. He caught glimpses of it when Charlie thought he wasn’t looking—in the second before he looked up from his phone, in the quiet midnight footsteps down the hall, in the constantly tired eyes smiling back at him from across the breakfast table.

He turned the pasta down to a simmer and was just considering heating the plates up in the oven for a spell when a rush of water erupted from the kitchen sink.

“What the—?”

Hands outstretched, Julio approached the taps and turned them both this way and that. Water continued to spray. But where was it coming from? It was as if the mixer tap had sprung leaks from everywhere all at once. He grabbed a tea towel and tried to ebb the flow, merely soaking himself in the process. He was just trying to remember how to turn the water off at the mains when a flash of light from the stove made him whirl around.

The pot of pasta had gone up in flames.

“Shit!”

Julio scrambled for the stove, turned the ring down and watched the flames lower before going out.

He stepped back and took a breath.

Right. Good.

Looked like it was going to be a takeaway tonight after all.

He shook off his sodden sleeves and was about to turn back to the sink when the stove top erupted into flames once again. This time, each one of the four hob rings was suddenly its own small pillar of fire.

Julio stared.

He reached for the off switch—he’d thought he’d turned it off—but the second he moved closer, the flames burst forth from their rings and spread up onto the wall behind the stove. Before his wide, stinging eyes, the fire leapt around the corner, over the counters until almost everywhere Julio looked—fire.

He flung a wet sleeve over his mouth and nose and turned to the door. Luckily, it was clear of flames. He took a step and slipped. His head struck the tiles and he landed with a thud on the water-strewn floor. Pain flared across his skull as he blinked the stars from his eyes and tried to take some deep breaths.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t see anything through his streaming eyes other than smoke and flames.

Charlie, said a voice in his head. Get to Charlie.

Slowly, Julio turned his head to the right, towards where he knew the front door lay. It was only a short dash, he knew. It was an even shorter one to the back door, though that had been completely cut off. He could make it through the front, though. He had to. For his son.

Julio reached out one shaking hand, grappling for purchase on the slippery floor and began to crawl, head spinning, across to the doorway.

It happened in a blink. One moment, he could see the shoe rack by the front door, and then he couldn’t—because the flames had completed their circle. And he was trapped.

Keep low, he told himself.

But his cheek was already pressed to the floor. His phone—it was on the counter, wasn’t it? Could he reach it?

The thoughts came and went almost as quickly as his breaths.

He only vaguely registered the tremendous crash that was each of the windows bursting outwards, shattering in the heat.

On the pavement outside, a woman in an elegant black coat pocketed a single, unlit match.

She was gone before the first fire engine siren reached Charlie Spring’s ears.

✨

His grandmother lived in Kent, so that was where he was going. There was no one else left now. The train was packed with commuters. Charlie watched them slowly come and go the closer they got to London. Once he’d changed trains, he was thankful for the peace as the crowds thinned. 

Kathleen was waiting for him when he arrived at the Truham station, a hand worrying at her necklace. She gave him a sad smile and folded him into her arms. She was more than a head shorter than he was but he clung to her, let her hold him up for a few moments. There had been no hugs on offer over the last month. The foster family he’d had to stay with had been nice enough, and he was sure they would have hugged him if he’d let them—but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to speak to them, let alone build any sort of relationship.

“Can I carry anything for you?” Kathleen asked as they headed for the exit.

Charlie hefted his small case. Most of his possessions had been destroyed in the fire. “I’ll be fine, thanks.”

Seeming to sense he wasn’t up to talking much, Kathleen remained quiet as they made their way to her car and climbed inside. For as long as he could remember, his grandmother had come to visit them in Lincoln twice a year, though he had never been to her house. Never even been to Kent. 

The house on Britannia Road was bigger than he’d expected. It wasn’t until Kathleen had closed the front door behind them that he realised, from the photographs dotted along the walls, that this must have been his dad’s childhood home. With only the two of them standing in the hallway, it seemed empty. How had it felt before, when it had just been Kathleen?

Charlie shrugged off his coat and let Kathleen hang it up for him. There was plenty of space for his shoes, too.

“Would you like to see your room?” The lines around her eyes crinkled as she gave him another of her sad smiles.

Charlie blinked. He’d been spacing out a lot lately. Sometimes he wondered whether his brain had slowed down a lot of the stuff he used to worry about. He nodded and followed his grandmother up the stairs.

“Here we are,” she said, holding the door at the very end of the hall open for him. “It used to be your dad’s room. I should have cleared it out by now, it has been sixteen years. I could just never bring myself to do it. I hope it’s okay. We can change whatever you like.”

“No,” said Charlie. “Don’t change it. It’s great. Thank you.”

The room was larger than his old one had been and considerably tidier. He had never had a double bed before, nor a fireplace in his bedroom. And despite the years that had passed, he could still sense his dad in the walls, in the fabric of the bedspread, in the ‘90s band posters. But most of all, in the books lining the mantelpiece, their spines well worn, their pages thumbed. 

Charlie tore his eyes away from a neatly stacked collection of records on one shelf to find Kathleen watching him closely. It was strange. He was not, in fact, the only person in mourning for Julio Spring. His grandmother had lost a son. Parents were supposed to die before their sons, not the other way around. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

He ran a hand over the woollen grey throw folded at the foot of the bed. “How come we never came to visit you? Dad always made some excuse not to and I never understood it.”

Kathleen sighed. “I think for him, being here in Truham was just too painful. After your mum had her accident he wanted a fresh start—for the both of you. Everything here, it only reminded him of her.”

“Yeah,” said Charlie. “That’s pretty much all he told me, too.”

“Well, I’ll let you get settled in,” said Kathleen. “Heaven knows you must be exhausted from all that travelling. I’ll give you a shout when dinner’s ready.”

He thanked her and she left with a final sad smile. Charlie set his case down on the chair by the window and sank onto the edge of the bed. 

It felt very odd, being there. How old had Julio been the last time he’d slept in this bed? Charlie knew he and his mum had been young when they’d had him, that they had not been married. They hadn’t even been living together. 

And suddenly, surrounded by his dad’s things, Charlie realised something he’d been afraid of more and more over the last month. While the room felt cosy, it didn’t feel like his . It felt like it belonged to another young man, one whom he felt close to but somehow hardly knew at all. He had respected his dad’s privacy when he’d been alive but now he wished he’d asked more questions, encouraged him to dig a little deeper—if only so that Charlie could understand more of where he’d come from. More of what made him him.

His grandmother had always been an excellent cook, a fact Charlie had forgotten until he sat down in her dining room, stomach rumbling. She had always insisted on cooking for them when he’d visited them in Lincoln. Somehow her abilities had never crossed over to Julio.

As they ate, Kathleen chattered calmly about her job as a nurse at the Medway Maritime Hospital. It kept her busy and from the way she spoke, he could tell she loved her job. It did mean she would be away from the house for uneven amounts of time, but Charlie didn’t mind. He was thankful in a way, for the peace and the quiet and the grace.

After dinner, he excused himself to bed early. He showered quickly, then made his way back to his new room, towel around his waist. Regretting not taking his pyjamas into the bathroom with him, he reached to shut the curtains—and stopped dead.

A boy was staring at him. From across the space between his grandmother’s house and the one next to it, Charlie stared right back. And watched the boy’s cheeks flush red. But the boy couldn’t seem to look away. Charlie grasped the curtains and yanked them closed.

Oh god . He screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He gave his head a little shake, then reached for his pyjamas. 

As he dressed, he wondered whether he should try to befriend the boy next door. And how that might go after that shitshow of a first interaction. But Charlie wasn’t even sure he had the capacity to make friends again. What would be the point? They’d only leave him, one way or another. That’s what people did. They made Charlie love them and then they left.

He draped his towel over the radiator and turned to scrutinise his appearance in the mirror. 

He blinked. 

Stared. 

Spun around.

He hadn’t been imagining things. The curtains were indeed open again.

Something uneasy curdled in his stomach as he continued to stare across at the window opposite. Thankfully, the boy had gone, but… hadn’t Charlie just closed the curtains not a minute ago?

He really was very tired.

But maybe he was losing it.

Either way, there was nothing he could do about it now. He yanked the curtains closed once again and turned determinedly away from them, reaching for the duvet. 

He was just climbing into bed when there was a soft knock on the door and Kathleen poked her head in. “Your dad used to hum that tune all the time.”

He hadn’t even realised he’d been humming. “Oh. Yeah. Well, I stole it from him.”

His grandmother smiled. “Are you ready for school tomorrow?”

Charlie grimaced. He’d been trying not to think about it. “I’ll be okay.”

“Mmhm… If you can’t sleep, your dad used to count the stars. Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

It wasn’t until Kathleen had left and Charlie had settled down to sleep that he realised exactly what she meant. He lay on his back, looked up at the ceiling and saw that it was covered in glow in the dark stars.

In the morning, Kathleen drove Charlie across town to the gates of his new school: Truham Grammar. Luckily his new uniform had arrived yesterday, just in time. Under better circumstances, Charlie would have had something to say about still being made to wear a uniform now he was a Sixth Former. Back in Lincoln he had been ready to begin life as a Year 12 in smart-casual, but his own clothes.

Today however, Charlie only scrutinised his own reflection in the car door for a few seconds before assuring his grandmother he would be fine and striding, with as much confidence as he could muster, through the open gates. As he crossed the front yard, he kept his head down, his hands in his coat pockets. None of the scattered students around him paid him any mind whatsoever. Odd, Charlie thought. He supposed none of them had any reason to bully him quite yet.

It was only a matter of time.

No. He had promised himself that the minimal progress he’d made on accepting himself back home in Lincoln would not be undone by something as inconsequential as starting a new school. People might whisper, people might stare, people would undoubtedly be hurling slurs in his general direction by the end of the week—but Charlie could deal with that. Nothing was going to stop him from being completely, one hundred percent himself.

He stepped into reception. A broad-shouldered man was leaning against the desk, chatting away happily to the receptionist. At the sound of the door opening, he turned to Charlie with a bright smile reflected in his deep brown eyes. “Charlie Spring? Welcome to Truham Grammar.” Charlie shook the man’s offered hand. “I’m the head teacher, Mr Argent. Here is your new planner and timetable.”

Charlie took the planner and scanned the timetable.

“Everything in order?”

Classical Civilisations, Music, English Literature, Latin.

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent, excellent.” Mr Argent studied Charlie’s face, eyebrows knitted. At Charlie’s questioning look, his features softened again. “Forgive me. Only… I knew your dad. Quite well, actually. Back when we were both students here ourselves.”

“Oh. You did?”

“Julio was a very special friend to me. Though I doubt he mentioned me much.”

“No, I don’t think he did. He never talked about his life here much at all.”

The head teacher grimaced but nodded. “Yes, well, I was very sorry to hear the news of his passing. He was a good man, your dad. It’s a shame. A horrible, horrible shame.”

“Yes, well…” Charlie’s throat stuck. “Th-thank you.”

“If there’s anything I can ever do for you, Charlie, to help ease your transition, then let me know, alright?”

Charlie managed a weak smile. “Alright.”

“Now—” Mr Argent clapped his hands cheerfully. “A tour! Shall we?”

Feeling as though he couldn’t refuse, Charlie followed along diligently as Mr Argent gave him a very whistle-stop tour of the school. The man seemed friendly and genuine, but Charlie grew weary of company five minutes in. Not Mr Argent’s company necessarily, just company in general felt stifling to him nowadays. He wanted to go home, curl up in his bed and sleep. Instead, when the tour was done, having missed form (that would be tomorrow’s annoyance), he headed towards his first lesson.

✨

Nick Nelson had woken up that morning to find every single possession in his bedroom floating an inch away from the ceiling. He had lain there in his bed for several long moments, just watching his things hang there, suspended. To start with, he’d been afraid everything would all come crashing back down around him, like things so often did. But finally, when the courage found him, he sat up slowly, carefully, and as he did so, each object glided down gently, back into place.

That didn’t usually happen.

The floating objects, definitely. But the control?

Usually, Nick created messes, minor injuries and generally made his own life a little harder. Never before had he made more than one thing float at the same time, either. And he’d managed it while he’d been asleep. As he ate his breakfast and readied himself for school, he realised that when the items had floated back down again it had felt… different. Satisfying.

Perhaps this was what Tara’s grimoire meant about their coven missing an eighth member. They knew Kathleen Spring’s grandson was due to arrive in Truham any day now, and from this change in his magic, Nick felt for certain the boy must have already arrived.

All morning, he kept an eye open for any new faces among the crowd of Truham students thronging the corridors. Maybe someone who looked a little like Kathleen Spring. Except Kathleen Spring was an old woman whom Nick had only met a handful of times. He knew nothing about her grandson, not even his name.

At break, Nick spotted James by his locker and had to ask, “He’s here, isn’t he?”

James continued to pile books into his bag. “He got here yesterday afternoon.” 

“And…?”

“Um… well, er—” James shut his locker. “He’s very, um…”

Nick rolled his eyes. His cousin was renowned for catching crushes on any boy who happened to glance his way. “For god’s sake, James.” Nick glanced up and down the bustling corridor and lowered his voice. “Does he have, you know? Magic?”

“I don’t know,” said James, cheeks still rosy. “I only saw him for like two seconds. And he wasn’t… he wasn’t wearing many clothes.”

Nick spent the rest of break wandering the school, looking for any sign of the mysterious new boy. He wasn’t sure what they would do if their highly anticipated new coven member turned out to be some dude-bro arsehole. Now that he thought about it, what if he turned out to be homophobic or transphobic or generally a massive twat? What then? But it wasn’t until lunch time when he’d finally given up looking that he finally saw him.

And when he did, Nick stopped in his tracks. Somehow he knew— There he is.

He was tall, though not taller than Nick. His hair was dark and curly, his head ducked low over his planner map. Nick watched from afar as the boy looked around for his new locker. With the movement, Nick saw the boy’s dimpled cheeks, his sharp jawline, his blue, blue eyes.

Nick swallowed. Maybe he shouldn’t have judged James so harshly. This boy was gorgeous, even with all his clothes on.

And then the boy looked up and, across the corridor, their eyes met.

Nick’s heart stopped.

But then the boy frowned, shifted on the spot, uncomfortable. And Nick suddenly arrived back in his body and realised just how creepy he was being, standing there, staring at a stranger. Nick blinked and hurried away.

James may have had a point.

✨

Strawberry blond hair and freckles for days, his blazer tossed over one arm, the boy Charlie caught staring at him from down the corridor may just be the cutest boy he’d ever seen. For several moments, Charlie didn’t know what to do with himself. Or maybe he knew exactly what to do with himself for the first time in his life. At least what he wanted to do—which was to cross the corridor and talk to him. To ask his name, his home address, his life story.

Instead of doing any of those things, Charlie shook those mental images aside and turned to his new locker. He inserted the little silver key and tried to turn it. He jiggled it. “Fuck.” He pulled the key out and tried again, but the stupid thing still wouldn’t open. He was just cursing the fact that he might have to go all the way back to the office to request a new one when two boys approached him.

“You’re the new boy, right?” said the boy on the left. He was tall and lanky, a blue beanie covering his dark hair. Charlie was surprised it hadn’t been confiscated yet.

“Hey,” said the other boy, tucking a book under his arm. “I’m Isaac, this is Tao.”

Tao gave an awkward little salute.

All Charlie could do was blink stupidly at the pair of them. Why were they talking to him?

“I’m Charlie,” he managed.

“Are you struggling with your locker?” asked Tao.

“They can be a bit tricky,” said Isaac. “They get stuck all the time.”

“I really don’t want to have to go all the way back to the office.”

Tao and Isaac exchanged an almost imperceptible glance. Then, a smirk appeared across Tao’s face. “Why don’t you give it another try?”

With a huff, Charlie twisted the little key in the lock. And this time— click —it turned and his locker fell open. “Huh.”

“Sometimes you have to really get it at the right angle.”

As Charlie began to pile his books inside, there was something in Tao’s face and in the withering look Isaac shot him that made Charlie wonder if he’d missed something. He probably had, he realised. Some inside joke that only made sense if you had been long-time friends with people. The only person he’d ever had an inside joke with was his dad.

“Want to sit with us for lunch?” asked Isaac. “We can show you the Sixth Form common room—that’s usually where we eat.”

“Yeah, okay, thanks.”

And then he was following Tao and Isaac through the school, into the common room, utterly baffled that two nice seeming people were so willing to befriend him. And he hadn’t even had to try.

He spent a lovely lunch time learning more about his two new friends. It turned out Tao was obsessed with cinema, really wanted to love his A-Level Drama class but hated his teacher, had a girlfriend named Elle and a cat named Bean. Meanwhile, Isaac loved books. This became evident quickly when he spent the entire fifty minutes managing to eat his lunch and keep up with the conversation while reading a copy of The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater.

Charlie liked films, books and cats, but he hadn’t met enough of his teachers yet to give reviews. When Tao had judged Charlie’s timetable and given his opinions on each of the listed teachers, the bell rang and Charlie went back to lessons still confused as to how that had happened. How did he have two new numbers in his phone and two new Instagram followers already?

He would have been quite delighted with just Tao and Isaac by the end of his first day, but then, as he was crossing the front yard towards the bus stop, someone called his name.

“Charlie Spring!”

Two people were hurrying through the crowded pavement, hand in hand, both in a uniform he didn’t recognise. He assumed they went to Higgs, the sister school to Truham Grammar, whose campus was just across the road.

“Hi,” he said. “Um, how do you know my name?”

“Oh, we know your grandma. She and my mum are friends.”

“Right.”

“I’m Tara, this is Darcy.”

“Her girlfriend,” Darcy insisted before Charlie could so much as open his mouth. “So if you have a problem with that, you’d better tell us now or—”

“Darcy…”

Charlie let out a laugh. “No,” he said. “No problems at all. Another homosexual at your service.”

Darcy’s mouth fell open with glee and they clutched at their cheeks. “Oh my god! I can’t believe it. We found another one!” They clung to Charlie’s arm and shook it in their excitement. “I was so worried you’d be straight!”

Tara shook her head in fond exasperation and gave Charlie a look which read sorry about them. “Anyway,” she said. “Are you doing anything after school today?”

“Not really,” said Charlie as Darcy finally let go of his arm. “I’m not even sure what there is to do around here.”

“Oh, not a lot, really,” said Tara. “But there is this nice little cafe in town we like to go to. We were wondering if you’d like to come along and meet us there in, like, an hour?”

“We can give you the grand tour of Truham!”

What was going on today? If it had been this easy for him to make friends at his old school, maybe he wouldn’t have been so sad and lonely all the time. He grinned. “Okay. I’ll have to ask my gran, but I’d love to come, thanks.”

By the time he made it home he had a grand total of four new Instagram followers and so, feeling undeniably lucky, Charlie changed, made a start on his homework, then set out, with Kathleen’s permission, into town. 

He found Nellie’s Tea Room easily enough with the directions Tara had messaged him. The facade was painted a pale blue, the lettering cute and elegant, painted flowers and leaves adorning the doorway. 

A bell tinkled as he stepped inside, and he found the inside much larger than he’d expected. The seating area went back quite a way and there was a sign for upstairs seating too. A couple of squashy sofas sat occupied in one corner beside a mini library. The counter was full of beautifully decorated handmade baked goods, the aroma of coffee and tea mixed with sugar and bread made his stomach gurgle appreciatively.

At the sound of the bell, a woman stood up from where she’d been serving some customers their food, and caught sight of Charlie standing there. She stopped and stared, as if his mere appearance had struck her completely. Charlie could only stare back, faintly alarmed, before the woman seemed to shake herself from her shock. She lowered her tray and smiled cheerfully. “You must be Julio’s son. It’s lovely to meet you, dear. I’m Sarah.”

He shook her offered hand. “Charlie. Is this your cafe?”

“Yep. Been here nearly five years now.”

“It’s very nice.”

“Thank you, dear. You are too sweet.” Her brown eyes drew distant and her hand went to worry at the small pendant on a chain around her neck. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Charlie. I really am. When I heard what had happened. It was such a shock. I suppose you never know when these things will happen, but it does always seem to be the best of us that go too soon.” 

Sarah blinked several times very fast, then moved around the counter, reached for the flat take away boxes and began to fold them.

Charlie drifted after her as casually as he could. “Did—did you know my dad, too? Everyone here seems to know him and my gran.”

“Oh, yes, he was well known, and well liked. People adored him, and rightfully so, in my opinion.”

A smile flickered at the corner of Charlie’s mouth and he let it grow. The way Sarah spoke about Julio… It didn’t matter so much that she gave no real concrete information, it made Charlie’s insides all warm and fuzzy to hear the things he already knew to be true so confirmed. That his dad had been a good person, likeable and memorable. 

A sudden wave of something warm and cosy washed over him, and Charlie realised that, for the first time in quite awhile, he felt calm. Relaxed.

“There you are, Nicky. That should be all the pain au chocolat for the next—” Sarah sarcastically checked her watch. “Hour, at least.”

The door behind the counter had opened and a boy with strawberry blond hair and freckles entered, a tray of freshly baked pastries in his hands. “It’s grandpa’s old recipe,” he said, setting the tray in the display case. “Of course they’re our best-seller—ouch, fu— I mean… flip.” The boy gasped as he caught his fingers in the sliding display case door. He had caught sight of Charlie standing there and gotten distracted. 

Probably, Charlie realised, because he was openly staring at him. Again.

“You work here?” Charlie blurted out.

“Yes, thanks, how are you?” The boy’s cheeks flared bright red as he clutched at his sore fingers.

Charlie couldn’t help but giggle. “Hi.”

The boy let his hands drop to his sides and smiled sheepishly. “Hi.”

That blanket of warmth which had enveloped Charlie settled and he let out a breath. There was a dusting of flour across the boy’s forehead. The pale blue of his apron contrasted his otherwise laddish exterior flawlessly.

A somewhat high-pitched squeak drew Charlie’s attention from the adorable boy behind the counter to the woman standing nearby, clutching her empty tray in barely-contained excitement.

“Mum? What is it? What’s going on?”

Sarah batted the air with her hand. “Nothing, nothing.” But the knowing smile on her face seemed to only make the boy—her son—even more flustered.

“ Mum ,” he groaned. “Why are you acting so weird?”

“I’m not, Nicky. It’s just…” She cupped her hand around her mouth and stage-whispered in her son’s ear. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”

As Sarah sauntered away, Charlie was certain his eyes had gone as wide as saucers. The other boy’s had done the same and his ears had gone as red as his cheeks. The kitchen door swung shut behind Sarah and the boy cleared his throat. “Wow. I’m so sorry about her.”

“Don’t apologise,” said Charlie. “She did just call me cute.”

“You are cute. Um… I—I mean…”

“I’m Charlie.”

Their eyes met. And got stuck.

The boy let out a breath, some of the nervous energy in his shoulders leaving with it. “Nick.”

“Hi.”

“Hi. Um, w-what can I get you?” Nick tapped the till into life. 

Charlie stood there, blinking. He hadn’t even looked at the menu. “Err… A tea? I suppose.”

“Are you sure? The pain au chocolat are fresh.”

Charlie glanced at the display case. “Um…”

Nick’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to. Please don’t feel pressured to order anything you don’t want. I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s okay. I—I’ll have a tea and a pain au chocolat, thanks. See what all the fuss is about.”

While he waited, Charlie suddenly remembered he was meant to be meeting Tara and Darcy. He did a swift scan of the cafe. He couldn’t see them.

“You go to Truham, don’t you?” Nick asked as he squished the teabag with a spoon.

“Oh, yeah,” said Charlie. “I… I thought I saw you earlier.” I definitely don’t remember every nano-second I spent looking at you earlier.

Nick set the pastry onto a plate, head ducked low. “So, how was your first day?”

“It’s not over yet.”

“Well, let me know how it turns out.” 

Nick seemed to feel he’d said too much because he began to worry at the edge of his apron and a line had appeared between his eyebrows. 

But Charlie smiled. “I will. Thanks.” He lifted his cup of tea in a weird salute, then set off for a table by the window, cursing his own awkwardness. He sat down and was just picking up his pain au chocolat when he noticed the receipt tucked under his plate. £2.50 for the tea, and then… nothing.

Charlie stared across the room. Nick was busy with another customer, determinedly not looking in his direction. Charlie turned back to his pastry, shaking his head. The utter cheak. 

Just then, the chairs opposite him scraped back. Tara and Darcy had arrived. There was a clatter of other chairs and suddenly, the table was crowded with Tao and Isaac as well, plus a tall girl with glasses. 

“Elle, this is Charlie,” said Tao. “Charlie, this is my girlfriend Elle.”

Charlie was still recovering from the sudden onslaught of people. “Hey.”

“We’re so glad you’re here,” said Elle, smiling across at him. “And from what Tao said, you’re not an arsehole, which is nice.”

“Oh,” said Charlie. “Thanks, Tao.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You met Nick, then,” said Darcy, catching Charlie’s subconscious glance towards the counter. “What do you think?”

“Um… he seems nice.” He took a bite of the pastry. It was still warm, the chocolate centre gooey.

Darcy snorted. “You have to go for it, Charlie. I promise—he’s cute and bisexual and you’re completely his type.”

“Don’t meddle,” Tara scolded, but she was grinning too. 

Charlie chewed his mouthful of buttery, chocolatey pastry, smiling a little to himself. He let the others comfortable chatter wash over him. He could tell the five of them must have been friends for a while, each of them joking with each other, taking the piss and referencing many things Charlie didn’t understand. 

The group lapsed into quiet again, and as if she had just remembered he was there too, Elle turned to Charlie, full of soft concern. “I’m sorry to hear about your dad. Were the two of you close?”

Flakes of pastry were sticking to Charlie’s fingertips. He tried to rub them off with a napkin but his hands shook. All at once, the warm comfortable bubble he’d found inside Nellie’s Tea Room felt as if it had gotten a puncture. “Mmhm,” he murmured. He was grateful so many people were sympathetic but he did wish they would stop reminding him of his dead dad every two seconds.

“What about your mum?” asked Tao. 

The others looked down, awkward. Elle nudged Tao’s arm semi-discreetly.

“Don’t worry,” said Charlie. “It’s a fair question. She, um, died a little after I was born. My dad and I were really close, since it’s always been just the two of us.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve always gotten on well with my gran, though, so… it could have been worse, I suppose.”

“She doesn’t seem homophobic,” said Tara. “But you never know, especially with older people. My grandma doesn’t even know I’m a lesbian.”

Tara had a point, but Charlie could only grimace. He wanted to stop talking about this now. The pastry was sitting heavily in his stomach and he suddenly wished he could get up and go home. 

And not home to Britannia Road.

“Well,” said Tao. “Welcome to the dead dad club.”

“Yeah, all of us here are in it,” said Darcy. “Except Elle.”

Elle nodded. “Dead mum club, I’m afraid. You probably met my dad. He’s the head teacher of Truham.”

Charlie merely nodded. He thought maybe if he opened his mouth he’d be sick.

“Don’t let his smile fool you, though,” said Elle. “He can be a knob.”

“And scary,” said Tao. “When you’re dating his daughter.” He squeezed Elle closer to him, making her giggle as he kissed her cheek.

The cafe had almost cleared of other customers now and Nick was weaving between the tables in the opposite corner, gathering empty cups and plates. The queasiness in Charlie’s stomach settled a little bit as he watched him work, though the tightness in his chest persisted. He clamped his teeth over his bottom lip in an effort to quell his tears before he could embarrass himself completely.

“Darcy’s right, you know,” said Tara gently. “You really are his type.”

He looked back at her. She was only trying to cheer him up. He took a deep breath. “I’m just gonna find the loo.”

✨

The five of them watched Charlie Spring walk away towards the little hallway which led to the toilets of Nellie’s Tea Room. Even Isaac had set his book down.

“Do you think he knows?” Tara wondered aloud.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” said Darcy.

Elle shrugged. “He just seems sad.”

“It is sad,” said Tara. “None of us remember our dads. He had sixteen good years with him.”

“How long has it even been since he died? A month?” said Elle. “It’s still really fresh.”

Tao sprang to his feet. “I think he needs a nudge.” 

“What are you talking about? Tao, no, don’t—” 

Tara and Elle stared at each other, eyes wide. Elle tried to grab for her boyfriend’s sleeve but he was already gone, up from the table, after Charlie.

Darcy sighed and rolled their eyes. “Come on.” 

They pulled Tara after Tao, Elle and Isaac bringing up the rear. Tara couldn’t help but admit she was a little curious, too. Just how powerful was this new boy?

✨

He managed to hold in most of his tears before he shut the toilet door behind him. The room was small, only one cubicle with its own sink. He grabbed some loo roll and sat down. After trying for some steadying breaths, Charlie let the tears fall. 

All in all, he hadn’t let himself cry that much since it happened. Sometimes he felt strange, or even guilty, for not sobbing his heart out like every freshly bereaved person in every film or TV show he’d seen. But the hollowness was worse. The tears made him feel weak, but at least when they were done, he tended to feel better. His dad had always been the easily weepy one. Charlie supposed things changed.

A creak of the floorboards outside made Charlie look up. He gave a great sniffle. He couldn’t stay secluded in there forever. He threw some water over his face, then reached for the lock.

But it wouldn’t turn.

He tried to force it, but it was stuck. 

He tried the door handle, jiggled it up and down. Nothing. 

“Fuck.” 

He swiped a sleeve across his eyes and tried not to panic. But how humiliating, how stupid— of all the times to get himself locked in the toilet.

He dried his hand on his jeans, then tried the lock again, tried to turn it with all his might.

So hard the metal began to grow warm beneath his hand. 

Warmer, until it burned hot and Charlie gasped. 

He let go and stared down at his hand. A red welt had appeared there, harsh and shiny. 

“Ouch, fuck!” 

He shook his hand out and turned to the sink. But he never got far enough to turn the tap on. 

A fine mist began to roll in from… somewhere. Charlie stared around as the small room rapidly filled. Abandoning his burnt hand, he turned to the door again. His throat caught and he coughed.

Smoke. The room was filling with smoke.

A second later, flames burst along the back wall. Charlie jumped away as far as he could, his back colliding with the door. The heat was all at once, intense. He could barely see. His eyes burned, his throat burned. “Help!” he cried, through painful coughs. He twisted around to bang on the door. “Help! ”

Almost at once, there was a thump on the other side, and the handle moved. “Charlie?!”

Charlie meant to call back, but all that came out was a ragged cough. “Nick…”

Again, the door handle wiggled and there were several more thumps, as if Nick was trying to break down the door from outside. “Are you okay? Charlie? Are you in there?”

Charlie sucked in the deepest breath he could. “The door won’t open!” He shoved at it with all his might. His head spun. “Help…”

His knees threatened to buckle, but Charlie forced himself not to collapse, leaning heavily against the door.

“Charlie, it’s okay! I’m gonna get you out. Stay low, okay? Charlie, are you still with me?”

“I’m still… here…”

Charlie gulped down a lungful of air. Then another.

There was a metallic click, and suddenly, the door Charlie had been leaning all his weight on, opened. The momentum sent him tumbling out of the toilet, into Nick’s arms. 

Charlie’s chest contracted as he coughed and coughed, until he realised he could breathe. He blinked. His cheek was pressed against Nick’s broad shoulder. For the first time, the warm blanket was a physical sensation. He smelt faintly of flour and sugar and a little of sweaty boy. His arms were tight around him, and when he looked up into his face, his brown eyes were full of alarmed concern.

“Are you okay?” Nick gasped. “Thank god, I thought—”

But his voice fizzled out, because Charlie was no longer listening. He looked around at the room he’d just burst out of. There was no trace of smoke. No trace of fire. Not a singed loo roll in sight.

Nick finally let him go enough to look him up and down, to check him for injuries, and Charlie realised he was fine. Entirely unharmed.

“Charlie?” Nick’s hands were on his shoulders, his fringe flopping into his eyes. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

Charlie stared down at his hand, the one he distinctly remembered burning on the lock. The red, shiny welt had disappeared too. “Nick,” he gasped. “What just happened? I thought… there was a fire.”

“A fire?” Nick’s eyebrows knitted. He looked around at the open toilet door.

“Did you not see the smoke?”

“Well, yeah, I did, but—”  

“Then where—? How—?” Charlie’s mind was reeling. Had he hallucinated the whole thing? But Nick had seen the smoke so, surely, it must have been real? But where had it gone? And how had it started in the first place?

“Let me get you some water,” said Nick. “Here.” He took Charlie by the hand and led him to a table at the edge of the cafe floor.

“I-I’m fine, Nick, I don’t need—”

“Oh my God, Charlie, are you alright?” 

Tara, Darcy and Isaac hurried over, Tao and Elle lagging behind them, from where, Charlie wasn’t sure, but not from the direction of the table he’d left them at.

“I… I’m fine.”

“There was a fire in the toilet,” said Nick. He turned, arms folded, to glare at the five of them. “The door wouldn’t open.”

“What could have caused that?” asked Tao innocently.

“I don’t know,” said Nick, glaring pointedly. “I have my suspicions, but I hope for your sake I’m wrong, Tao.”

Charlie didn’t care what kind of feud Nick had with the rest of his new friends, he just wanted to get out of there, go home, curl up in his bed and sleep for days. He slipped his phone from his pocket.

“What are you doing?” asked Tara.

“Texting my gran to come and pick me up.”

“No,” said Tara. “No, don’t. Nick can give you a lift. Can’t you, Nick?”

Nick grimaced in Tao’s general direction, then softened exponentially. “Of course. I’d be happy to.”

“Oh, um… you don’t have to. It’s fine. I should probably just walk, anyway.”

“Stop that,” said Nick, chucking his apron onto a hook. “Let me just let mum know, and we can leave.”

✨

Nick was going to murder Tao Xu. He just was. 

But first he was going to make sure Charlie got home safely and in one piece, before his stupid friends got any more ideas. Exactly what Tao had been trying to do, Nick could only wonder. He knew his intentions were good, but sometimes magic got in the way. A lot of the time, actually.

Charlie sat quietly in the passenger seat as Nick drove. At the sight of his downcast expression, Nick considered how confusing that fire must have been for him. Not to mention absolutely terrifying. 

He allowed himself another glance at the adorable boy sitting beside him in his car and was struck, once again, with a sudden, strong desire to protect him. 

Back at the cafe, Nick had been halfway through pouring an iced latte when the worst but clearest feeling of dread shot through him. He’d had to shove the latte into the customer’s hands and make a quick excuse to the next in the queue before he’d been able to hurry and find Charlie trapped in the small cafe loos, smoke pouring from under the door. He’d almost caved and magicked Charlie out of there himself, but he hadn’t wanted to risk making matters worse.

“Nick?” Charlie spoke for the first time since getting into the car. “Did you see anything? Like… did you see how the fire started, or…?”

Nick grimaced and shook his head. “I don’t know. I suppose maybe something in the plumbing caught fire. I dunno.”

“But that doesn’t explain why the door wouldn’t open.”

“Maybe you were so panicked you accidentally locked it?”

The lack of conviction, and the guilt in his own tone made him wince—and made Charlie squeeze his eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed. “But then how did the fire suddenly go out? It makes no sense.”

Nick didn’t know what to say. As they approached Britannia Road, he turned over and over in his mind the possibility of just telling Charlie the entire, unbelievable truth right there and then. He hadn’t wanted to. He still didn’t really want to—not yet, anyway. He didn’t know what would happen. Anything that might make Charlie Spring not want to speak to him anymore was something he wanted to avoid wherever possible.

But could Nick sit by and allow Charlie to suffer in this confused trauma?

They pulled up outside the house and Nick took a breath. “So,” he said. “Verdict on your first day?”

Charlie stared at him, eyebrows raised. His eyes were still a little red-rimmed from where he’d been rubbing at them. Nick raised his eyebrows right back at him and Charlie laughed. His blue eyes glittered and the dimples in his cheeks winked.

“I’ve had worse days,” he chuckled. “But not many.” He unclicked his seatbelt. “Thanks for the lift, and for… saving my life, I suppose. And for the free pain au chocolat. I really owe you a lot.”

Nick laughed. “Not a thing. I only did what anyone would do. With the fire and with the pastry.”

That smile on Charlie’s face, small and a little shy, but genuine and shiny… Nick didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Still, thank you.”

Nick watched Charlie get out of the car and walk up the path to his front door. He was sliding his key into the door when he turned around, as if sensing Nick still watching him. Nick grinned and Charlie grinned back. Charlie gave the cutest little wave and Nick waved too.

Then the new boy disappeared into his grandmother’s house and Nick turned back to his steering wheel, every single item inside his car which was not stuck down now floating around his head.

✨

As soon as the cafe door shut behind Nick and Charlie, Tara whirled on Tao. “That was so stupid and reckless. And you risked exposure for us all.”

“It was just a test, Tara,” said Elle, shrugging. “We all want to know, don’t we? How powerful he is.”

“Yes, but he could have been really hurt.”

“I know,” said Tao. He swept his beanie from his head and kneaded it between his hands. “I know, okay? I didn’t mean for the whole room to go up in flames, of course I didn’t. That was him. ”

“What?”

“I felt it,” said Tao. “His power connected with mine. Everything you said about our coven is true, Tara. With Charlie here, we have real power.”

A silence fell between the five of them, of tentatively excited anticipation. Darcy turned to Tara, a massive grin on their face, as if they expected to see their own joy reflected in hers. Tara was pleased, but she looked at Isaac and knew she wasn’t alone in her trepidation.

“In that case, we really do need to take things slow,” she said. “We haven’t known how to control the power we’ve had up until now. Adding more isn’t going to fix that problem, not until…”

“We need to tell him, then,” said Elle. “He needs to know what he can do.”

“No—”

“Tara, why not?” Tao exclaimed. “He’ll never be able to control it if he doesn’t even know what it is.”

“Before he does some major damage,” Elle added.

“He just lost his dad,” said Tara. “He needs time to just… be.”

✨

That night, when Charlie was finally tucked up in bed, he couldn’t bring himself to sleep. The memory of that wall of fire, of the smoke and the panic and the unyielding locked door between himself and safety… they all swirled around his mind’s eye for hours without revealing any answers. Maybe he had been so exhausted after his first day in a new town, surrounded by new people, that he really had hallucinated it all. Perhaps there had been smoke. But maybe there had never been a fire. Maybe he was losing it.

He rolled onto his back and tried to remember some of the more favourable aspects of his first day in Truham. Friends. He seemed to have made six whole friends. How he’d done it, he didn’t know. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d had six friends ever up until this point in his life.

It wasn’t that he had been disliked at his old school. In primary school, he’d had lots of little friends, only none that stuck past Year 6. The same was true of the start of secondary school. It was only when Year 9 came and he came out that everything changed. None of the people he considered friends before that day could be considered any longer. He had told himself he didn’t need them. That he was better off without them if that was what they thought of him.

He’d never entirely believed it.

But now here he was with a group of interesting, funny, queer friends he wasn’t even slightly worried about turning on him—not because he was gay, anyway. He’d have to be on his best behaviour, he told himself, lest they found some other reason to ditch him.

This time they would stay. This time someone would stick around for good.

For some reason, Nick’s concerned face flooded his mind. Charlie pulled the duvet up under his chin, smiling to himself. He hadn’t had a crush on a boy quite like this in ages.

He looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars across his ceiling and he remembered again, the way it had felt to be wrapped in Nick’s arms, to be on the receiving end of his smile, his laugh, his mere attention. He looked at the stars so long they began to blur together, until he felt as if he were floating in space. 

He blinked. 

The stars blinked back. 

They were no longer plastic, but tiny balls of light glittering above him. 

He stared, heart pounding in fear but also something else… exhilaration?

Heart in his throat, Charlie reached to switch on the bedside light, then whirled around to look at the ceiling again. 

Just normal, plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars.

He sank back against his covers. 

It took him a long time to get to sleep that night, and he left the light on.

Chapter Text

chapter two: what drowning is like

Charlie stepped into his form room on Thursday morning and half wished the ground would swallow him up when Mr Farouk directed him to sit beside Nick. He didn’t remember falling asleep last night and he knew it showed in the dark circles under his eyes. And no matter how much he had adjusted and fixed, he could not get his hair to lie the way he wanted this morning.

“Hi,” said Nick as Charlie sat down.

“Hi.”

As Nick spoke gently—not of the fire, not of his dead dad—Charlie momentarily forgot his worries. Not so much the ones involving his feelings and whether his own were reciprocated, but those weren’t necessarily bad worries. The giddy feeling he got when Nick looked at him, when he talked and laughed and smiled… Well, Charlie was quite happy to sit there quietly as Nick showed him photos of his dog (the cafe’s namesake, Nellie) and told him all about the new cheesecake recipe he was excited to test for the cafe. 

Lunch with Tao and Isaac was great. It really was truly nice to have friends. But by Friday, Charlie had realised the highlight of his day had quickly become those twenty minutes at the beginning where he got to sit beside Nick and talk to him. He’d also managed to get more than two hours of sleep and was actually able to participate in the gentle chatter. When the two of them were sitting by the window, ignoring every other person in the room, there never had been any fire ever, except the one in Charlie’s chest which burned for Nick.

Only having one lesson on Friday was great. One of the massive improvements in school life when starting Sixth Form was the free periods. So, after lunch, Charlie headed back through town toward home, hoping to get some work done there, though knowing very well he wouldn’t.

The window of Nellie’s Tea Room glowed from across the road. Charlie stopped and watched Sarah serve a customer, nothing but kindness in her smile. He thought the cafe might have lost its charm, considering the terrifying and confusing incident which had happened between its walls, but the same warm and fuzzy feeling Charlie had gotten two days ago persisted. 

He was just considering going inside and getting himself something—if only for an excuse to go and talk to Sarah—when the doors opened and a woman stepped out, takeaway tea in hand, and walked directly into Charlie.

“Sorry!”

“Sorry.” The woman caught a look at his face. “Are you Charlie Spring?”

Charlie blinked. “Yes.” Did everyone in this town know his name?

The woman held out a hand and he shook it. “I’m Pauline Jones. I was a good friend of your father’s. I’m so very, very sorry to hear about the accident.”

“Thanks,” Charlie managed. Would the casual sympathy only stop when every single person in all of Truham spoke the same words to him?

The cafe doors opened again and out stepped Tara and Darcy, both with coffees in their hands.

“I’ll leave you three to have fun,” said Pauline. She gave a cheerful wave, then walked away down the road.

“Hey, Charlie,” said Tara. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. How have you been settling in?”

“Fine, I suppose.”

Tara nodded in understanding. Charlie tried to smile, but he suspected it came out as more of a grimace. He didn’t really want to be around anyone right now, but he liked Tara and Darcy, and they hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Are you alright?” asked Darcy. “You look kind of weird.”

Charlie covered his eyes with his hand and let out an irritable sigh. “Well, I was forced to leave the only home I’ve ever known, forced to live in a big, empty house with my grandmother who’s only there like thirty percent of the time, all while trying to process my dad’s death, and every time I think I’ve forgotten for a little while, someone says something or does something that reminds me. And then—and then —a tiny toilet cubicle fucking caught fire while I was locked inside it, only afterwards, there was no evidence there was even a fire other than Nick seeing the smoke, too, which could have been from anything…” He took a breath and looked into Tara and Darcy’s stunned faces. “And now you’re both looking at me like I’m some kind of—”

“No,” said Darcy. “We’re not.”

“It’s true,” said Tara. “You’re right. So much has happened and I know if it were me, I’d be just the same.”

Charlie gripped the straps of his backpack and kicked at the ground. “If I could just understand what started that fire, and what put it out…”

“It really could have been anything,” said Tara. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”

“But weird things keep happening to me,” said Charlie. “Ever since I got here. Not just the fire.”

“What kind of weird things?” asked Darcy.

He met Darcy’s eye and they frowned, different from their girlfriend’s concern. Tara nudged them and the two of them exchanged startled looks, as if Darcy wanted to tell Charlie something Tara didn’t.

“Nothing,” said Charlie, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m really sorry, but I kind of just want to go home. I have a lot of coursework to do.” He turned to go but then—

“Charlie, wait!”

“What are you doing?” Tara hissed, grabbing Darcy’s arm.

“Look at him,” Darcy whispered. “He needs to know the truth.”

Charlie looked from one new friend to the other. Although Tara still looked uncertain, she did nothing to stop Darcy from turning to Charlie, a determined gleam in their blue eyes and saying, “I think maybe we can help.”

✨

There was a van selling coffee and sweet treats not far from the hospital and that was where Kathleen found Richard Argent that afternoon. She had been hoping to find one of them alone, and he had been the preferred candidate for the conversation she was about to have.

“Hello, Richard,” she said, siding up to him as he turned away from the van, a cup clutched in his hands.

“Kathleen, nice to see you.” She followed him down the road. “How’s your grandson settling in? He seems like a lovely boy.”

“I wanted to talk to you about Charlie, actually. I don’t know if you heard, but there was a fire at Nellie’s Tea Room last night while Charlie was there.”

Richard blanched. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, he’s fine. It’s what caused the fire which concerns me.”

Richard ceased walking and Kathleen did too. She turned to fix him with as penetrating stare as she could muster and lowered her voice. “I seem to remember something similar happening years ago. Teenagers messing around. We both know how that ended.”

The head teacher shuffled uncomfortably in his shiny shoes. He glanced up and down the road, though there were few people around. Kathleen watched him carefully, and knew she’d gotten him where she wanted. “Are the children practising?”

“They can’t be.”

Kathleen raised her eyebrows. “They’re teenagers, Richard. They can be very resourceful. I would never have allowed Charlie to come here if I—”

“Look,” said Richard. “I’m around them all day every day at school. If anyone was practising magic in my school, I would know.”

“We can’t let it happen again.”

The two of them stood there, watching each other for a long moment before Richard cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee. “If I see or hear anything I will let you know, I promise.” And he strode away, the back of his coat flapping in the breeze.

✨

Neither Tara nor Darcy seemed inclined to clue Charlie into where they were going, not even as he followed them towards the edge of town, over a style and into the woods. The instinct to spend the afternoon shut in his room had left him somewhere along the way, though. He knew he couldn’t cut himself off from others, no matter how much he wanted to.

“You’re not leading me into the woods to murder me, are you?”

Darcy linked their arm around his and laughed. “Yes. We are one hundred percent about to murder our cool new gay friend. Yep, definitely.”

Tara appeared on Charlie’s other side to link with his other arm. “Shh! Don’t blow our cover, Darce.”

If he was being marched to his death by two lesbians he was glad it was reasonably mild for September, and that he was surrounded by nature before the end. The slowly setting sun was casting dappled patterns of light across the leaf-strewn ground. The air was clean and crisp, accompanied by that lovely woody smell. Charlie breathed it in and let his friends guide him along.

He was just wondering how much further there was to go when, between the trees, a wall of painted white brick appeared ahead. Closer still, and he saw windows, a chimney, an old wooden door.

“Welcome to the cottage, Charlie,” said Tara. “Only a little less spooky than it looks from the outside.”

“I still think it’s haunted,” Darcy mused. “I definitely saw a ghost in the attic last week.”

Charlie laughed, but Tara looked serious. “ I’ve never seen anything,” she said. “Other than the odd bird or mouse. And that fox that peed in Tao’s bag.”

The cottage was small, the white paint chipped, several of the windows boarded up, the chimney lopsided, and when they grew closer still, Charlie saw the door was only just hanging on to its hinges.

“What happened to this place?”

Darcy shrugged. “Dunno. But it’s ours now. Come on—don’t worry, I was mostly joking about the ghosts.”

She took his hand and Charlie let Darcy pull him over the threshold, across a small entrance way, into a large, open room. It was like the entire ground floor of the cottage had been hollowed out, only bits and pieces of interior wall remaining, the ceiling rafters visible overhead. A staircase swept along the side of the room, leading to a balcony which overlooked the room below.

The overall vibe was that of a very cool club room decorated with fairy lights and pride flags. A line of plant pots dotted the window sill above a table scattered with books. He spotted a kettle and a mini fridge, a notice board pinned on the very back wall, covered in photos and drawings and mementoes. But most surprisingly of all, it wasn’t the beanbag chairs or the sofas which caught his attention most, it was the people seated around them. The familiar faces which had all turned to look at him when he entered.

“Finally,” said Tao, rising from where he’d been lounging in a beanbag chair. Elle and Isaac waved cheerfully from a sofa.

“Hey, neighbour.”

Charlie looked up. On the balcony, smiling sheepishly down at him, was the boy he’d seen only once—when he’d been wearing nothing but a towel and looking out his bedroom window. At least the boy seemed embarrassed about their first meeting, too. Charlie watched him descend the stairs and hold out a flustered hand for Charlie to shake. “I’m James.”

There was a creak of old wood, a door to the right opened and Nick appeared, brushing soil from his hands and beaming at the sight of him. “Hi.”

Charlie stared. “Nick? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, um…” Nick trailed off. He dropped his arms to swing awkwardly at his sides as he glanced around at the others.

Charlie followed his gaze and realised suddenly that all of these people had been waiting there—for him. “What’s going on?”

He looked from each worried but expectant face to the next, but no one seemed to be about to give him an answer. A warm hand landed on his shoulder and he turned to find Nick right beside him. “Come on,” he said. “Why don’t we sit down?”

And then his feet were moving him where Nick led him. He sank onto the worn but soft cushions of one of the sofas and Tara and Darcy sat down on either side of him. Nick took a seat on the beanbag nearby while Tao, Elle and Isaac gathered around the sofa opposite. James perched on the arm of the sofa beside Isaac, who replaced his bookmark and set the book aside. 

Each of them continued to watch Charlie, waiting, like they were expecting him to sprout antlers or do a funny dance or something extraordinary. But he wasn’t extraordinary. He was just Charlie. Just Charlie.

“So…” He gripped the sleeves of his coat. “You said you could help me with all the weird stuff that’s been happening. Are you going to tell me what really caused that fire?”

Nick’s eyes grew wide, and Charlie realised he had directed his question at Nick without meaning to. Charlie held his gaze but Nick glanced away, chewing his lip, to exchange looks with Tara.

She took a deep breath. “You’re right. That fire wasn’t normal. It wasn’t the plumbing or anything like that.”

“What was it, then?”

Nick opened his mouth. Then shut it again. His gaze dropped to his hands.

“What?” Charlie stifled a laugh. His new friends were an odd bunch. 

Tara gave another sigh, then turned more fully to Charlie beside her. “Look, I didn’t want to tell you like this, I wanted to wait for the right moment but—”

“He has the right to know,” said Elle.

“Know what?”

“Who you are.”

Charlie stared across at Elle, at Tao and Isaac and James. “Is this…? If you’re trying to get me to come out then that ship has sailed. I told you I’m gay. I don’t need you to tell me who I am. I’ve known forever.”

“It’s not that,” said Tara.

“Then what is it?” Charlie was beginning to get frustrated.

Tara reached out and gripped Charlie’s hands. “Okay. Alright,” she said. “We know this is going to sound crazy, okay? But that fire… I don’t know how to say this but, um… we’re different. You’re different.”

“Yep, gay, covered that already.”

Tara gave a huff of annoyance, threw up her hands and sank back against the sofa cushions in defeat.

“For God’s sake,” said Elle, rolling her eyes. She leaned forward and looked Charlie dead in the eye. “Charlie, you’re a witch. A full-blooded, hundred percent witch. We all are. Even Tao and he’s not even queer.” 

In the resounding silence, Elle merely shrugged and sat back again. “There,” she said. “Done.”

Before he could stop himself, Charlie laughed. 

But none of the others were laughing. Not even smiling. 

He turned to Nick. But he looked even more worried than the others. 

Charlie’s face fell. “You’re joking. Right?”

Nick swallowed. “I know how it sounds, believe me, okay?” The others nodded in agreement. “But it’s true, Charlie. We have magic and that makes us witches. It’s been in all our families for generations.”

A strange ringing sound began in Charlie’s head. He got to his feet, unsteady, his hands tight around the straps of his school bag as he swung it onto his back. “No,” he said. “I knew it. I knew there’d be some sort of catch.”

Nick and the others stared up at him as he moved away from the sofas, away from them . “What do you mean?”

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut. “Of course I couldn’t just make so many great friends in one day —not without some ulterior motive—”

“Charlie, it’s not like—”

“We don’t have—”

“You do!” Charlie opened his eyes and glared at them all sitting there, apparently shocked—as if he was being the unreasonable one here. “All of you—none of you wanted to be my friend—not really. You just wanted to recruit me into your creepy, weird cult.”

Nick got to his feet. “That’s not true.”

“Well,” said Tao. “It kind of is… only you do seem actually cool, Charlie.”

Darcy nodded. “We were so worried you would be a knob.”

“You’re honestly everything we could have hoped for,” said Isaac. “Cool and funny and smart enough not to believe our crap immediately.”

“And we’re not a cult,” said Elle. “We’re a coven.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Sounds very culty.”

Not wanting to look at any of them anymore, he instead turned to some of the details he’d missed from around the room. He looked closer at the items scattered across the coffee table—books with titles like Witchcraft for Beginners, Queer Magic and The Green Witch. The one Isaac had clutched in his lap was titled Queering Your Craft. And the closer Charlie looked, the more he saw—herbs and jars and bottles and candles—so many candles.

Tara reached into her school bag and lifted out another book. This one was very old-looking, handmade and leather-bound. “This is my family’s grimoire,” she said. “Each of our families have one like this. They passed them down through the generations but this is the only one we’ve actually found.”

“Which is why she’s the leader,” Tao murmured.

“And,” said Darcy. “Because of her natural charisma, loveliness and generally amazing personality.”

Tao stuck out his tongue.

“There are tons of spells and enchantments in here,” Tara continued. “We’ve been practising a little bit but without a full coven…”

“The spells we can do are really boring ones,” said Darcy.

“Like open locked doors,” said Tao.

“Or curtains,” said James.

“Or set fires?!” Charlie looked from Tao to James to Nick, who ducked his head in shame. Charlie took a controlled breath. “That was you ?”

Nick shook his head adamantly. “No. I would never—that was all Tao.”

“I’m really sorry about that,” said Tao, shifting in his seat. “That got very out of hand. Magic—it’s hard to control sometimes.”

“A lot of the time,” said Tara.

The ringing in Charlie’s head seemed to grow louder then. He barely knew where he was anymore, he was barely in the room, even as his new friends continued to spew their nonsense.

“Which is why we need you,” said Elle. “You complete the coven.”

“With you,” said James. “We’re at full power.”

“But there’s a ritual we need to do that will bind us,” Tara explained. “It’ll help us share the power evenly, so it isn’t so wild, so we can control it better.”

He still couldn’t believe none of them had broken yet. Surely, one of them would break, would laugh and give the game away. But still, they all looked so serious. Nick’s cheeks were pale, his eyes shining.

Charlie’s voice came out as hardly more than a whisper. “You are all seriously messed up.” 

“Surely deep down you must know it’s true,” said James. “I did when Isaac told me. Suddenly, lots of things that didn’t make sense just… did.”

“Don’t tell me what I know deep down,” said Charlie. “All I know is that you have all been taking drugs or some shit. As nice as you all seem, I’m not into that and I—I’m too messed up already to—” He clenched his hands tighter around his sleeves. “You know what? Fuck you all. You don’t get to recruit me into your cult when I’m sad and vulnerable. I have more self-respect than that.”

He turned on his heel and strode for the door. 

“Charlie…” 

Nick made to follow him, but Charlie quickened his pace and ducked out of the room, out of the cottage. But as Nick watched him hurry away from them all, he couldn’t blame him for running. Not at all. “You were right,” he said. “This was way too soon.”

“I know.” Tara slipped her grimoire away again. “But earlier in town, he was so scared and confused.”

“I know,” said Nick. “And he’s way too smart to convince otherwise.”

“Are we just going to let him run out of here, though?” said Elle, getting to her feet. “He could run to his gran and tell her everything!”

The others were halfway to the door before Nick intercepted them. “Wait,” he said. “We’ve already scared him enough. Let… let me find him. I’ll find him.”

✨

The sun was beginning to set. The mottled light between the trees had disappeared. Now, as Charlie made his way back through the woods, everything looked different. Less kind, less exciting, less comforting. Only when he was certain he’d left the cottage way behind him did he slow down. And also when he was certain he had been going the wrong way.

He glanced around, peered between the trees for any sign of the style he had so reluctantly clambered over half an hour ago. He should have just gone home like he’d wanted. Then he might still be living in blissful ignorance about his miraculous group of new friends. But then again maybe it was for the best he knew the truth. 

He was about to set off in a random direction, thinking he’d find civilisation eventually, when there was a rustle of leaves, a branch was pushed aside and Nick burst out onto the earthen path. “Whoa,” he gasped. “You are fast .”

“Please, leave me alone.” Somehow Nick’s betrayal hurt more than the others. 

Charlie turned to go but Nick stepped sideways to block his path. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t do that.” His eyes were shining again, glinting dully in the dying light. Charlie let himself look upon his handsome face—and blanched at the plain devastation residing there. This boy wore his emotions not on his sleeve, but on every inch of his face. 

It wasn’t fair. Nick was way too endearing to be too angry at. 

Charlie let out a breath. “What you’re asking me to believe… it’s crazy.”

“I know. But all those things that you said keep happening—the fire, the door locking—you said yourself it didn’t make sense. You knew there was something strange going on. Well, there is… magic.”

Charlie searched that expressive face for any hint of a lie. And found none.

“My mum’s a witch,” Nick continued. “And my dad was, too. Our parents had a coven just like ours. Your dad—”

“My dad was not a witch,” said Charlie. “I would have known… I…”

“Not necessarily.” Nick reached out a hand, as if he wanted to touch Charlie’s shoulder, only to shove it inside his jacket pocket instead. “None of our parents told us anything. We had to find out for ourselves. Magic was covered up years ago. There was a big accident, something went wrong—we’re not sure exactly what—but people got hurt, killed. So witchcraft was abolished in Truham. Which is why we have to keep it a secret,” he added. “So, please, don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.” The words left Charlie’s mouth without a thought. All he knew was that he needed Nick to look at least a little less worried, a little less sad. Even if his words didn’t make sense.

Nick breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Okay. That’s good.”

“I won’t tell anyone about your secret queer, druggy cult.”

Nick smiled. “We’re not on drugs, I promise. We’re not a cult, though I understand how it might come across that way. We are pretty queer, though, apart from Tao. They’re good people, Charlie. They’re my people, and I know my word might not mean much to you, but I’d choose them as my friends any day, even if we didn’t have magic. But it does help… to have them. I was so confused before, and scared—fuck, I still am confused and scared, but they help. They can help you, too.”

It didn’t help that half of what Nick said made perfect sense. A lot of it was everything Charlie had ever wanted. But not even Nick’s warm brown, puppy dog eyes could make him forget how the very world they lived in worked. “There’s no such thing as witches and magic. I don’t believe you. I can’t.”

“Then let me show you?”

“What?”

“It’ll only take a second and I promise it won’t be scary…” Nick began to scan the forest floor around them. “Or at least, I’ll try not to make it scary. Like we said, it’s hard to control.”

Charlie couldn’t help but giggle. Nick was so serious, so sincere. 

Nick seemed to find what he was looking for, plucked something up from the ground, then turned back to Charlie, something clutched between his fingers. “If this doesn’t work,” he said. “Then I promise you can turn around and never speak to me or any of those idiots ever again.”

A strange swooshing sensation turned over in Charlie’s stomach and he felt faintly sick. Perhaps it was the thought of never speaking to Nick again, or maybe it was the anticipation of magic. What exactly was Nick going to do?

Nick opened his hand to reveal a single oak leaf. “Hold out your hand,” he said.

It was difficult not to laugh in his face. Charlie tried his best to stifle his giggles and did as he was told, palm facing up. 

Nick placed the leaf carefully into Charlie’s palm. “Close your eyes.”

Charlie gave him an exasperated look, but Nick merely nodded in encouragement. Charlie sighed and, as sarcastically as he could manage, closed his eyes. Nick laughed, and a warm sensation fluttered in Charlie’s belly.

“Now, concentrate,” said Nick. “On how you’re connected to the ground, then how the leaf is connected to you, and how the air around us is connected to the leaf. Focus all your energy on that.” 

It was like he could hear Nick’s voice not only in his ears, but straight through him. And despite the ridiculousness of the situation, for the first time in a while, Charlie wasn’t thinking about his dad or making friends or anything else at all.

He opened his eyes.

The leaf was still lying in his open palm. “Is something supposed to have happened?”

Nick frowned, eyebrows knitted. He took a breath, then cupped his hands around Charlie’s, around the leaf. 

Charlie’s heart fluttered, then soared—everything seemed to come into brighter focus—the leaf, the trees, the sky, the ground, Nick Nelson, his eyes, his hair, his freckles…

“Do you feel that?”

His voice.

Yes, Charlie wanted to shout.

“That—that’s your energy connecting with mine.” Nick sounded breathless. “Though it doesn’t usually feel quite like that with the others…” He trailed off, distracted. 

But Charlie was too busy noticing the colours of the world anew. Noticing every shade of golden honey that made up Nick’s eyes, every red and orange and brown of his hair. All the colours of the trees and the sky and the ground seemed to surround him, like a blanket of warmth, of safety, of comfort, of calm.

“Should I try again?” Charlie whispered.

Nick blinked, as if out of a similar daze, and nodded.

Charlie closed his eyes and tried to do as Nick had said—to focus on his connection to the earth beneath his feet, to the leaf in his hand, to the air around him, to Nick’s hands around his own. This time, though his eyes were closed, the colours remained.

At Nick’s sudden intake of breath, Charlie flung his eyes open.

Nick was still holding onto his hand, but the leaf had vanished. Charlie followed Nick’s upturned gaze and saw it—the leaf, floating in midair between them. 

“Are you doing this?” Charlie gasped.

Nick smiled, but he was no longer looking at the leaf, but all around them. “We are.”

Charlie looked around. 

Every fallen leaf for as far as he could see, was floating in mid-air, just like their leaf. Each drop of dew shone, bouncing rainbows of light all around them. Charlie’s breath caught. “Wow.”

Nick’s hands tightened a little around his and Charlie looked down again.

“This has never happened before,” said Nick, eyes wide. “Not like this. Not before you.”

Charlie didn’t know when or how it had happened but they were standing almost nose to nose. Their hands still clasped, the energy flickering between them was so intense it was a little overwhelming. But Charlie felt so light and… amazing —like something inside him had been missing and this was it. This.

Their lips were millimetres apart before Charlie remembered where he was and what he was doing. With a gasp, he drew back and dropped Nick’s hands. “I’m sorry.” 

There was a rushing sound as all the leaves fell back to the forest floor at once.

Nick stepped away and shoved his hands back into his pockets. “No, I’m sorry—I—” He swallowed thickly, caught sight of the stunned look on Charlie’s face and turned to hurry back through the trees.

Stupid, Nick told himself as he strode towards the cottage. What had he been thinking? Had he just been about to kiss a boy he’d met literally three days ago? He liked Charlie, he really did. But did he really know him?

That was the question, wasn’t it? He felt like he did. There was something familiar about Charlie Spring, even if it had only been three days.

He found the others where he’d left them, sprawled out across the sofas in the cottage. Isaac had picked up his book again and Tao and Elle were whispering closely together. All of them looked up at Nick’s entrance.

“So?” said Isaac. “Did you find him?”

“Um… yeah, I did.”

“Thank god,” Tara sighed. “And you made sure he wouldn’t blab?”

“He won’t tell anyone.” He sank onto the sofa and ran a hand through his hair. “I think he’s almost there with believing us. We did some magic together and, um… it was fine, great even, until…”

“You did magic together?” Darcy exclaimed. “What did you do?”

“I only meant for him to float one leaf but then when I helped him, we accidentally floated all of them. It felt different with him. More intense. It’s true—with Charlie here everything is different. We have more power.”

“Which is why we need to perform the ritual,” said Tara. “The sooner the better—before Charlie tells his gran and anyone else who’ll listen.”

“He isn’t going to do that, I told you,” said Nick. “I trust him.”

“Well,” Darcy giggled. “You did make magic together.”

Nick felt his cheeks heat up and he rolled his eyes as the others laughed. He supposed there was no hiding the fact he had a massive crush. He could only wonder whether Tao had experienced the same intensity when his magic had connected with Charlie’s. For some reason, he kind of hoped not.

James got to his feet and swung his school bag over his shoulder. “I’ll head home, see if I can meet Charlie before he gets there. I can make sure he doesn’t tell his gran, at least.”

Several of the others nodded in assent and James left the cottage. Nick wanted to go after him and tell him to leave Charlie alone, but secrecy was key and well, James wasn’t known for being intimidating.

“We’re gonna head out, too,” said Tao as he and Elle got to their feet. “We have a date night planned.”

“What about Charlie?” Tara asked after them. “We need to find him before—”

Elle scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, leave him be for now. I don’t see the rush to bind the coven. We have more power now—thanks, Charlie—so we should use it, right?”

“Why shouldn’t we have a little fun with it?” said Tao. He grasped Elle’s hand and the two of them practically skipped from the cottage in their excitement.

“Ugh!” Tara groaned, getting to her feet. “Come on, Darce, we should head into town. If Charlie didn’t go home, maybe we can catch him before he—”

Darcy exchanged an alarmed look with Nick, then hurried after their girlfriend to stop her in the doorway. “Look, babe, I know you’re worried. And we should absolutely bind the coven at some point but… maybe Tao and Elle have a point. Maybe we can have some fun with this new power? At least while we let Charlie process everything.” They gripped Tara’s hands and squeezed them gently. “You said it yourself, he’s had a lot going on.”

Tara chewed at her lip and studied Darcy’s face. She glanced at Nick, who nodded in agreement. “He just needs more time,” he said. “I really do trust him not to say anything.”

“Isaac?” said Tara. “What do you think?”

“We definitely need to bind the coven,” said Isaac. “It’s too dangerous not to. But we can’t and shouldn’t force Charlie to do anything he doesn’t want to do, including believing in magic.”

✨

By the time Charlie found his way out of the woods and into town, the sun had sunk lower in the sky and night was truly upon him. The walk had given him a long time to breathe and to think. Everything about Nick seemed trustworthy and good except… Magic couldn’t be real. It simply couldn’t.

Still, what had happened in that clearing between the two of them—if there was any proof magic was real then hadn’t that been it? Charlie gave his head a little shake. No. He was just being sappy. God, he really was annoyingly gone for this delusional boy. This delusional, cute boy.

Rochester town centre was bustling. It was Friday night, he remembered. The windows of Nellie’s Tea Room glowed dimly, only a single light on inside. He could just make out Sarah as she moved around the tables with a mop. He longed to go and talk to her. He knew his grandmother wouldn’t be home for hours still. There was no reason to hurry home, he thought… and maybe Sarah could answer some of his questions, maybe she could help things make a little more sense.

Charlie crossed the road and was pushing the tea room door open before he had made up his mind. The bell overhead tinkled and Sarah looked up.

“Charlie,” she said with a smile. “Are you alright? We’re closed now, but I can make you something if you like.”

“I need to talk to you. If that’s okay.”

“Of course, dear. Why don’t we sit?” Sarah took two chairs from where they had been stacked on top of the nearest table and sat down. Charlie perched on the edge of the chair opposite and worried at his sleeves. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything? You look a little pale and wobbly.”

“No, thanks. I just wanted… I thought you might… I needed…”

Her brown eyes softened. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Take your time.”

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut, then looked down at his hands folded in his coat sleeves. “Why did my dad really leave here? You said everyone liked him. He had people, loads of people it seems, around him to be there for him after my mum died so… what happened?”

Sarah sighed. “Your mother…”

“Tell me about her.”

“Well, she and I never really got along, truth be told.” Charlie frowned. He couldn’t imagine anyone not getting along with Sarah. “But Julio loved her, despite her flaws.”

“What was she like? I never… he never spoke about her, not really.”

Sarah grimaced. “You don’t want to hurt more than you already do.”

“What?” Charlie stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“Your mother,” said Sarah. “She was… a complicated woman.”

The bell over the front door tinkled and Sarah looked up. Her face fell. Charlie looked around to see Tara’s mother Pauline had entered, wrapped in an elegant black coat.

“Hello, Sarah,” she said.

“I was just closing up, actually, Pauline.” Sarah got to her feet, her hands clenched around the edge of the table. 

Pauline stepped further inside. “Is she bothering you, Charlie?”

“We were just talking,” said Sarah.

Tara’s mum raised her eyebrows. “Why don’t we call it a night?”

“Um…” Charlie looked between the two women and shivered. “We really were just talking. I’m sorry if—”

“What’s going on?” The bell rang out once again, cutting through the tension, and Nick stepped inside. He looked from Pauline to his mother to Charlie. He let out a breath. “Mum?”

Sarah let go of the table. “It’s nothing, baby, don’t worry about me. Why don’t you head home? I’m almost done here, anyway.”

“Oh, okay—Charlie, wait!” 

But Charlie was already at the door and yanking it open. He disappeared out into the gathering darkness. 

✨

As her son drove home, Sarah restacked the chairs onto the table and put away the mop. When she came back out onto the cafe floor, Pauline was still standing there, apparently studying the menu above the counter, though her eyes were unmoving. Sarah went to the windows and began to pull down the blinds.

“We have a problem,” said Pauline at last. “You’re too nice, Sarah, too kind, too chatty. I can’t have that.”

Sarah secured the final blind, plunging the room into darkness. “What do you want, Pauline?”

“I wonder,” said Pauline slowly. “What would happen if you slipped and fell into the river.” 

Sarah stared. 

“You’d drown. No one would find your body for days. And do you know what drowning is like? That feeling of not being able to breathe?”

Sarah opened her mouth to ask the other woman what the hell she was talking about—and choked. Something had appeared in her throat.

“Gasping for air…”

Sarah tried to take a breath and found she couldn’t. The thing in her throat grew larger and her head spun. Gasping, she slipped sideways onto the wooden floorboards. Coolness spread beneath her cheek, towards her ear. Water, she realised. Water was spilling from her mouth. And she couldn’t breathe.

“Panicking as your lungs fill with water…”

Sarah rolled onto her front, coughing and choking as salty water continued to spill onto the floor beneath her. Her head spun once again and then she was face down, unable to move, unable to do anything as the oxygen was cut off from her brain.

“It’s a horrible death,” said Pauline. Her heeled boot splashed dully as she stepped closer, gazing casually down at Sarah’s limp form. “This is my one and only warning.”

The lump in Sarah’s throat disappeared then and the rest of the water gushed forth. She came back to herself with a gasp, her lungs suddenly clear. Air flooded in and she breathed.

✨

Tara had been genuine when she’d assured Darcy she would give Charlie time. This morning she had been willing to wait, at least for a little while, but then the moment Elle had blurted out the truth to Charlie, a fear had seized Tara. One she hadn’t been expecting. It was familiar, in a way. Not unlike the fear of being outed before one was ready. 

Personally, Tara had only ever told one person about magic—Darcy. When she had stumbled upon her grimoire and needed help figuring out what it meant, Darcy had been there. Then, in Year 11 when Elle had joined Higgs and the three of them became friends, it became clear quite quickly they were not the only witches in Truham. 

Tara had been there when they had told Elle, they had agreed to do it together—but Darcy had done the telling. Elle had then found Tao and told him, who in turn told Isaac and Isaac found James. There had been only six of them for a while until their Year 11 trip to Paris when, while sharing a room with Tao, Isaac and James, Nick Nelson came out as bisexual (on purpose) and came out as a witch (by accident when he’d thrown Ben Hope into the Seine).

Now here they were more than a year later and things had changed. They understood more—not a lot, but more—and now, Tara supposed as she strolled along the Esplanade hand-in-hand with Darcy, they had a lot more to lose if Charlie refused to believe them. It wasn’t fair, but it was the truth.

Still, with Darcy chattering beside her, the lights of the town reflecting on the surface of the water, the cool early autumn air brushing their cheeks, things felt better. And when Tara noticed the lonely figure standing by the riverbank, looking out over the water, his dark curls lifting in the breeze, she stopped walking before she could think not to.

Darcy stopped too, cut off mid-ramble. They saw Charlie and sighed. “Don’t.”

“Let me try again?”

“If Nick couldn’t convince him with his overall golden retriever-ness, then I don’t see what else we can do.”

“I’m sorry.” Tara dropped Darcy’s hand and stepped off the path. She crossed the grass to the riverbank wall, below which sat the darkened pier.

“No,” said Charlie the moment he saw her. “I can’t deal with any more of this right now.”

“Look, I know you’re scared. I know it’s a lot, what we’re asking of you and I hate pressuring you, I really do, but… it’s important we bind the coven and for that we need you.”

Charlie leaned away from the wall and looked up at the dark sky. The stars winked from above. The lanterns on their string along the riverside danced in the breeze. “If… if for a second we pretended I believed in magic,” he said. “Why would I want anything to do with it? Nick said something bad happened ages ago and magic was abolished. Sounds dangerous to me.”

“There was an accident,” said Tara. “Sixteen years ago.”

“Nick said people were killed.”

“People, yes,” said Tara. “Our parents. They were all members of the last Truham coven.”

The lights reflected in Charlie’s blue eyes and he looked so uncertain, so lost. Tara’s heart squeezed for him. “My mum’s accident,” he said, voice thick. “Was that…?”

“Yes, Charlie.” Tara swallowed against the lump in her throat. “We don’t know exactly what happened. It might have been an accident. But maybe it wasn’t. Either way, magic doesn’t have to be scary or bad—we just have to be able to control it. Until then… well, it is dangerous.”

“This was what my dad was running from,” said Charlie. “This. He didn’t want this for me. If he did, he would have told me.” It wasn’t only the lights shining in Charlie’s eyes now, because tears had gathered in them too. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“I don’t know, Charlie.”

The sky burst apart. An enormous crack of thunder shook the clouds. Tara flung the hood of her coat up but it was too late, she was already soaked. Charlie, who had been trying to discreetly wipe away his tears, might not have bothered.

Tara looked around and realised Darcy was no longer watching them from the pavement. “Darcy?!” 

They had moved closer to the pier, several metres from where Tara and Charlie were standing. Their face was tilted skyward and they were grinning, their eyes alight with excitement—with magic. 

“Please,” Darcy cried into the downpour. “Sky! Rain down on me!” With a laugh of delight, they lifted their arms above their head. “More!”

Lightning forked the sky. People around them hurried for the nearest shelter. A lamp post across the road sizzled, sparked and went out.

“Darcy!” Tara yelled, darting towards them. “What are you doing?!”

“It’s so beautiful!”

She made it to Darcy’s side and reached for their hands. They let Tara guide them back down, then replaced them around her shoulders. “Kiss me in the rain!” 

Darcy leaned in to kiss her but Tara pulled back. “You can’t just make it rain because you want to.”

“Yes, I can. We can do anything we want.”

“No, Darce, you’ve got to stop it.”

More lightning zapped, closer this time. A second bolt struck the top of the lamppost right beside them. Tara felt the jolt through the pavement a second before she flung her hands out to catch herself. Her palms scraped the soaked pavement. When she looked up again, every single lamp post in sight exploded in a shower of sparks.

“Are you okay?!” Darcy yelled. They ran to her and reached to help her up. 

Tara took their hands and got unsteadily to her feet. “You have to stop this before people get hurt!”

“Okay,” Darcy gasped, their blue eyes wide with panic. “Okay, I will.” Still gripping Tara’s hands, Darcy turned back to the sky. “Stop!”

The rain battered their faces, thunder crackled.

“Stop this storm!” Darcy cried. “Please!” Their voice shook and broke. “Please, stop! Why isn’t it working?”

“Make it stop.” 

Tara and Darcy whirled around. Tara had almost forgotten he was there with them, but there he was, Charlie, striding towards them, his curls flattened, plastered to his forehead, his gaze fixed determinedly, coldly , on the raging storm above them. 

“Make it stop.”

Lightning zapped and Charlie’s pale face flashed in the darkness. He took a breath, utterly still, and closed his eyes.

“Make. It. Stop.”

Silence. 

Immediate and complete.

Tara blinked. 

The sky was clear, the stars once again visible. 

Darcy clung to her, both of them soaked to the skin as they stared in awe at Charlie.

“You did it,” Darcy gasped. “You stopped it.”

He swept his soggy hair away from his eyes. He still couldn’t seem to look at either of them directly. “This?” he said. “I don’t want any part of this.” 

And he turned and walked away down the road, leaving Tara and Darcy staring after him.

✨

“What happened to you?” Kathleen appeared from the kitchen as Charlie shut the front door behind him. He dropped his school bag onto the floor and peeled his sodden coat away from his blazer. “You’re drenched.”

“Did you see the storm?” He managed a short, forced laugh. “It came out of nowhere.”

She took his coat from him and shook it out. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. I just want to get out of these clothes. Goodnight.”

He didn’t miss the concern in her eyes as he turned and headed up the stairs. 

It wasn’t until he had shucked off the rest of his clothes and climbed into the shower that he let himself think about all that had happened that evening. When he had watched the world turn from still to the most intense thunderstorm he’d ever seen in his life in a second flat, well, he knew he had been right. If magic was real, then it was dangerous. 

The moment Tara had been thrown to the ground, something had clicked inside his head. He’d barely been conscious as he strode to his friends’ sides, looked up at the sky and told it to stop. All the while, Nick’s voice had echoed in his head and he had focused on his connection to the earth and the water and the air, and it had worked.

Despite the hot water cascading down his back, Charlie shivered. 

He washed his hair, dried and dressed into some soft pyjamas. In his bedroom, he bundled a blanket around himself for good measure and was just settling down with a book, hoping to distract himself so he could sleep, when Kathleen knocked on the door. She poked her head in.

“There’s a boy downstairs asking to see you.”

“Nick?”

Kathleen nodded. “It’s very late so he can’t stay long.” She gave him a knowing look. “And I’ll be just upstairs.”

Charlie couldn’t help it. His heart flipped over and over in his chest. He discarded his book and hurried past his smirking grandmother, down the hall and down the stairs.

Nick was standing by the front door, wrapped in his thick blue coat and smiling softly at him. Charlie paused on the bottom step of the stairs. Nick’s cheeks were pink, from the cold surely. Charlie readjusted his blanket and realised what a mess he probably looked, his damp hair only just springing back into curls, feet bare and pyjamas on.

“Hi,” said Charlie.

“Hi,” said Nick.

“What are you doing here? It’s almost midnight.”

Nick blinked, undoubtedly having been distracted by Charlie’s sorry appearance. Then his face fell in concern. “Tara told me what happened.”

“Are she and Darcy alright? That whole thing was kind of… intense.”

“They’re okay. Shaken but… Darcy’s always been a bit reckless, but they never mean any harm. It’s just our power, it’s—”

“If you’re going to try to convince me to join your coven again, I—”

“No. No, I promise, that’s not why I’m here. I wanted to apologise, actually.”

Charlie frowned. “What for?”

“For… earlier.” Nick ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry about… what happened.”

“Which part?”

Nick started, caught the smirk on Charlie’s face, then turned even redder. He took a breath. “In the woods.”

“Yeah,” said Charlie. Their eyes met. “Me too.”

“It should never have happened,” said Nick. “I don’t know how it happened.”

“We’ve known each other three days, Nick. I—I like you, a lot, so far… But I can’t—it’s—it’s too soon for anything more… Sorry…”

Nick shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He grinned. “I like you a lot so far, too.”

His eyes were so warm, his voice was so gentle and soft—as soft as his golden-red hair in the hazy light of the hallway. The smattering of freckles across his nose, the gentle curve of his lips as he smiled, the strands of hair which had fallen over his eyes…

“Friends?” Charlie heard himself say.

Nick’s smile faltered for only a second before he nodded. “Friends.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Good,” said Nick. He ducked his head and kicked at the doormat. “Well, I should go. Your gran didn’t seem impressed with such a late visit.”

“She is a very hardworking healthcare professional, Nick, sleep is very precious to her.”

Nick turned to the door and pulled it open. He hesitated. “You are one of us, Charlie,” he said. “I can’t tell you what to do or what to think, but just know you’re not alone.”

The front door snapped shut behind him and Charlie stood there on the stairs, blanket loose around his shoulders, wondering if three days had ever felt like a lifetime before now.

✨

Having put Kathleen Spring’s little ambush out of his head, Richard Argent arrived home that evening in slightly higher spirits. He’d buried himself in the paperwork he’d been putting off for weeks and had a very boring, but very normal afternoon when all was said and done.

He strode up the road to his front door and was about to unlock it when it suddenly flung open by itself. The heeled footsteps behind him made him sigh. He turned, knowing who it would be before he even saw Pauline Jones approach. “You and your tricks.”

“They come in pretty handy,” said Pauline.

“Did you speak to Sarah?”

“We spoke.”

“Good,” said Richard. “We did the right thing, bringing him here. He’s got the gift.”

Pauline sighed. “He is his father’s son.”

“Hmm… unfortunately, he’s also his mother’s son.” Richard slipped his key into the lock. “Are you sure you can get Charlie to do what we need?”

“I don’t have to get him to do anything,” said Pauline, her expression neutral as ever. “The coven will take care of that without them even knowing it.”

✨

The stars, once again, twinkled overhead. He’d gotten used to them now, had accepted they wouldn’t hurt him. The tiny balls of burning light would not fall down upon him while he slept. Instead, he was content to watch them soar patterns across his ceiling until they blurred and his eyes grew heavy. 

Tonight, however, Nick Nelson had agreed to be his friend. And he had agreed to be his.

Charlie groaned and turned away from the stars. Who was he kidding? How many times had he had a crush on a boy and had to keep him at arm’s length? Now, when he knew Nick had the capacity to like him back, why had the universe decided to surround them both with so many strange and confusing and scary things that had nothing to do with sexuality or gender or social expectations?

A flash of light caught his eye and he rolled back over to look once again at his private constellations. A shooting star shot across the room and Charlie gasped out loud. “Whoa!” 

He wished Nick could have seen that. He wished Nick was there. In his room. In his bed. Just lying beside him, looking up at the stars and holding him…

Something clicked. Like wood on wood. 

Charlie sat up slowly and looked around, peering through the dark. It took him a moment to notice exactly what had changed, but then he saw it. On the left side of the mantelpiece, a decorative tile had moved outwards, as if it had come away a little from the painted wooden surroundings.

Charlie switched on his bedside lamp, got out of bed and went to the tile. Carefully, he used both hands to remove it completely. It came away easily, sliding free, revealing a deep niche behind it. The leather-bound book inside seemed familiar. He took it out and he realised it was exactly like the one Tara had shown him at the cottage earlier. Not exactly the same. But it looked handmade and old. 

He unwrapped the thin leather strap and the book fell open in his hands. He sank onto the edge of his bed, stunned. 

The pages were more parchment than paper, yellowing and aged, not entirely uniform, the binding wonky in places. And each page was covered in dark inked scribbles; some hard to make out due to age, others clear as if they’d been penned yesterday—all of it, well, witchy. Spells, enchantments, illustrations of rituals, ingredients, hand movements. Passages of Latin, Greek, English and many languages Charlie did not recognise at all.

Heart beating hard, Charlie turned to the very back page and found, tucked neatly inside the cover, a modern white envelope. He took it out and set the book to one side. His mouth went dry and his hands shook as he read the handwritten name across the front.

Charlie

Before he could overthink it, he flipped over the envelope and ripped it open as neatly as he could. The handwriting was neat and familiar. He recognised it from every birthday card, every note stuck to the fridge, every absence note for school.

My dearest Charlie,

You finding this means I’m gone, and for that I am so sorry. I didn’t want you to have this life, but destiny is not easy to run from. I hoped that keeping this secret would keep you safe, but all I’ve done is left you unprotected. 

I know how alone you must feel, but be careful who you trust. Even those who call themselves friends. 

You have incredible power and strength inside you, but people will come for it.

They will come for you…

Chapter Text

chapter three: take my hand

The sun was beginning to rise when Charlie finally fell asleep. He had spent hours reading his dad’s letter by the light of his bedside lamp. He would look up only to pick up the book instead and flip through its thick pages. He would read just enough to freak himself out, then chuck it away from him again before returning to the letter. Only then he would forget his fear, forget not to be curious, and repeat the action over and over until his eyes were heavy and the pages slipped from his grasp.

The next day was Saturday, but he didn’t leave the house at all. He kept to his room and tried to do some coursework, read exactly two and a half pages of a novel, watched approximately fifty mindless YouTube videos—did anything he could think of that would prevent him from picking up that book or thumbing over that letter yet again.

By the evening time, he had stopped even really reading his dad’s words. Now, he sat in his bed, merely tracing each hand-written letter with his fingertips, imagining his dad sitting down at the desk in the corner, writing them for him.

On Sunday morning, Charlie forced himself to go downstairs and eat breakfast with his grandmother. It was rare she was home at that time of the day and he did feel a bit bad about not utilising his time with her. They sat comfortably together at the kitchen table, spreading jam and crunching toast.

His phone made its first noise of the weekend as he was cleaning the plates. Charlie wiped his hands on a tea towel and fished his phone from his jeans.

NICK (9:24): Morning! How was your Saturday?

Charlie’s heart flipped over. He glanced around. Had Kathleen clocked his undoubtedly lovestruck expression?

That was how it began. 

It didn’t take long for Nick to convince Charlie to meet him at the park. The promise of dog cuddles wasn’t needed to seal the deal but Charlie would take those, too. Kathleen seemed thrilled when he asked her if he could go and meet a friend and she waved him off with a package of sandwiches to share. He had rolled his eyes and scoffed, but was secretly pleased.

It turned out that Nick only lived about a ten minute walk away from Britannia Road, and a neighbourhood park sat somewhere between the two. Nick greeted him with only slightly less enthusiasm than Nellie—and with a lot less slobbery kisses (unfortunately). After a quick game of fetch with a frisbee, the three of them set off on a walk along the river. They stopped at a bench to eat the sandwiches—which turned out to be cheese and pickle which Charlie hated but Nick loved.

The strangest thing about the whole day was the fact that Nick just seemed happy in Charlie’s company. And the second strangest thing was that Charlie had not once thought about the book or his father’s letter all day. 

He had remembered magic existed once or twice, however—when their hands touched or when Nick looked at him for more than a few seconds, when he patted his shoulder, when he brushed bread crumbs off his cheek… In those moments there was no doubt in Charlie’s mind that magic existed. This made sense. This felt good.

But once again that night, Charlie found himself wrapped up in bed, lamp on, his family’s grimoire open on his lap. For that’s what the book was, he knew, as much as he hadn’t wanted to admit it. The Spring family grimoire.

Towards the front of the volume, he found a page titled The Binding Ceremony.

He studied the inky black illustrations of eight crude stick figures drawn around a simplistic bonfire. There was little written about the ceremony, and none of it in English. Perhaps Tara’s grimoire had more details.

Nonetheless, his dreams that night were full of fire.

That hadn’t happened since the first week after his dad’s death. He never actually saw the fire which had consumed his home, only the remains—and they had been bad enough.

He woke early the next morning, his cheek pressed against the pages of the grimoire. Half asleep, he frowned down at the page he had been resting on. This one included a drawing of a candle. It was more of a scribble, really, in the corner as if someone had added it as an afterthought. Beside it were the words: Give me light.

Charlie looked up at the fireplace opposite his bed, at the candle sitting on the mantel. “Give me light,” he whispered.

Nothing happened.

He gave his head a little shake. This was so stupid.

With a sigh, he tried for some more conviction. “Give me light.”

The wick stayed waxy and white. Charlie closed his eyes and focused: “Give me light.”

Light poured into the room. Charlie flung open his eyes.

But the candle was still dull and unused. The light was too strong for that, anyway. Charlie looked around and saw his curtains had opened. The light bathing his room was in fact that of the rising sun.

A laugh escaped his throat. His breath caught.

Had he done that?

Not the sun, he told himself as he got up and ready for the day. The curtains maybe, but he hadn’t made the sun rise and shine, of course he hadn’t. He wasn’t Darcy, who could apparently call upon the elements at will. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to be able to do that. What would be the point?

Uniform on, he tucked the grimoire and the letter safely back into their compartment in the fireplace. He was just double checking his school bag was packed when he saw movement through the window. James appeared in his window across the way. His hair was in wild disarray and, this time, he was the shirtless one. Charlie watched him push open his, then waved. “Morning.”

James jumped. His cheeks flushed bright red as a look of pure terror shot across his face.

Immediately, Charlie cursed his own actions. He could definitely empathise with how disconcerting it was to realise you had been observed without your knowledge. “Curtains!” he cried. “Close! Now!”

James’ window shut with a slam and shattered.

Charlie could only stand there and stare at the mess he had made. He grabbed his curtains and yanked them closed. He threw the rest of his books into his bag, slung it over his shoulder and hurried from his bedroom.

Downstairs in the hall, he flung his coat on and was halfway out the door when Kathleen appeared from the kitchen.

“Don’t you want some breakfast?”

“N-no, thanks,” Charlie managed. “I’m going to be late.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yep. I’m fine. Just… frazzled.”

Kathleen frowned and sighed. “Charlie, I know this hasn’t been easy, losing your father, moving away from home, but I am here for you if you want to talk about anything.”

Charlie chewed at his lip. His grandmother’s face was lined with kindness and wisdom and he owed her a lot. “I really am going to be late,” he heard himself say. “Sorry.”

And he hurried out the door.

✨

“For fuck’s sake,” Ben snapped. “Do you think he saw me?”

James ran a hand through the mess that was his hair and considered whether he’d be able to clean up the glass before his aunt and uncle woke up. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened around Ben, but luckily most of the time Ben only cared about himself. If he suspected that odd things often happened around James, he didn’t care.

That was Ben’s thing. Not caring. Unless it directly affected him.

James drew the curtains and turned to find Ben reaching for him from the tangle of his bedsheets. “We can go again,” said Ben, kissing along James’ hip. “We have time.”

“We don’t.” James pulled away. “You need to get out of here before my aunt and uncle wake up.”

“Ugh!” Ben flopped back over dramatically.

“You’re the one who doesn’t want anyone to know you spend half your nights in my bed.”

It had been three months and somehow James had fallen into this monotony with Ben. To start with it had been fun, spending the final days of Year 12 living for those secluded moments when they could kiss and explore each other. At first it had been a revelation, that Ben Hope of all people might be into him.

Every day James inched closer to ending things. And every day he told himself this would be the last time.

But Ben was nothing if not clingy.

By the time James had showered and changed, Ben had gone from his room, as if he had never been there at all. James sighed and scrutinised the window again. He closed his eyes and focused on the shards of glass scattered across his carpet. A moment later, he opened them again and the glass was back in the frame. A few cracks remained and it wasn’t exactly straight, but it was better than nothing.

As he ate some breakfast, he decided he wasn’t mad at Charlie. How could anyone be mad at him? The new boy had a certain air about him that just made you like him, respect him and want to look after him. Nick hadn’t been exaggerating when he said James got a crush on every boy he met. The thing was, usually they were straight. Or aro/ace.

Isaac greeted him cheerfully from the front desk of the school library. He was always the first one there, even on Monday mornings.

“So,” said James, as they set off to empty the returns trolley. “Did things work out with Charlie and you lot?”

“Us lot? You’re a part of this, too, James.”

“Hmph.” Sometimes it didn’t feel like it. Not to the same extent as the others. He had his own friends, his own life—one which didn’t revolve around magic or his coven. He and Isaac were friends, but he wouldn’t say they were best friends or anything. They mostly talked about books and complained about the noisy Year 7s who hogged the library computers. “Is he going to bind the coven with us, then?”

Isaac sighed. “Things were delicate enough before Darcy went and scared the shit out of him with that storm. But eventually, he’s going to have to.”

✨

Nick woke to the sound of all six of his rugby trophies falling back onto their shelves with a clatter. One toppled off and jolted him awake.

Instead of picking it up, he lay back down and stared at the ceiling, remembering yesterday in all its hazy fondness. Every time he saw Charlie, he was so scared he would find a reason to drop him as a friend, that he would remember how creepy and weird the whole witch coven thing was and run away screaming. But, Nick reminded himself, he hadn’t. They had spent almost the entire day together. 

It had kind of felt like a date.

He let out a sigh. There was no way he was going to get back to sleep now. He turned off his alarm, picked up the fallen trophy and sloped into the bathroom for a cold, cold shower. 

When Nellie was fed and walked, he set off for the tea room. He had been perfecting a new raspberry cheesecake recipe and was eager to see how it had set. He was just peering into the large fridge in the cafe’s kitchen when his mum appeared from the back door.

“Nicky,” she said. “What are you doing here? You know how I feel about you working before school.”

“I just wanted to check…” He pulled the tin out and removed the foil cover.

“Oh, baby, that does look fantastic. Why don’t you wrap some up and take it into school?” Sarah raised her eyebrows suggestively. “Into form?”

“But it would get all smushed.” Nick searched around for a cake stand and carefully slid his creation onto it. “What do you take me for? I can’t bring Charlie smushed cheesecake.”

Sarah laughed. “I’m sure he’d be nothing but thrilled.”

“Hmm… Mr Farouk would probably have something to say about it. Are you trying to get me in trouble, mum?”

“Well then, surely your old mum gets the first slice?”

“Fine.”

They grabbed a couple of forks, then settled down at the table in the corner to sample a generous slice each.”

“This really is incredible, Nicky,” said Sarah, licking her fork. “And just the thing too, with the market coming up on Saturday.”

Rochester had a pretty extensive street market once a month, and each month the tea room was swamped with customers. This was a good thing, of course, but at the same time, utterly exhausting.

“So,” said Nick. “What’s going on between you and Tara’s mum?”

“What do you mean?”

“Things seemed kind of intense in here on Friday night. When Charlie was here.”

Sarah set her fork down and mopped at her mouth with a napkin. “Pauline and I have never really gotten on. It’s been the same way since we were teenagers. Nothing to worry about.”

Nick frowned. He had always thought of Tara’s mum as very similar to his own; kind, firm when she needed to be, and with a good sense of humour. Maybe that was the problem—they were too similar.

“Goodness, baby, you’re going to be late,” said Sarah, glancing at her watch. “You don’t want to miss your favourite time of the day.”

“What?”

“Come on, chop chop, your Charlie will be waiting for you.”

“He isn’t mine .” Nick slung his school bag onto his shoulder and hoped his mum couldn’t see his blushy cheeks.

“Not yet.”

“Mum!”

✨

Despite being in charge of an entire school, Richard was not a morning person. A slice of toast in his mouth, he piled his things into his bag with one hand while the other stirred his coffee. He had dropped far too much milk in it, ruining his morning and his life. 

“Elle!” he yelled through his mouthful of toast and marmalade. “We’re late!”

His daughter entered, arms crossed, uniformed and bag packed. “I’ve been waiting at the door for like five minutes. You’re late.”

Sometimes Richard missed the days when Elle would laugh at his jokes. Now he was lucky if he got an affectionate eye roll. He munched down the rest of his toast and tried to down his milky coffee. “Isn’t that skirt a little short?”

There it was, that eye roll. She pulled her skirt down a little. “So stupid,” she grumbled. “If they didn’t want people to roll their skirts up then they should make better skirts that hang nicely.”

“Hmph,” said Richard, abandoning his coffee. He would just make another when he got to work. “Well, I am the head teacher and you are my daughter so we need to set a good example.”

“That’s not my fault,” said Elle. “I don’t even go to your school anymore. And besides, no one at Truham knows you’re secretly a slob—they’re literally the only people who see you all buttoned up.”

“I’m the boss. I need to be buttoned. Oh, wait a second, Ellie, I forgot I need to get the thingy from the thingy…”

“The thingy… right…” Elle shook her head as her dad disappeared into his office. “I’ll just wait in the car then!”

She opened the front door and was shocked to find a man standing on the step outside. “Grandpa!” Her jump of fright turned into a leap of excitement and she threw her arms around him.

He squeezed her back, chuckling. “How are you doing, sweet pea?”

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s lonely by the lake all by myself.”

Richard appeared at the end of the hall, and froze at the sight of the man stepping inside.

“Richard,” said Elle’s grandpa with a nod.

Her dad recovered quickly and nodded right back. “Hassan.”

“How long are you staying?” Elle asked.

“Not sure yet. I have some business to take care of here in town.”

“You’re retired,” said Richard.

“And? I wanted to see my granddaughter—and son-in-law.”

Elle observed the two men taking up space in the small hallway. The two of them had never gotten along. When she’d been little she’d found it kind of silly, funny even, how her two favourites could be so full of contempt for each other but never come to blows or shout. Now she was older, she did wonder what had happened for it to be this way.

“Well, I’m happy to see you,” she said. She gave her grandpa one last hug, then set out for the car.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Richard dropped his act at once. “Is everything okay?”

“If it’s not,” said Hassan, suddenly serious. “I’ll let you know.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

“That’s gracious of you—considering this is my house.”

And then Richard couldn’t get out of the house quick enough. The second he reached his office at Truham, he picked up his phone and called Pauline. “Why is Hassan here?”

Pauline tsked loudly and he could practically see her shaking her head in exasperation. “I don’t know. He’s your father-in-law, not mine.”

“Could he be onto us?”

“I doubt it. We were very careful, we covered our tracks.”

“I don’t like it,” said Richard. “I don’t trust him at all.”

“You just don’t like him.”

“Because he doesn’t like me.” Richard leaned back in his chair and sighed. “He blames me for Mariam’s death, I know he does.”

“We all have to find someone to blame.”

“Just… keep your eyes open. Please?”

“Fine. Bye, Richard.”

✨

What with Nick’s morning chatter consisting only of memories of yesterday and the cheesecake he had successfully made and sampled, Charlie almost forgot about his destruction of James’ window. 

Almost. 

Twenty minutes later, the bell rang for the end of form and they had to part ways. Things felt so much better, so much less scary when Nick was by his side. Charlie watched him walk away down the corridor until he disappeared with a cheerful wave and Charlie had to head to the common room. He had free periods this morning and he was determined to get some work done.

By break time, he’d written half an essay and so rewarded himself with a walk to the vending machines on the other side of the room. He stood by, counting his change as the girl before him bent down to grab her drink from the tray. She turned to go, but saw Charlie, stopped and smiled.

“Hi,” she said. Her eyes were very large and very blue. “You’re the new boy, right?”

“Oh, um, yeah. I’m Charlie.”

“Imogen.”

“Hi.”

As he fed his coins into the machine, Imogen chatted his ear off about everything he could possibly need to know about Truham, its students and its teachers. “And if you need anything at all, like, help finding classrooms or which toilets to avoid, then you can rely on me.”

“Thanks.” 

Charlie flitted back to his desk and Imogen followed him, chattering all the while. “I’ve seen you talking to Nick, haven’t I?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Are you friends?”

“Yeah, well, we’re in the same form so…”

“Oh my God, you have a crush on him!”

“What? No, I don’t!”

“You so do!” She clutched at his arm in excitement, then dropped her voice. “Don’t worry. I completely understand. I had a crush on him forever before I finally got the courage to ask him out.”

Charlie stared. “You and he… dated?”

“Yeah. For like two months in Year 11, but please, please don’t worry about me—turns out we’re better as friends.”

Charlie let out a breath. “Even if I do have a crush—a big one—it doesn’t mean he likes me back. He probably doesn’t. I shouldn’t get my hopes up just because, for once, someone I have a crush on actually has the capacity to like me back, you know?”

“I dunno,” said Imogen. “You do seem like his type—dark hair, light eyes, kind of nerdy…”

“Hey!”

“I’m just saying, don’t give up hope. I’m rooting for you. You seem lovely and Nick deserves someone lovely.”

“Thanks.”

It took quite a while for Imogen to get her own coursework out and start working alongside him, but the chatter didn’t fizzle out completely. It was nice, her company was nice. She was good background noise, since she only seemed to require him to answer with short, quick bursts of “really?,” “mmhm” and “yeah.”

“So,” said Imogen, half an hour later. “Are you doing anything on Saturday?”

“Nope. Not unless you count coursework as something.”

“I was wondering… well, there’s a market in town this weekend and Mr Argent put me in charge of the school tombola. The performing arts department needs more funding and none of the smelly boys in this school wanted to give up their Saturday. I could really use some help.”

“Am I not a smelly boy?”

“Are you willing to part with your Saturday?”

Charlie considered this.

“Come on!” Imogen batted her eyelashes. “Please? It’ll be so boring on my own.”

“I suppose I can help. I really have nothing else going on.”

“Yay!” she cheered. “You’re not so smelly, after all!”

After all, it wasn’t like she was asking him to join some weird witchy cult. Imogen seemed very normal—chatty and overly cheerful—but normal. And that was just what he wanted his weekend to be.

On his way to third period, Charlie’s second offer of being social came in the form of Tao and Isaac cornering him by the lockers like two peas in a pod. 

“Are you free after school?” asked Tao by way of greeting.

Isaac rolled his eyes as if to say sorry about him. “What Tao means is, we’re having a film night at his tonight. Would you like to come?”

Charlie raised his eyebrows. “Is this another ploy to get me to join your cult?”

“Well…”

Isaac nudged Tao in the ribs before he could continue. “No,” he said. “We just thought you might be interested.”

“Please come,” said Tao. “I have a whole list of films I need to force you to watch. And we’ll probably just order pizza and it’ll be really chill and normal. No magic talk at all if you don’t want that.”

“And,” said Isaac, when Charlie still looked unsure. “Nick’ll be there.”

So… naturally, Charlie agreed to meet Tao, Isaac and the others at the end of the day so they could walk across town to Tao’s house together. 

Charlie really wanted to forget that day in the cottage, when his perception of these people changed. He half wished he could just bully his brain into believing them—because the enthusiasm with which each of them greeted him when he arrived… well, maybe he could accept a lot of things that didn’t make sense, that went against the laws of physics and logic, if he could accept these six people all wanted to be his friend.

Tao and Elle led the way, arms linked, followed by Tara and Darcy who walked hand-in-hand, Darcy chattering away about a game they had made up that lunch time involving the science corridor and an empty water bottle, Tara smiling and laughing, heart eyes aglow. Charlie stayed at the back, behind Nick and Isaac, who walked along quietly together. Isaac’s hands were empty of a book for a change.

“What happened to James?” Charlie asked.

Nick and Isaac turned around, as if only just remembering he was there. Nick reached out an arm and ushered Charlie to walk between him and Isaac. He gave his shoulder an awkward pat and Charlie couldn’t help but giggle. 

“James has his own friends,” said Isaac. “I did invite him, but he wasn’t interested.”

“Why?” Nick’s forehead crinkled. “Why did you ask?”

“Um, well…” Charlie shrugged. “I just saw he wasn’t here and he’s a part of your coven, isn’t he? I just assumed he would be here too.”

Nick looked at Isaac, his eyes wide with… panic? Charlie looked between the two of them in confusion.

Isaac sighed, rolled his eyes, then asked very slowly and plainly, “Did you want James to be here, Charlie?”

“What?”

Nick made a strange choking noise and quickly looked away. “Isaac…”

“Not specifically,” said Charlie. “What’s going on? I don’t understand.”

Isaac shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Charlie. Nick’s just being hopeless. And Nick, stop being a jealous dickhead, there’s no need for it.”

“Can we please just forget I said anything?” Nick whined. “Charlie, tell him.”

“I still don’t even really know what we’re talking about, so sure.” Charlie offered Nick a comforting smile, and he seemed to relax a little. “So… any news on that cheesecake of yours?”

“Oh my god, yes! Mum texted me earlier—it all got sold before midday so she’s had to make more.”

“That’s so cool, Nick.”

“You have to come and try some. I’ll get you a free slice—or a whole one if you want.”

Charlie laughed, then caught his own excessive volume and made an effort to shut up. Wow, he was so gone for this boy.

They piled into Tao’s house and were greeted by a grumpy Bean yowling for dinner.

“Aw, hi, Beanie-boy,” said Elle, scooping the cat into her arms. “You and Tao are so alike, hey?”

Tao pouted and Elle laughed, having been proved correct.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you some dinner,” said Elle, petting Bean’s fluffy head. The cat purred loudly as Elle carried him into the kitchen.

“Your cat is so cute,” said Charlie, as he followed the others into the living room.

“Hmph, and he knows it,” said Tao, though he seemed pleased.

Charlie sank onto the edge of a large armchair in the corner of the room and blinked in fuzzy alarm when Nick flopped down right beside him. He looked around and realised there was literally nowhere else for him to sit, their friends having occupied the sofa and the other chair, but still, Charlie would have liked a warning so his heart didn’t explode, please and thank you.

“Does your gran have any pets?” asked Nick.

“No,” said Charlie. “I’ve never had a pet. My dad didn’t like animals.” 

Nick looked so sad at this that Charlie felt the need to rectify it at once.

“Even if I had, it probably wouldn’t have survived the fire, anyway.” 

Charlie had well and truly misjudged how this thought might affect Nick’s sadness. He patted Nick’s knee and grimaced. “Sorry.”

“You can come and play with Nellie whenever you like,” said Nick, blinking several times quite fast.

“Oh. Um, okay. I’d love to. Thanks.”

Charlie was just trying to hide his blushy cheeks with his hands when he realised the rest of his new friends had fallen silent. Elle had returned and she and the others were all watching him and Nick, with disgustingly knowing looks on their faces.

“Um,” said Charlie, flustered. “I’m just gonna…”

“Help me with the drinks!” said Darcy, leaping to their feet. “Let’s see what we can find in Yan’s alcohol cupboard.”

Charlie let Darcy pull him from the room, into the kitchen where Bean was chomping away at his dinner. While Charlie found glasses, Darcy raided the topmost cupboard and gathered all the bottles they could find. 

Charlie laughed. “I think that might be a bit too much choice.”

“What? Oh, no, who said anything about choices? These are all going in the same glass.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“I dunno.” Darcy shrugged. “Let’s find out.”

Charlie perched on the counter and watched Darcy pour a seemingly unending variety of liquids into a cup and stir it. It turned into a sickly sort of green colour. They held it out to him. The smell hit him first. 

“I’m not drinking that,” he giggled. “You made it. You should taste it first.”

Darcy squinted down at their concoction, thought for a second, then took two big gulps. Charlie watched their face carefully, prepared to hold their hair back while they puked—but nothing… Until Darcy grinned. “It’s great! I am a genius. Are you sure you don’t want to try?”

In the end, Charlie tried half a sip and knew he had made the right decision. It was vile. He turned to the fridge and gathered the Coke, Fanta and Sprite bottles. Much safer options.

“Hey, Charlie,” said Darcy. They had hopped up to sit on the counter, their expression suddenly serious.

“What’s up? You’re not going to be sick, are you?”

“No. I don’t think so, anyway… No, I just…” They hesitated. “I know we said we wouldn’t talk about it but… do you really not want to bind the coven with us?”

Charlie forced himself not to roll his eyes. He reaffirmed his grip around the three large bottles in his arms and sighed. “I don’t even know what that really even means.”

“That’s the thing,” said Darcy, their gaze cast downwards at their socked feet. “None of us really know, either. And I… I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”

“Really? But Tara is so gung ho about it.”

Darcy grimaced. “Yeah, I know. And I get why, I do. It’s just… doesn’t it feel a bit… icky to be bound to someone like that? Even if they are my friends. Tao was kind of shaken by that fire in the cafe, but he and Elle feel the same way. They don’t know if Tara’s got it right, either.” They lifted their head. “I’m just saying, you’re not alone in having reservations.”

“We’re ordering pizza!” came Tao’s shout from the other room. Darcy hopped off the counter and skipped from the kitchen. Charlie watched them go, thinking that even though Darcy had a point, the alternative was worrying, too.

An hour later, when the seven of them were lounging around the living room, eating pizza, a film playing on the television, it was easy to forget any of the reasons Charlie had told himself not to engage with these people. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent the evening surrounded by a group of friends who all seemed to like him. When was the last time he’d even been to a sleepover?

Isaac was curled in the other chair, his head in Morgan is My Name by Sophie Keetch. Tara kept looking between the television and Darcy on the sofa beside her, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Darcy and Elle were whispering together, heads bent forward. Tao hissed at them to be quiet, but then Elle ushered him into the fold and he fell into the conversation, too. This only seemed to worry Tara more.

The film of choice was slow, boring and the minimal dialogue was in Swedish. But Charlie didn’t really mind. He had much more favourable things to occupy his thoughts. He had managed two entire slices of pizza and he was feeling pretty warm and cosy. He and Nick were sitting, squished together in their shared armchair, and Charlie couldn’t stop thinking about the way Nick smelled, how warm he was beside him, the way his foot brushed his each time one of them moved. 

The whispers from the sofa increased and Charlie wondered for a hot second whether they were gossiping about him and Nick.

“What are you three whispering about?” asked Nick, as if he had read Charlie’s mind.

“Nothing!” said Darcy, quickly moving away from the others.

“None of your business,” said Tao.

Elle merely frowned, clearly deep in thought. 

Nick sighed and scooted off the chair. “Want to get another drink?”

“Okay,” said Charlie.

Back in the kitchen, Bean had disappeared, bowl licked clean. Nick put the kettle on while Charlie located mugs and tea bags. Charlie grabbed some teaspoons from the drawer, chuckling softly to himself. Nick glanced at him, amused.

“Ignore me,” said Charlie, shaking his head.

“I will not,” said Nick. “You can’t make me.”

Charlie grinned. “How did you know I fancied a cup of tea?”

“Oh, um, I didn’t. I should have asked first, sorry.”

“Nick, I literally just told you that’s what I wanted.”

“Right. Yeah, well, I must have just been able to sense it, then. Nothing better to calm me down than a nice cup of tea.”

Charlie frowned. “Why do you need calming down? What’s up?”

“Nothing,” said Nick. He let out a sigh and poured the water.

“Is it the others? Their whispering?” 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into them.”

“I do,” said Charlie. “They’re scared. That’s all.”

Nick squished the teabags and dropped them into the bin. “Doesn’t excuse them treating you like they have been.”

“I’m fine, Nick, really. I can look after myself.”

Nick turned to smile at him. “I know.” His cheeks were rosy, his hands clasped around his mug.

Charlie reached for his own tea, to stir it, but the spoon had vanished. “Wait, where—?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Nick.

Charlie followed his gaze. The two teaspoons had left the kitchen counter to float above their heads. Nick and Charlie stared at the spoons tumbling slowly, almost gracefully, in midair. They looked back down at each other and burst into giggles.

Nick reached for one spoon but it only rose higher. “Hey, come back,” he gasped, laughing.

Charlie made a grab for the other spoon but the pair drifted so high that they touched the ceiling. “Oh no, Nick, they’re getting away!” 

“I think maybe they’re happy up there,” said Nick, gazing at the cutlery fondly. “Maybe they’ve longed to see what it’s like.”

“It’s probably way more interesting than being shut in the drawer all the time.” Charlie picked up his tea and was considering getting another spoon to stir it with (would this one just join the others on the ceiling?) when — “Hey!”

Charlie jumped. 

The mug of tea in his hands exploded. 

“Ow, fuck!”

Hot tea splashed over him and shards of mug scattered everywhere.

Tao and Elle had appeared in the doorway, looking from the suspended spoons to the mess Charlie had made in alarm. Charlie stared at the slim cut the broken mug had made across his palm. The red swam before his eyes. He looked up at Nick—his face was pale with shock.

“Charlie, are you—?”

There was a tinkling clatter. The spoons dropped to the floor into the spilt tea. Charlie pushed past Tao and Elle and fled the kitchen.

“Charlie?” With a final glare at his friends, Nick hurried after him. 

He found him in the hallway, shrugging on his coat and gathering his bag. “Charlie, wait a minute.” Nick reached to touch his arm, but pulled himself back. “Please, just wait.”

Charlie swung his school bag onto his back and turned to face him. The fear and the shame was clear across his beautiful features. “I did that.” Charlie’s voice was hoarse. “Tao and Elle made me jump and I did that. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to… Why is this happening?”

Nick let himself step forward. He tentatively grasped Charlie’s arms and looked into his panicked blue eyes. He wanted to say because of magic, but he knew Charlie didn’t need to hear him say it again.  “Let’s just go somewhere else,” said Nick. “Get out of here. I can walk you home if you like or…”

“Or? I don’t really want to go back to my gran’s right now.”

“Or,” said Nick. “You could come to mine? My mum’ll be at the cafe until late so we’ll have the house to ourselves. And,” he added. “You can hang out with Nellie again.”

Charlie smiled weakly. “You had me at dog cuddles.”

“They really do fix everything.”

Nick gathered his own things and the two of them had left the house and were down the road before Nick realised they hadn’t so much as said goodbye to the others. He shot them a quick message in the group chat as they walked back through town.

“You’re shivering,” said Nick. “I would offer you my coat if I was wearing one and you weren’t.”

Charlie shrugged. “I just run cold, always have done. I’m fine. Thanks for the offer, though.”

It was nice, Nick thought, to walk with someone and not have to talk. Maybe he didn’t need a cup of tea to calm him down anymore, not when Charlie Spring was in his life. 

They turned the corner onto River Crescent and Charlie finally broke the quiet. “How do I stop it? Randomly breaking things?”

“Charlie,” Nick sighed. “You’re asking the wrong person. Before you arrived I was breaking shit all over the place. I tried loads of things: meditation, cutting out caffeine, breathing exercises, but none of it helped.”

“What about that grounding thing you taught me in the woods? That sort of worked before. I used it to stop the storm.”

“You did?”

Charlie nodded, as if this wasn’t a massive deal.

“I wish I could have seen it,” said Nick. “Sounded pretty badass.”

“Hmph.” Charlie blushed. “Maybe.”

✨

It was almost closing time and Sarah had just put another four raspberry cheesecakes in the fridge to set when Hassan Eskander stepped into the tea room. Now, instead of getting her place of work cleaned up so she could go home, Sarah was sitting at a table with a cup of tea going cold between her palms.

“She used a rune spell,” she explained. “I nearly drowned on the floor right over there.” She nodded to the spot but Hassan didn’t even look around. He had never been an expressive man. He let her words pass over him as if she had been describing the weather.

“That’s impossible,” he said. “Everyone in your coven was stripped of their power.”

“Then she found a way around that,” said Sarah. “To threaten me into silence.”

“But why would she be threatening you?”

Sarah sighed. “I was talking to Charlie Spring about his parents. She was clearly afraid I would say something stupid.”

“Did you?”

“No. Of course not. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish closing up so I can go back home to my son and my dog. Goodnight, Hassan. It was good to see you.”

✨

Even as he and Elle cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, Tao still didn’t really understand what they had done wrong. Had their sudden arrival really made Charlie jump so badly he smashed that mug? The full extent of Charlie’s magic was only just presenting itself, it seemed. When he’d momentarily brushed up against it at the cafe, Tao hadn’t known how to feel. It had been different, crackly, not like any of the others’ magic. Especially not like Elle’s. Hers was smooth and vibrant and kind of fluttery against his own.

Elle picked up the fallen spoons and frowned at them. “I don’t think I could make both of these float at the same time if I wanted to.”

“I’m not sure if Nick and Charlie wanted to,” said Tao. “I feel a bit bad. I invited him so he would feel more comfortable, more like one of us. But of course, I had to go and ruin it.”

Elle sighed. “You haven’t ruined it. We didn’t scare him on purpose. He’s just on edge, I suppose.”

Tao reached for Nick’s abandoned tea and took a sip. Then grimaced at the access of sugar. He tipped it down the sink as Tara, Darcy and Isaac entered.

“What happened? Did Nick and Charlie leave?” Tara folded her arms and raised her eyebrows. “What did you do?”

“Who says we did anything?” said Elle.

“Then why does Tao look so guilty?”

Tao took a breath and explained what had happened: how they had walked in on Nick and Charlie doing magic with spoons, how they had accidentally made Charlie jump, causing him to make his tea explode, how Nick had glared at them both before following Charlie from the house.

Darcy settled on the counter, deep in thought, while Tara and Isaac exchanged worried looks.

“We need to bind the coven,” said Tara. “As soon as possible. Charlie isn’t the only one who’s scared.”

Elle caught Darcy’s eye and an understanding passed between them.

“Am I about to find out what you lot have been whispering about all evening?” said Tara.

Darcy shifted awkwardly. “Well… the thing is…”

“We don’t want to bind the coven,” said Elle.

Tara blinked. “What? Why not?”

“Not if it means we’ll all be linked together.” Elle studied her nails. “No offence, but I don’t want anyone else having any say in what I can and can’t do.”

“That’s not what this is—”

“But how do you know? Just because you found some old scribbles from your ancestors, Tara, doesn’t mean you’re the authority on this.”

“I know that!” Tara took a deep breath. “I know, okay? I’m just trying my best with what we have—and things keep happening. It’s too risky not to bind. We’ll be stronger together. We can use it better together.”

“What for?” said Elle. “World peace? Why can’t we just enjoy it?”

“Because it’s dangerous and selfish,” said Isaac.

“Well, maybe I’m fine with that.”

Tao stared at her in shock along with the other three. The ticking of the kitchen clock was the only thing to break the silence. Elle seemed to realise what she had said, shrugged and looked away.

“Maybe Tara’s right,” said Tao. “The extra power has been nice but that fire didn’t exactly feel great. I could have hurt Charlie before we even got a chance to be friends. And tonight, we were lucky he only got a little cut.”

“I thought we were on the same page with this,” said Elle.

“We were, I just think maybe it would be safer if…”

Elle dropped the spoons onto the side. “Tao!” 

“I’m sorry—Elle, wait!”

The front door opened and shut before Tao could move. He stood there, dread smothering his rising panic.

Isaac patted Tao’s shoulder. “Let her cool down.”

“Darcy?” said Tara, quietly. “Do you feel the same?”

Darcy slid off the counter. “I just think we need to really consider what we’re getting ourselves into. We basically know nothing about this binding ritual. What if there are some freaky weird side effects? What if we all grow extra limbs or turn green? What then, Tara?”

She pulled Darcy into her arms and Darcy cuddled in close. “Then we’ll figure it out together like we always do.”

✨

“Boof!” said Nellie the moment Nick and Charlie stepped inside. “Boof!”

“Hi, Nellie!” Charlie bent to accept her excitable affection and buried his face in her soft fluff. “It’s good to see you again. Have you been such a good girl? You’re such a good girl!” 

A rough doggy tongue lapped at his hand and he remembered the cut. It wasn’t deep, but the blood had crusted. He clenched and unclenched his fist, wincing.

“We should probably clean that,” said Nick, kicking off his shoes.

Charlie let his hand fall to his side. “It’s fine.” He tried to distract by removing his coat and bag and hanging them on a hook. He discarded his shoes beside Nick’s.

Nellie whined, big brown eyes gazing up at him. Nick laughed. “Even Nellie knows you’re lying, Charlie. Come on, we have a first aid kit in the kitchen.”

He led the way through into the kitchen, and Charlie followed, whinging all the way. “I don’t need a first aid kit.”

“You need a plaster.”

“It’s not that bad, Nick, really. It doesn’t even hurt.”

Charlie sighed and leaned against the counter as moodily as he could. He watched Nick reach to bring down the box from the topmost cupboard, appreciating the view and secretly appreciating being cared for so attentively.

“Here,” said Nick. He tore open an antiseptic wipe and gestured for Charlie to hold out his hand. 

He rolled his eyes but did as he was told, heart thudding wildly. Nick gently dabbed at the cut. It stung a little but Charlie barely noticed. He suspected his cheeks must be bright red, though he noticed Nick’s were rather rosy too. 

“Thanks,” Charlie murmured when Nick was finally satisfied. He allowed Charlie to go without a plaster since the location was a bit impractical.

“You’re welcome, I suppose. Despite all the whinging.” Nick packed away the medical supplies. “Tea? We never got to finish our other cups.”

“Oh. Um… no, that’s okay. You have one, though.”

Once Nellie was sufficiently fussed, tea was made (their teaspoons stayed flat on the counter this time) and water was poured, they left Nellie to enjoy her dinner and brought their drinks upstairs into Nick’s bedroom. 

“Wow,” said Charlie. “Your bedroom is so cool. I like your fairy lights.”

“Huh, thanks,” said Nick. “I put them up for Christmas ages ago and forgot to take them down. It would feel weird if I took them down now.”

“You have so many rugby trophies!” Charlie perused the shelf above the television. “The only trophy I have is from a maths competition when I was nine.”

Nick smirked. “So it’s not a new development then? You being such a massive nerd.”

“Oh, I’ve always been this way,” said Charlie, giggling. He sank onto the bed beside Nick and set his water down beside his tea. “Gay nerd for life, baby.”

Nick made a strange noise; a mix between a laugh, a gasp and a cough. He leapt up from the bed and Charlie realised what he had said. And that it had gotten Nick flustered.

“Want to play Mario Kart?”

Good. This was good, Charlie thought as the game loaded. He could play Mario Kart. He could win every race. He could sit and laugh and tease his crush relentlessly, without fear of him taking offence or ditching him as a friend because of something he did or said. Whether he had a crush or not—though, there was no use denying it at this point—somewhere between Charlie stepping into Nellie’s Tea Room and right now, Nick Nelson had become the best friend he’d ever had.

“Come on!” he cried. “Can’t you just let me win one game?”

“You get to be good at real sports, I get to be good at fake ones.”

“No, you’re just good at everything,” said Nick. “Let’s see—you’re good at video games, maths, befriending dogs, and you probably are good at sport, too, you run really fast.”

“Stop it!” Charlie bowled them both over onto the bed, his hand over Nick’s mouth. “I’m crap at everything, I swear.”

Nick shook his head and made a muffled sound of discontent. Charlie giggled and let his hand fall away.

“I don’t believe you,” Nick whispered. His gaze drifted to Charlie’s hand, lying between them on the duvet. For a second, Charlie thought he was going to reach out and take it. 

For a second, Charlie considered taking his.

But then Nick rolled over onto his back and the moment passed. Charlie followed suit with a sigh. The fairy lights twinkled above their heads. Charlie half expected them to start shooting sparks.

And there it was, yet again, magic rearing its ugly, confusing head in Charlie’s thoughts.

“How did you find out you were a witch?”

Nick turned the TV off and chucked the controllers aside. “I was the last one Tara found before you. We were in Paris on a school trip at the end of Year 11. This guy in my year, Ben Hope, was being a dick to my cousin, James, and I maybe have sort of accidentally pushed him into the Seine.”

“Wait. James is your cousin?”

“Yeah,” said Nick. “His mum was my dad’s sister. But the thing is, I wasn’t close enough to even pretend I’d pushed Ben with my hands. Tara and Darcy were there and saw everything. They all ambushed me in the hotel room afterwards and told me everything.”

“And you believed them? Straight away?”

Nick shrugged. “Kind of. Not straight away, but pretty quickly, I suppose. I had done loads of smaller stuff by accident before then. Being a witch, it made everything that had happened make sense. And with their help, I managed to stop yeeting people into rivers, anyway.”

“Was he okay? The guy?”

“Oh, he was fine. Got the flu, I think, but serves him right. He’s a dick.”

Charlie lapsed into a contemplative silence. Nick rolled back onto his side and reached out to touch his arm. Just a light brush of fingertips, but it was enough to send each hair on end.

“Trust me,” said Nick softly. “I’ve broken a few mugs in the last year. My mum thinks I went through a super clumsy phase.”

“Have you not asked her about it? The magic stuff? You said she was a witch, too. Surely she could help.”

Nick shook his head. “I can’t. We’re not really supposed to be practising magic. Even if she was sympathetic, she could get in loads of trouble on our behalf.”

“Alright, alright,” said Charlie, turning over to face him. “But what about your grimoire? Have you looked for yours?”

“Of course. We’ve all searched our houses several times over, but never found anything. Tara found hers by accident. My mum’s hidden ours really well. But that makes sense, since magic was forbidden. She wouldn’t want anyone to find it, least of all me.”

“And magic was forbidden because of an accident. Tara said the people who died… they were…”

Nick winced. “Our parents, yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that. I just didn’t want to scare you any more than we already had.”

“It’s alright. It’s just… I never knew what happened to my mum. Only that she had some sort of terrible accident. And now I know it was magic that killed her… I assume it was magic anyway.”

“The official story is that a group of young people were partying in an old barn not far from here, and there was a fire. My dad was there, and Tara’s and Darcy’s and Tao’s and Isaac’s. Elle’s mum and both of James’ parents.” Nick frowned. “I’m beginning to think maybe that’s what we risk repeating, if we don’t bind our coven. That build up of excess power—maybe that’s what killed half an entire coven. Half of us… that would be…” Nick’s voice hitched and he swallowed. “I can’t even imagine what they must have gone through. It’s probably for the best that they didn’t do magic after that, but it tore the rest of them apart.”

“But what does it even mean, to bind the coven? What will happen?”

“Well, we’re not entirely sure of the specifics. Every witch is born into a coven, that’s what Tara’s grimoire says. Ours is made up of our eight families. A coven has more power than any one person can handle. Binding it is the only way we can utilise all that power by keeping it under control.”

“Darcy seems afraid it’ll… I dunno, take away their autonomy.”

“I suppose it might,” said Nick. “But only when it comes to magic; which I don’t think is a bad thing, personally.”

Lying there on Nick’s bed, his scent all around him, his soft, warm voice explaining these things, it seemed a little less overwhelming. Nick was so sincere about everything that Charlie couldn’t help but listen to and trust him.

“Whenever I’ve done bits of magic alone, it’s always been kind of scary and, like, I can’t control it,” said Charlie. “But then when we’ve done it together, it’s been fine. Great, even. I’ve liked it when we’ve done magic together.”

The rosiness of Nick’s cheeks grew. His eyes were so soft and brown, the freckles across his cheeks like golden stardust. “Me too,” he whispered. “But you don’t need me to do magic. With time, I promise, you’ll get better at not breaking things. Even without binding the coven.” He chewed at his lip for a moment, then, much to Charlie’s disdain, sat up. Charlie followed him hesitantly as Nick looked around his room. “There is one thing I can usually do without breaking anything.”

Charlie’s heart flipped over. “Show me.”

Nick reached between the bed and the bedside table. The fairy lights blinked out. Nick lifted the plug and brought it with him to sit beside Charlie on the bed again. He held it out for Charlie to take. 

“Are you serious?”

“Um, where is your can-do attitude?”

“Oh, she left long ago. Seriously, Nick, I don’t want to explode your lights.”

“You won’t.”

“I don’t know what I might do—I broke that mug because Tao and Elle snuck up on me, I broke James’ window. I break things—that’s what I do.”

“You stopped that storm. You stopped it from causing any more damage.”

“But that—I hated that, Nick. It didn’t feel good or—or safe. I barely knew what I was doing.”

“Hey.” Nick lowered his voice and Charlie took a breath. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I just… I hate seeing you so scared and I don’t know what else to do.”

“Take my hand.”

Nick blinked. He looked down at Charlie’s outstretched hand, then took it. His palm was warm and a little sweaty, though Charlie didn’t mind.

“Together, then?”

Charlie nodded.

“Okay,” said Nick. “I’m going to pick up the plug and then we’re going to turn the lights on. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

With his free hand, Nick picked up the plug. At once, that warm, blanketing sensation wrapped around Charlie and he gasped. Each of the lights across Nick’s ceiling twinkled into life. A shocked laugh escaped Charlie’s throat. 

Nick grinned, delighted. “Magic is flowing from us, through the wire, to the lights.” He laughed. “This is… better. Usually, when I do this on my own, I can only keep it up for like a minute at most.”

Charlie snorted. The lights flickered. He let Nick’s hand go and the fairy lights dulled once again. Nick held out the plug and raised a mischievous eyebrow.  “You think you can keep it up longer than me?”

“Is that a challenge, Nicholas?” Charlie took the plug and held it in both hands. He could feel the slight warmth of the three metal prongs.

“Concentrate on the power.”

Charlie sat cross-legged on the bed and closed his eyes.

“Do you feel it?” came Nick’s voice.

“Yes, I feel it. Now shush so I can focus.”

“Okay, sorry.”

The warm tingling seemed to stretch from the tips of his fingers, up his arms, down his back, until he shivered and Nick gasped. “Charlie. Open your eyes.”

He did as he was told, just in time to see the fairy lights flicker on… then off again. His breath caught. “Shit,” he gasped, shoulders tense.

“Okay,” said Nick. “Breathe.”

Charlie wished he would take his hand again. He was way too far away.

The lights flickered once more, glowing a soft yellow.

“Slowly,” Nick whispered. “Deep breaths.”

He tried, he really did. But his chest only tightened. Sweat prickled at his hairline and he screwed his eyes shut.

“Hey, no. Breathe with me, baby. You’re okay. It’s okay… Look at me.”

Charlie opened his eyes slowly, cautiously. The plug warm between his hands, he focused on Nick; his hair, his eyes, his nose, his lips… With their eyes locked, the fairy lights glowed brighter, steady and strong. Until they were a collection of mini, blazing suns. A thrumming beat, like the one inside his chest, filled Charlie’s hands. Through the plug, through the floor, through the earth and the sky and everything in between. He laughed. A breeze ruffled through the room, lifting their hair, like someone had left the window open on a spring day.

He barely heard the tiny explosions. But he felt the shift in power. 

He had it grasped between his fingers—and then it was yanked from him, like a wild animal desperate to fly free.

Charlie blinked up at the scorch marks now marring a pattern across the ceiling. He tossed the plug aside and scrambled to his feet. “Sorry,” he gasped. He trapped his hands under his arms where they could do no more damage. “I’m so sorry! I told you this was a bad idea. I’ll buy you new lights, I—”

Nick’s wide eyes softened. “Don’t worry about it. There’s no need to apologise.”

“But there is! I do! This is all my fault, I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”

And once again, Nick watched Charlie turn around and flee from the room, fear and shame clouding his blue, blue eyes.

Chapter Text

chapter four: our journey begins

The streetlights along the Esplanade had been fixed, and all along it, stalls had been set out offering a plethora of goods including food, drink, clothing and furniture. Families wove between a bouncy castle and the face painting stand to the Truham Grammar tombola stall. 

Charlie assured his grandmother he would be okay on his own, then waved her off to join Imogen. He found her beneath a large banner depicting the school crest. The table in front of her was stacked high with the usual prizes one might see at a tombola, as well as some “adults only” prizes which seemed to include a mega pack of condoms and the biggest bottle of lube Charlie had ever seen.

“Charlie!” Imogen grabbed his hands and dragged him behind the table. “I can’t believe you actually came. I thought Tao or someone might have turned you off.”

“I’m not so fickle. We’re friends, right?”

“Oh, yes, definitely.” Her wide smile remained as she talked him through the prices, the money tin and the ticket numbering system. “I did ask Mr Argent if the adults-only prizes were appropriate for a school tombola but he just laughed. I’m not sure what we’re gonna do if a child wins them. I suppose they could just pick something else, but then sir said that’s not allowed so…”

“Is he here?” Charlie looked around sarcastically. “I don’t see him. We can break the rules as much as we like.”

“I like your thinking.” Imogen giggled. “Anyway, it’s £2 per ticket and there’s, like, a one in five chance of winning something. If they don’t, then these are the consolation prizes—” She shook a box of mini Haribo sweet packets at him. “The biggest challenge is going to be not eating all these ourselves. Other than that, easy.”

“Great. Easy is exactly what I need today.”

Things had been kind of odd over the last four days.

Each morning, Charlie still sat beside Nick in form, and on Tuesday, Nick’s guilt had been palpable, even though he had done nothing wrong. Charlie had reminded him of that fact again and again—it had been he, Charlie, who should have brought a peace offering. But Nick had presented him with a slice of raspberry cheesecake wrapped in clingfilm, carried carefully by hand all the way from the cafe, freshly set that morning. He’d plucked a fork from his blazer pocket and, well, how could Charlie crush Nick’s adorable, golden retriever soul? In the end, they’d had to scoff the cheesecake down as a team effort, since they didn’t think Mr Farouk would have approved.

He had continued to spend lunchtimes with Tao and Isaac in the common room. He had watched from a cautious distance as Tao grumbled about his falling out with Elle—which Charlie had a feeling might have been something to do with him—and then watched Tao’s relief blossom when things began to clear up between them. By Friday, Tao was back to blushing and giggling over his phone, while Isaac read and Charlie concentrated on his lunch.

But apart from that, everyone else seemed to be giving Charlie a wide berth—and none of them mentioned magic once. Sometimes he would catch one of them watching him when they thought he wasn’t looking. When he caught Nick doing this, he didn’t mind so much, but he could tell they were all still waiting on him—to make an unthinkable decision.

On the other hand, Imogen had no reason to give him any such looks.

The weather wasn’t too cold and they were both pretty comfortable in their coats. They had a lovely day, watching people pass the tombola, and sometimes stopping to play. The prizes ranged from shit to very shit, though many people stopped to chuckle, scoff or tut at the adults-only offerings. A grumpy old lady muttered distastefully when she won a four-pack of loo rolls, but one little boy was thrilled when he won a tin of tomato soup.

Two hours in, Imogen nipped across the road to brave the Port-a-Loos, leaving Charlie to tend the stall alone. He found he actually enjoyed it. He had something to do with his hands, and with his brain. He waved off a ruddy-cheeked man in a flat cap (who had won a toilet brush), only for him to be replaced with Tara. “I’ll have a go.”

“Two pounds, then, please.”

“How did you get roped into volunteering?” she asked, handing over her money.

“Nobody roped me in. I said I’d do it because I wanted to.” Charlie sighed. “If Imogen’s a witch you’d better tell me now or I swear…”

“No, no. Well… I don’t think she is.” Tara shrugged. “Look, Nick told me about what happened. About the fairy lights.”

“He did?”

“Please, don’t be too mad at him. He’s struggling with this, too.”

“I’m not mad at Nick,” said Charlie, defensive. “He’s been nothing but lovely to me. But what you’re asking me to do, I can’t just blindly agree to it, okay?”

“You’re scared,” said Tara. “I’m scared. We’re all scared. But the truth is, we really need you. I’m sorry, but there’s no one else. The Springs are a part of this, so you are, too.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “What number did you get?”

“What?” Tara remembered the paper ticket she had selected from the tub. “342.”

“Nice.” Charlie snorted. “That’s the condoms. Enjoy.” He grinned as Tara saw the matching label taped over the box.

“Wow,” she said, picking up her prize. “Can’t I trade them for something else?”

“Nope, sorry. That’s against the rules.”

“Not even for the beans?”

“It’s the condoms or nothing, I’m afraid. If you really want the beans you could pay another two pounds and try again?”

“No, I’m good. Maybe we could make balloon puppets, or…” She looked back up at Charlie. And held out the box to him. “Here. You can have them.”

He batted her hand away. “You think I have a use for them?”

“More use than a complete lesbian, Charlie.” She pushed the box into his hands and stepped away before he could shove them back at her.

“Um, well, thanks,” he said. “They’re probably going to go out of date, though.”

“Hmm…” Tara lifted her eyebrows. “I’m not so sure about…” And with that, she wandered away, giggling to herself, leaving Charlie still bewildered when Imogen returned.

✨

It was nice to see his friends had gotten over their disagreement reasonably quickly. Isaac was used to Tao and Elle’s sometimes monthly spats, during which he’d be forced to endure Tao’s constant pouty despair and Elle’s attempts at non-direct communication. At least now, with Charlie there, this four-day Tao/Elle crisis had not had to be weathered alone, thank goodness.

And now it was over. And now Isaac stood with Darcy, watching as Tao and Elle battled it out over a game of ring toss at the Rochester market. They had both paid for ten throws each and it had quickly become a competition. To start with, they had at least tried to pretend they were throwing normally, but by the end they weren’t even looking at the posts anymore, instead letting their magic do all the work. 

“Hey, guys!” James appeared and stepped right up beside Tao’s shoulder. 

As he went to throw his final ring, Tao jumped. “Ugh! James!” The ring soared and clattered down the back of the stand.

“Sorry!”

“Yes!” Elle exclaimed. “Thank you, James! I won!” She threw her arms around Tao and kissed his grumpy cheek.

“Want to get some lunch?” asked James. “My friends ditched me for McDonald’s again.”

“Oh, yes, please!” Darcy hooked her arm around James’. “Lead us to the food, good sir!”

The ring toss man tried to hand over a giant stuffed dolphin but Tao and Elle had already followed along, hand in hand, unaware of anyone but each other. “Did she not want her prize?”

“I’ll take it.”

The man shrugged and handed the dolphin to Isaac. “Thanks.”

Isaac tucked the toy under his arm and hurried to catch up with his friends. He ducked through a swarm of giddy thirteen-year-olds and ran headlong into someone coming the other way. “Sorry.” The man’s deep brown eyes, wrinkled around the edges, considered him for only half a second before he strode away again.

He found the others and the five of them clustered around a picnic bench amid a circle of food vendors to eat. Darcy pocketed her phone with a huff and turned to her container of chips. “Sorry, Tara, I’m not waiting for you to eat—I’m so hungry!”

As they tucked in, Isaac felt the itch to take his book out. He had kept it in his bag all day, but his friends’ quiet chewing was not as comfortable as it usually was. There was something just under the surface, wanting to be discussed, though they had been discussing little else for the last two weeks. Eventually, of course, that was where the chatter went when it finally started up again.

“Everything’s been out of whack since Charlie got here,” said James. “You know he broke my window? Completely shattered it.”

“He didn’t mean to,” said Isaac. “I think we should listen to Tara. She’s the one with the rule book.”

“We just need to practise more,” said Darcy. “More power just requires more practice.”

James stared at them. “You started a monsoon and couldn’t stop it.”

“It was not a monsoon. It was just a teeny, tiny thunderstorm.”

Isaac sighed. Here they were yet again, going round and round in circles. He didn’t see why they couldn’t just agree to get the stupid ritual over and done with. If only so they could stop causing potentially dangerous events.

When they were halfway done, Tara joined them. She took the offered food container from Darcy and gasped in appreciation. “Oh my god, thank you, my love.” She slid onto the bench, kissed Darcy, then dove into her chips.

Once again, they fell into a strange quiet. Things had been only a little tense between Tara and Darcy—but in Isaac’s opinion, they had seemed remarkably steady.

“I tried to win you something from the tombola like I promised,” said Tara.

“What did you get? Beans? Tea towels? Tell me my useless prize!” 

“Condoms.”

“What?”

“I won a box of condoms.”

“You did?” Darcy scanned their girlfriend’s person, looking for where she might be concealing the box.

“What? Did you want them?”

“Babe,” Darcy said, exasperated. “We could have made the best balloon puppet show, come on.”

Tara let out an affectionate laugh. “I’m sorry. I gave them to Charlie as a peace offering.” She shrugged. “Not sure if it worked, but…”

“He’s single,” said Tao, shaking his head. “Way to depress him, Tara.”

“Who else was I meant to give them to?”

Tao, Elle and James all stared at her. Tao waved his hand. “Literally any of us.”

“Guys,” said Darcy. “Tara made the right decision. Maybe Charlie will take the gift as a sign to… you know…” They proceeded to perform an intricately explicit series of hand movements and facial expressions which made the others gasp and giggle, and Tao pretend to vomit. “What? I’m just saying—that boy needs to chill out, relax… have some proper, quality time with a certain cheesecake-baking golden retriever rugby lad.”

✨

Richard kept his distance as his father-in-law browsed the stalls of the market, hands behind his back. He wasn’t naive enough to think he had gone unnoticed as he followed him from spot to spot. When Hassan finally deigned to acknowledge his presence, Richard took his chance. “Enjoying yourself, Hassan?”

The older man joined him under some trees between two less popular stalls. “Sarah Nelson says Pauline Jones threatened her with magic.”

Richard fixed a frown onto his face.

“She said that Pauline used a spell on her,” Hassan continued. “For talking to Charlie Spring about his parents.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Richard, shaking his head. “Sarah isn’t exactly a reliable source. And Pauline… She doesn’t have any power. None of us do. Your coven took care of that.”

“I would be inclined to agree with you except I’ve seen it.”

Richard sighed. “Nobody’s practising around here. Those days are over.”

“The children—I saw them just now. Your own daughter is one of them.”

“Elle?”

“With the Spring boy back in town they have a complete coven. They can awaken to their full potential. We have to stop them.”

“They don’t know anything. We’ve kept it all from them.”

Hassan pulled his jacket straighter around himself. “I’m going to take care of it. I swore I would never let what happened to your coven ever happen again.” 

He turned to go but at the last moment, Richard stepped after him. “Hassan, look, I know we’ve had our differences, but I lost my wife. I’m not about to let something happen to Elle, too. Let me help you.” He studied his father-in-law’s perpetually neutral features. “Tell me what I can do.”

✨

By four o’clock that afternoon, Charlie was starting to suspect Imogen was feeling sorry for him. He had to admit Tara’s words loomed heavily like a storm cloud, and as the day went on and less and less people came to play the tombola, the less Charlie had to distract himself from the inevitable thought pattern. 

He turned quiet and contemplative, so much so that not even Imogen’s constant chatter could break through. She stopped trying long before she told him he should head home early. He had insisted he could stay and help pack up, but she merely chivvied him away. “Thank you for your help, but you need food and sleep.”

He had meant to go home. Instead, he found himself stepping into Nellie’s Tea Room, the doorbell jingling overhead. The cafe was bustling with people fresh from a day at the market, coats draped over chairs, steam lifting from cups of tea and coffee. The counters were almost bare, and behind them, Sarah looked frazzled—and the person beside her at the till—was not Nick.

Charlie’s heart sank. He scanned the cafe floor for that mop of strawberry blond hair. He swallowed thickly and realised just how much he’d been hoping to see him.

“Hello, Charlie,” said Sarah. “What can I get you?”

Still stuck in his disappointment, Charlie blinked at her. He edged slightly closer to the counter.

“Nicky just left for the day,” she said with a knowing look. “He was meant to be done an hour ago but you know what he’s like. I can call him back if you want.”

“No, don’t bother him. Um… I should go…”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind being bothered by you, dear.” Sarah frowned. “Is everything okay, sweetheart?”

Charlie flitted the rest of the way to the counter, conscious of Sarah watching him in concern. He looked into her friendly, familiar face and decided to try again. “Um, so, the other night… you were telling me about my parents… Specifically about my mum—you said she was—”

Sarah smiled a sad smile. “Oh, don’t worry about that. You know what, here—” Sarah slid the display case open and grabbed a doughnut at random. She shoved it into a paper bag, then shoved the bag into Charlie’s hands. He stuttered a surprised “t-thank you” and then she was around the counter, hurrying him from the cafe. “Have a nice evening, Charlie.”

The door swung shut and Charlie watched, dazed, as Sarah went back to her station, a nervous hand flattening her hair. 

What had that been about? 

But, Charlie thought, perhaps he had been too presumptuous, too prying—after all, he didn’t know Sarah that well, and she was clearly in the middle of one of her busiest work days of the year. Stupid , he told himself. Fucking stupid. Inconsiderate —he shouldn’t have even asked. Should have just gone home.

“Hi.”

Charlie looked up from the doughnut, which was now a squished mush in its bag between his hands. Nick Nelson was standing before him, his hair lifting in the breeze.

“Hi.” Charlie felt so light all of a sudden, he wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been picked up on the wind along with his whispered greeting.

Nick fidgeted with his hands, keeping a much-too respectable distance between the pair of them. “So,” he said, wincing. “I’ve been asked to come over here and convince you to bind the coven.” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry. We can talk about something else or you can just ignore me and I’ll go away again in a bit, I just—they’re over there watching and…”

“Nick…” Charlie took Nick’s hand and squeezed. At once Nick stopped his nervous ramblings and stared at him, cheeks flushed. Suddenly, Charlie realised what he had done and retracted his hand. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

The sun was setting, the sky behind Nick’s head a watercolour of blue and gold.

“If we bind the coven,” Charlie whispered. “We’ll be able to control our magic better?”

“Yes.”

“No more exploding lights or floating leaves?”

“I don’t think so.”

Charlie dropped his gaze to his hands, to his white Converse, to Nick’s black Vans. Maybe this decision really did have more pros and cons than he’d thought… He looked up and realised what Nick was wearing—jeans and a dark green shirt. He smelled extra nice, too. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Oh, um, yeah… We’re sort of on our way out.” He glanced across the pavement to where the others were huddled. Even James was there, all of them clearly trying to pretend they hadn’t been watching the two of them from afar.

“Where are you going?”

“A club. It’s just down there.”

“Oh.”

“Look, it’s actually quite nice. The dance floor is on this wooden deck overlooking the river. It’s outside, but they have these big heaters so it’s super cosy and fun. You should come… if you want.”

“It’s not really my sort of thing.” Charlie looked down at his coat and the jeans he’d been wearing all day. “And I’m not really dressed for it.”

“You don’t have to, but I’d… I’d like you to come. It’d be more fun with you there. Just… consider it, please?”

Charlie didn’t have time to formulate a coherent answer before— “Nick! Come on !” Darcy yelled from the pavement. Charlie watched Nick hurry away, then turn and give him a cute little wave, before he joined the others and the seven of them head off into town.

✨

“What were you thinking?” Richard demanded. “That she wouldn’t say anything? Use your head.”

“I may have gone a little too far,” said Pauline, pulling her coat tighter around herself. “But we can’t have Sarah running her mouth off about Julio. We can’t let her ruin this for us.”

“No, you’ve already taken care of that.”

The two of them were huddled in an alleyway near Nellie’s Tea Room. The sun had just ducked below the horizon, leaving only the orange glow of the streetlights to illuminate their faces.

Pauline sighed. “What are we going to do about Hassan?”

“You’re not going to do anything except give me that crystal,” said Richard. “That’s all the power we have. If we use it up we have nothing. We can’t waste it.”

“Okay.” Pauline rolled her eyes. “You’ve made your point.”

She reached into her coat pocket and Richard held out his hand. Pauline extracted the crystal. She studied the way the light reflected off it, palm-sized and white.

“Look,” said Richard. “I get it. It feels good to do magic again. It’s seductive—it always has been. But we have to be smart. Let’s think of the bigger picture here.” He reaffirmed his hand, drew it closer to her and he watched her face fall before she reluctantly placed the crystal into his open palm.

✨

The night was relatively mild, the music was loud and the drinks were flowing. Nick was in a huddle of the best friends he’d ever had, all of them dancing in the middle of the crowd. All of them except for Isaac, who had settled at one of the tables along the side of the deck, a book in hand, a drink beside him. 

And except for Charlie, of course, whom Nick could not stop scanning the crowd for. He hadn’t meant to invite him. He sort of couldn’t believe he had. But from the moment the question had spilled from his lips, Nick had known he would be devastated if Charlie didn’t show. Of course, he couldn’t blame him if he didn’t feel like hanging out with them right now, but Nick would miss him. 

He was starting to think he might miss him when he was gone for a long, long time.

“So!” Tao sidled up to him, Elle at his side. “Did he agree to bind?”

“I think he wants to,” said Nick. “If only for us to stop bugging him about it.”

Elle’s face dropped. Nick hadn’t spoken to either of them much over the last few days but he suspected their disagreement hadn’t been entirely forgotten.

Imogen appeared from between the dancing crowd in a very sparkly pink dress and grabbed his hands. “Hey, Nicholas!” She was already very tipsy. Nick laughed as he let her drag him over to where Tara and Darcy were dancing with James.

James didn’t often say yes when the coven invited him to social things, but his other friends weren’t ones for clubs and dancing. He had been having a good time, until he noticed Ben Hope arrive. Several times he lost sight of him in the crowd and things felt better again. But then, as Nick joined them, James felt someone grab his hips from behind and begin to grind against him. He turned around. “What the fuck?”

Ben leaned forward to snake his hands around James’ waist, as if he were going to kiss him. James pushed at his shoulders and ducked away from the crowd, towards Isaac’s table.

“We were having fun,” Ben whined, hot on his tail. “Why can’t you just go with the flow? God, what is wrong with you lately?”

He whirled around—if Ben was going to be loud, James wasn’t going to hide anything either. “We broke up, Ben. We’re over. I keep telling you, but maybe you needed to hear it in person.” He didn’t even hang around for the satisfaction of Ben’s expression, James just turned on his heel and strode the rest of the way to Isaac’s table.

“Sometimes I’m really glad to be aro/ace,” said Isaac.

“Ugh!” James groaned. He slumped down into a chair and scrubbed at his face. “It’s not fair—my options are dwindling. I thought maybe Charlie, but…”

Isaac chuckled. “Yeah, don’t think you have a chance there, I’m afraid. Speaking of.”

Charlie climbed the wooden steps onto the deck. 

It had taken him a while of wandering along the marina in the dark, trying to find the place, but the music helped guide the way. With the glowing heat lamps dotted around and the lanterns strung about the place, it really did seem as cosy and fun as Nick had promised. Beyond the crowd of dancing people, Charlie glimpsed the river stretching wide and black out into the distance. At the railing, he looked down at the rocks far below, at the water lapping them gently.

“Charlie! You actually came!”

He turned, already grinning at the sound of that voice. “Hi,” he said. Nick looked flushed and happy, his hair a little more ruffled than before. “You look nice. I mean…” Charlie cleared his throat. “You did before, but I forgot to—I should have said so before.”

Nick laughed and flushed even pinker. “Thank you. You look great, too. Not that you don’t always.”

Then it was Charlie’s turn to giggle and blush.

“I’m glad you decided to come,” said Nick. “Want a drink?” He handed Charlie one of the two beers he was holding. “Oh, crap. I dunno if you even drink beer, I should have asked, sorry.”

“Thanks. And I do. Drink beer.”

“Good.” Nick leaned against the railing to look down at the water below. “That’s good.”

Charlie leaned beside him and nudged his shoulder with his own. They chuckled quietly between themselves and sipped their drinks. 

“Charlie!” Darcy barrelled out of nowhere and flung an arm around him. They were bright-eyed, wild-haired and unsteady on their feet. “Thank god you came. Nick was moping and pining so hard it was making me sad. I don’t want to be sad!”

Charlie raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really?” 

Nick merely blushed some more and took a swig of his beer.

“Hey, Charlie,” said Tao as he and Elle appeared. Behind them, Charlie spotted Tara and Imogen dancing together and, at a nearby table, Isaac reading beside a pouty-looking James.

“Come and dance with us,” said Darcy, tugging at his arm.

“Oh, no thanks,” said Charlie. “I’m not much of a dancer. Or at least, not when I’m this sober.”

“Then we need to fix that.” Darcy bopped his nose with a finger and swanned off towards the bar.

“Hmm… this is getting kind of boring,” Elle murmured to Tao. “Maybe we should just leave.”

“What?” said Tao. “But Charlie just got here. I was having a nice time.”

“But you hate this place, Tao. It took me ages to convince you to come along.”

“Am I not allowed to change my mind?”

“Of course you are, I just…” She set aside her empty drink and took a breath. “Maybe we just need to make things more interesting. More fun.” Her eyes glinted, not just with the reflections of the lights around them, but with mischief and adventure. “I know what we can do to make this party a little better. We could start another storm. This time you start it, Charlie, and I’ll stop it.”

Tao opened his mouth to retort, but then held his tongue.

“That’s not funny,” said Charlie. “Someone could have been killed in that storm.”

“You pick then,” said Elle with a shrug. “Ooh! Show us that floating thing you did with the spoons again.”

Nick tensed beside him. “Elle, leave it.”

“Leave me alone,” said Charlie. “I knew I shouldn’t have come here.”

The lanterns flickered and the five of them glanced around. Several other people noticed, too. Charlie’s stomach dropped. A prickle of something tingly shot down his spine and he shivered.

Elle looked at him with a strange look in her dark eyes. “You did that.” Tao was watching him, too, a steadying hand on his girlfriend’s arm.

“I—I’m sorry,” Charlie gasped. “I didn’t mean to. See what I’ve been saying? I can’t control it and it freaks me the fuck out so please don’t—” Thunder rumbled across the sky and Charlie flinched. Instinctively, he reached for Nick. He clutched at the side of his shirt, and Nick slid a hand around his waist. “Elle, please, don’t.”

“ I’m not doing anything,” said Elle.

“Elle, let’s go and dance some more,” said Tao. “Or we can go home if you really want to.”

A gust of wind blew across the deck and several of the heaters flickered out. Beneath them, the wooden boards began to creak and groan. Nick and Charlie clung to each other even tighter. “Stop it!” Nick cried. “Stop!”

But it wasn’t Elle he should have been shouting at.

“I can’t,” Charlie gasped, looking up into Nick’s face. “I don’t—”

Elle sighed and stepped closer to Charlie, a hand outstretched for his shoulder. He flinched away and a chair flew out of nowhere, straight towards Elle. She flung out a foot and stopped it before it could barrel right into her.

“Hey!” Tao cried. “Charlie, what the fuck?”

“I’m sorry!” Charlie wrenched himself from Nick’s arms and threw his hands over his ears. “I’m sorry, Nick, but I’m just gonna go.”

But Nick was too busy staring daggers at Tao and Elle. “If you two would just back off, maybe Charlie could calm down enough for the weather to chill the fuck out.”

“You’re right,” said Tao. “I’m sorry, it’s just that—”

“No. We won’t back off,” said Elle. “It’s our magic, we can do what we want with it.”

“And pushing at Charlie’s magic is okay, is it? You’ve been so worried about losing your own autonomy that you’ve forgotten Charlie’s.”

“But his magic is such a waste—he’s too scared to use it properly.”

“It’s been a week,” said Nick. “Can you really say you got any kind of handle on your power in the first week of knowing you were a witch? It’s been over a year for all of us, Elle, and not one of us can say we have complete control of it.”

“Hey, what’s going on?” 

The four of them whirled around to find Imogen standing there, her large blue eyes glittering in the light. 

“What are you arguing about?”

Elle scoffed. “Not now, Imogen.”

“Hey, Imogen,” said Charlie. He moved to place himself between her and the others. “Want to dance?”

Imogen blinked in surprise, then nodded enthusiastically. “Always!”

“Come on, Nick. I came out to have a good time. I don’t need magic for that.”

Without hesitation, Nick took Charlie’s offered hand.

A sudden blast rang through the night. So loud that every single person on the deck stopped dancing or drinking or making out to turn and look. 

One second, Nick’s eyes widened. The next, Charlie pulled at his hand, to yank him out of the way. Imogen darted out in front of them, her own blue glare trained on Elle, whose hands were splayed wide in front of her. The blast swept Imogen off her feet and threw her sideways where she soared out of sight, over the side of the deck.

It was as if Imogen’s scream had been the cue to turn off the music. The resulting silence was deafening. The crowd stared at the wooden slats of the railing which had burst apart, swinging loose in the breeze.

“What did you do?” Tara cried as she, Darcy, James and Isaac hurried over to the others.

Elle let her hands fall to her sides and she and Tao stood there, frozen in horror.

When it seemed like no one else was going to move, Charlie let go of Nick’s hand and moved cautiously towards the railing. He peered down at the dark rocks below. 

There she was, lying crumpled, her limbs at odd angles, her glittery dress dull pink beside her milky skin. 

At the sound of footsteps behind him, Charlie turned around. He flung out a hand to stop Nick from going further. “Don’t look.” 

Nick was wide-eyed and pale. He grabbed onto Charlie’s hand and together, they hurried to the steps and ran down them, out onto the rocks. They were slippery underfoot and the light permeating from the club was minimal. The wind off the water chilled them to the bone in seconds. Hands locked, Charlie felt rather than saw the moment Nick saw the full extent of the damage.

“Don’t,” Charlie gasped. “Nick, please, don’t look.”

Nick’s other hand clamped around the side of Charlie’s shirt and he could feel Nick shaking. “Hey,” said Charlie, turning to look at him properly. “Stay here, okay? I need to check if she’s… if she’s okay.”

Nick nodded slowly, his eyes shining. Charlie pried himself away from him and turned back to their friend, lying crumpled several metres away. He picked his way over the rocks towards her, careful not to slip, and crouched down at her side. He reached out a shaky hand and felt at her throat.

His heart dropped. He wobbled and sank onto his knees, soaking them instantly. “She’s not breathing,” he gasped. He whirled around, suddenly wanting, needing Nick beside him again. “She’s not breathing!”

There was a scuffle of movement and then Nick was there, and he was crouching beside him, and he was clinging to him. Above them, the sounds of chaos were getting louder, the crowd now gathered along the railing, watching them on the rocks. “You!” came a shout from the top of the steps. Richard Argent pointed at random. “Call an ambulance.”

“I’ve already done it,” said Tara. “They’re on their way.”

Nick buried his face in Charlie’s shoulder, but Charlie looked up at their friends. Tara and Darcy were standing close to the broken section of railing, arms around each other, cheeks tear-streaked. As Richard descended the steps towards them, Charlie saw Pauline arrive and head straight for her daughter. Darcy pulled Isaac into their huddle and he in turn pulled James in, too. Tao and Elle stood separately, Elle with her head buried in Tao’s chest, trembling from head to foot.

“Move away,” came Mr Argent’s shout. “Come on, boys, move.”

Charlie stumbled to his feet, pulling Nick with him. They carefully picked their way back to the bottom of the steps, never once letting go of each other. Nick resumed his position with his head in Charlie’s shoulder, but Charlie couldn’t look away. He stroked Nick’s back and hung onto him as he watched Mr Argent arrive at Imogen’s side. The man bent over her and reached a hand into his coat pocket.

Nick lifted his head. Charlie turned and followed his gaze. A man had appeared at the top of the steps. His hair was grey, his skin dark. His eyes had been trained on the rocks, but then he seemed to sense he was being watched and he turned to look down at Nick and Charlie, huddled at the bottom of the steps.

A strange whispering made all three of them turn back to Mr Argent. A moment later, Imogen’s body shuddered.

She let out a gasp.

Mr Argent helped her into a sitting position as she coughed and spluttered.

The crowd above erupted into shouts of triumphant relief, but all Nick and Charlie could do was stare from their head teacher to their friend and back again. 

Nick’s hand tightened in Charlie’s. His skin was cool to the touch and he was shivering—or was that Charlie himself, he didn’t know. “She’s alive. Nick, she’s awake.”

“Imogen?”

Nick led the way back over the rocks to Imogen’s side. Her pale face was riddled with confusion. “W-what happened?”

“It’s okay,” said Nick. “You fell, but an ambulance is coming. You’re going to be okay.”

Charlie stood back and let Nick settle himself at Imogen’s side. He shoved down his twinge of jealousy and tried to wiggle some feeling back into his freezing hands and feet. He looked around for Mr Argent, but found he had gone. He had somehow climbed back up the step and vanished without a trace.

What exactly had he done to revive Imogen so thoroughly?

“Charlie?” Nick had one arm around Imogen, but beckoned with the other. “Are you alright?”

Charlie hesitated, then nodded. He let Nick pull him into their huddle, and the three of them sat like that, arms around each other, until the paramedics arrived.

✨

Twenty minutes later, Richard Argent stood on the side of the road and watched the ambulance drive Imogen away. The club behind him had mostly cleared out now, only a few workers remaining, arguing about how best to patch up the broken railing and worrying about getting sued.

Pauline appeared at his side. “You used the crystal. I thought we weren’t going to waste it.”

He turned to her, incredulous. “We don’t kill innocent children.”

“You have an interesting set of rules there, don’t you?” said Pauline. “You’ll have to explain them to me sometime.”

“It was Elle’s fault. She’s my daughter. That kind of guilt would have destroyed her. What would you have done if it were Tara?”

Pauline had no answer to that.

✨

They found Isaac and James waiting for them on the pavement outside the club. Nick was still numb with shock. He hadn’t let go of Charlie’s hand since Imogen had woken up and didn’t plan to any time soon. He felt as if one or both of them might float away if he did. 

When he’d turned around and found Charlie gone from his side, his heart had about fallen from his chest. And then it had cracked further when he’d realised what Charlie had been doing—keeping his distance, as if Nick didn’t need him anymore. But didn’t he understand? He would always need Charlie—always. And in that moment, he had needed him as close as possible.

“The others went to the cafe,” Isaac told them quietly. “I hope that was okay.”

Nick nodded. He wanted to go home, preferably with Charlie, but he knew they had to talk. All of them. This needed to stop, for all of their sakes.

The tea room was dark when they arrived. Tao and Elle were sitting in a shadowy corner, Tara and Darcy opposite, each of them with mirroring expressions of devastation.

“The paramedics said she’s going to be okay,” said Isaac.

Tao nodded. 

Elle took a deep, shaking breath. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt, I swear I didn’t—I would never ever—” Her voice broke and she began to cry in earnest. 

Isaac slid into the seat beside her and rubbed her back. James settled beside Tara and Darcy.

“It’s not your fault,” said Nick on an exhale. “No more than it is mine. We were arguing. I was angry, you were angry. Something was bound to happen. But we can’t let our feelings control us like this anymore.”

Elle sniffled and nodded. “I’m sorry I was so… pig-headed about the whole thing. Tara, you were right. We should have bound the coven as soon as…”

“No,” said Tara, reaching for Elle’s hand across the table. “We all have to consent to it.”

“Well, I consent,” said Elle. “Of course I do.”

“Me too,” said Tao.

The sentiment echoed around the table from Elle, to Tao, to Tara and Isaac and James, to Nick, to Darcy, who nodded after only a moment of hesitation. Finally, everyone’s gazes fell on Charlie. 

He considered their now familiar faces and the horror clear in each of them. He kept his grip on Nick’s hand and took a breath.

“We don’t have a choice,” he said. “It’s too dangerous not to. If we can’t control what we feel or what we think, we’re just going to keep hurting people. Look, I don’t want to be connected any more than you do,” he added to Darcy. “But no one else can get hurt. It’s wrong—especially if there’s anything we can do to stop it. We have to bind the coven.”

Each of them let out a collective sigh. Charlie felt Nick relax slightly, but at the same time, a new tension arrived in the room. Of anticipation.

“Alright,” said Tara. “We’ll meet in the woods by the cottage. At midnight?”

“Seems fitting,” said James. “Very witchy.”

“Hm, well, that’s the idea.”

Everyone headed out, to get changed out of their party clothes before they went hiking through the woods. Mostly, Nick just wanted some time to breathe. To hug his mum and his dog and think. Tao and Elle disappeared off together quickly in one direction while Tara and Darcy did the same in the other. James offered Isaac a lift home which he accepted gratefully.

Nick made sure the shutters were secure over the cafe windows and locked the door behind them. Charlie was waiting for him when he finished up. He turned to him with a sigh. And then Charlie hugged him and Nick hugged him back. He smelled of river water and cold night air, but his hair was soft beneath his cheek and his arms were strong and steady around him.

Without talking, they walked to Nick’s car and climbed inside.

Nick was just reached to turn the engine on when it roared to life on its own. The lights flashed, the horn beeped. Each of the interior lights flickered on and the stereo whirred to life. The windscreen wipers screeched into action and music began to play. Dover Beach by Baby Queen.

“I love this song,” said Charlie.

Blinking in their shock, they turned to look at each other. Charlie’s cheeks were pink, his blue eyes wide—but then he laughed. And Nick laughed too. He tapped the dashboard. “Alright, car,” he said. “That’s enough. Let’s just get home, yeah?”

The car finally settled down but Nick let the music play.

✨

The house was quiet and dark when he returned. Richard poured himself a large glass of wine and settled in his favourite chair in the living room, slippers on. He hadn’t meant to leave the lights off, but he had been so deep in thought, in worry, that he’d neglected them. 

Perhaps he should have been on higher alert because he didn’t hear the front door open or close. 

Didn’t hear Hassan’s quiet footsteps as he appeared in the living room door.

“It was Pauline who threw me,” said Hassan. “At first I thought she’d pushed the children to form a coven so she could use their power to somehow re-establish hers, but then I realised Pauline Jones is many things, but clever is not one of them.”

Richard turned to peer at his father-in-law through the gloom.

“And then I saw you,” Hassan continued. “You couldn’t have saved that girl tonight without a crystal. Where did you get it? They were all destroyed.”

When Richard gave no answer, Hassan stepped further into the room. He observed the photographs in their frames over the mantelpiece, his shiny-shoed feet on the plush green rug.

“It was wrong of you to strip us of our powers,” said Richard.

“There was a time for witchcraft,” said Hassan. “That time has long gone. There’s no place for it in the world anymore.”

“You’ve forgotten what it feels like. How long has it been since you’ve practised? Sixteen years?”

“The coven is different. You know what can be unleashed if they bind together. I’m going to the elders tomorrow, to tell them what’s going on here. In the meantime, you need to give me the crystal.”

A moment passed as Richard considered this. He sighed and got steadily to his feet. He slipped his hand into the inside pocket of the coat he had neglected to take off. He took out the crystal as Hassan held out his hand. 

But Richard made no move to hand it over. “You know what, Hassan? I’ve got a better idea. I think you should go back to your house by the lake and take things easy.” He glanced at his father-in-law and saw him shift, uncomfortable. The older man clutched at his arm, as if he had an itch, a twinge of pain, just below his elbow. “It would be awful if you had another heart attack. You might not survive this time.”

Hassan gasped and clutched at his heart. He sank to his knees, unable to breathe as his heart seized beneath Richard’s magic. Richard tossed the crystal between his hands. A cold, unfeeling haze had come over him. He stood over his father-in-law, the older man looking up at him from the floor, old and frail in his helplessness.

“You should know,” said Richard. “I was in love with your daughter.”
It was rather quick, all things considered. 

Richard watched Hassan’s eyes go blank and then moved away as his body slumped aside onto the green rug. Unmoving and cold, Hassan was not easy to clean up. But Richard managed it, and just in time, too, because half an hour later, he had only just sat back down with his wine when the front door opened. He heard it that time. And heard his daughter’s familiar footfalls as she entered and finally turned on a lamp. Tao was beside her.

“Your grandpa drove back to the lake tonight,” said Richard, not looking up from the dark liquid in his glass. “He said to tell you goodbye.”

“Oh.”

Richard winced at the disappointment in her voice. “What happened tonight? Were you drinking?”

When Elle didn’t answer, Richard finally looked up at her and Tao. Elle chewed at her lip. “Things got a bit out of hand.”

Richard set his wine glass aside and got to his feet. He went to his daughter and pulled her into a hug. “That girl could have been you tonight.”

She clung to him, tighter than she had in a long time. “Everything’s going to be okay, dad.”

✨

A bonfire had been lit, controlled and beautiful but eerie amongst the darkness of the woods. The clearing beside the cottage was dappled with flickering firelight, broken only by the shadows of the eight coven members as they arrived to gather around the burning logs. 

Tara and Darcy arrived first, and were the ones to build the fire, with only a little help from magic. Nick and Charlie got there in time to help kindle the last of the flames. The four of them waited and watched in anticipatory quiet as Isaac, then James walked into the clearing, followed finally by Tao and Elle, hand in hand, appearing together from between the trees.

When at last the eight of them were present, Tara took out her grimoire. “Is everyone ready?”

They had formed a circle without discussing it, around the bonfire.

“Do we have to hold hands?” asked Tao.

Tara shrugged. “It doesn’t say we have to.”

“Seems right, though, doesn’t it?” said James. “Nick and Charlie have already made a start.”

Indeed they had. Charlie reached out to take Tao’s hand and Nick reached for Tara. 

“Wait,” she said. “I can’t. I need to hold the grimoire.”

Darcy rolled their eyes fondly. “Don’t pretend you haven’t memorised it.”

“Well, I don’t want to get it wrong, do I?”

Nick hooked his arm around Tara’s, leaving her free to hold her book of spells in one hand. 

“Ready?”

The others nodded in assent.

“Just get it over and done with,” Tao grumbled.

Tara cleared her throat and began to read aloud. “Fire, earth, air, water, by these elements we bind the coven and follow in the footsteps of our ancestors who pledged themselves to fight against the forces of darkness. When evil assails us, when fear weakens us, when descent threatens us, in the coven we will find our power. We come to this place as individuals but leave bound as one. With this oath, our journey begins together. Do you accept the coven?”

“I accept,” the seven witches replied.

The bonfire blazed brighter before it erupted higher still, making each of the witches' faces glow.

Chapter Text

chapter five: you shouldn’t have come here

Tao glared at his locker. But it remained firmly shut.

He focused again, closed his eyes. He concentrated on the ground beneath his feet, the air around him, the simple metal locking mechanism inside. He pushed with all his might and… Nothing.

“Ugh!” He shoved at the door, ignoring the looks he acquired from the students around him.

He and Elle had spent most of Sunday sleeping, or else just wrapped up in her bed, hiding from the world. They had both been reeling from the events of Saturday night. Tao suspected they would all be for a long time to come. Still, he was trying to stay strong for Elle, for himself—otherwise he might think too hard about what could have happened to Imogen and never want to do magic again. And how boring would that be?

“Morning.” Tao looked up from his locker to find Isaac watching him, several books under his arm. “What’s up with you?”

“What happened to my magic?”

“Shh!” Isaac glanced around. The surrounding students weren’t paying them any attention.

Tao dropped his voice anyway. “I can’t open my locker.”

“Did you try your key?”

Tao rolled his eyes. “Why can’t I do any spells?”

“I don’t know,” said Isaac with a sigh. “But I can’t either. I think that ceremony did something weird.”

Tao leaned his head against the coolness of the locker door and willed it to open. “Please,” he whispered.

The mechanism clicked. He stepped back. The door sprang open.

He turned to Isaac in alarm. He had been staring at the door, too. “Did you do that?”

“I think we both did,” said Isaac, brow furrowed. “Hmm… We were both just wishing the locker would open and it did. I think maybe we can still do magic—only not on our own.”

“What?” Tao groaned. “What the fuck? Well, that’s way less fun.”

Isaac shrugged. “Yeah, but at the same time, I can’t stop thinking about Saturday night and what might have happened—what did happen. I think we need to be thankful that things are under control now, no matter the price.”

“Let’s just hope Imogen doesn’t remember what really happened.”

✨

When Nick had arrived home very early on Sunday morning, having dropped Charlie off on the way, he’d felt kind of strange. Lighter. But at the same time, the distinct lack of floating objects or that internal fuzzy warmth as they’d driven home made him sad. As he’d climbed into bed, he’d had to remind himself that those things were not normal. Most people only spoke of such things metaphorically. When he looked into Charlie’s eyes, the world only seemed brighter. When Charlie smiled, Nick only felt like he could float.

He had slept until noon. And then, when he’d decided to try and fix his broken fairy lights, nothing happened at all. He had gone around the house, trying to do at least some kind of magic—and failing every time.

He hadn’t known how to feel.

Out of options, and needing someone to talk to, he’d walked the ten minutes to Charlie’s house. He had let him inside with a tired smile and the offer of more of the delicious sandwiches his grandmother made. They had sat in the kitchen together, eating and, once they’d acknowledged their new found lack of solo magic, talked and talked about everything other than magic, the binding ceremony, or what had happened on Saturday night.

Which was why, when Charlie joined Nick in form on Monday morning and Nick’s pen exploded all over his hands, it took them several moments to do anything about it. Nick blinked down at his planner, now spattered with blue.

“Did you…? Was that?”

“Magic?” Nick whispered. “I dunno—oh.”

A strange breeze blew through the classroom, ruffling the pages of his planner until it fell closed and still. Nick and Charlie stared at it for several long seconds, eyes wide.

“Oh dear, Nick,” came Mr Farouk’s voice from behind them, making them jump. “You’d better go and clean up, hadn’t you? Charlie, go with him to open the doors. And be quick, yeah? No dawdling.”

Down the corridor, Nick kept his hands aloft so as not to spread blue ink everywhere, while Charlie held each door, smiling softly to himself. 

Ever since they had met two weeks ago (had it really only been two weeks?) Nick had only glimpsed moments of true happiness in Charlie. Each time it happened, Nick wished it would stick. So many terrible things had happened to Charlie in such a short space of time, and he was such a good person, so genuine and kind and wonderful, it made Nick furious to think about how the world had wronged him. Nick could only admire his strength—the fact he was still there beside him, still smiling when he could, still laughing and joking, a spring in his step as he led the way into the loos.

Nick grinned back and watched a blush spread across Charlie’s cheeks. He ducked his curly head, caught.

“Are you laughing at me?” Nick teased as he turned on the tap.

Charlie shrugged and shook his head. “No, I’m, err, just… it’s nothing.”

Nick began to scrub at his hands. “It’s not coming off!”

“You’re gonna be blue forever!”

“I look like I’m wearing blue gloves.”

“You can make it the new school fashion.”

“I could pretend it’s a tattoo.”

“I think that might be against school rules.”

Giving his hands up as a lost cause, Nick shook them off and turned to the hand dryer. The school bell rang overhead and Charlie’s face fell along with Nick’s heart. He chewed at his lip and gathered his courage. “Want to hang out at break?”

Charlie blinked at him in surprise, then smiled again. “Yeah, okay. I can meet you in the common room?”

“Okay.”

They walked back to form to grab their bags, then headed off towards their first lessons.

“Nick?” said Charlie, before they had to part ways.

“Yeah?”

“About your pen, and your planner… I’m really glad.”

“What?”

“I’m glad that we can still do that together… even if it is by mistake. I was worried our little mishaps would stop and they haven’t. So—” His blue eyes shone. “I’m glad.”

Nick’s heart did a swooping little flip, and he tried to remember to breathe and to not throw his arms around his best friend. “Me too.” Honestly, this boy was going to be the death of him. 

✨

James couldn’t believe how low he’d let himself stoop. Again.

But he had spent all of Sunday in a state of constant turmoil. He had watched miserably from his half-broken bedroom window as Nick arrived on Charlie’s doorstep, as he welcomed him inside, folded him into a hug a second before the door shut behind them. 

James had texted Isaac once or twice but the bookworm was renowned for being terrible at replying to messages, especially when he was deep down a literary rabbit hole. After the events of Saturday night, James couldn’t exactly blame him for wanting an escape, but still… None of the other coven members were around, online or otherwise, and for once, he mourned the fact his aunt and uncle worked weekends.

There had been no one to talk to or commisurate with, okay? So who could blame him (other than himself) for letting himself get caught up in Ben’s net. 

James was crossing the Truham front yard and before he could realise what was happening, he was being pressed against the wall behind the sports block, Ben’s fingers under his blazer, tracing haphazard patterns over his shirt.

“I knew you didn’t really want to break up,” said Ben when he finally relented.

The second Ben moved, James pushed himself the rest of the way out from between his arms. “I did.” He swiped a hand over his mouth and checked it—no blood. Ben was a hard kisser and sometimes it happened. “I do. I don’t like you Ben, like, at all.”

Ben leaned against the brick wall, leering. “But you like kissing me, and you like letting me fuck you.”

James rolled his eyes and ducked away even further. “Not anymore. I can’t—I can’t do this anymore, Ben. I shouldn’t have let this happen again.”

He turned to go, but a hand grasped his wrist and pulled him back around.

“Wait,” said Ben.

James flinched. He had seen that volatile look in Ben’s eyes before. But then he watched it change, into something unfamiliar. Like Ben was unsure of himself, vulnerable.

“I think I’m ready.” His voice came out as hardly more than a whisper.

All James could do was blink at him in disbelief. “What?”

“I…” Ben licked his lips. “What I’m trying to say is… there’s this school dance next week and I was… wondering if you would like to go… with me.”

In a month of Sundays, James would never have predicted those would be the words coming from Ben Hope’s mouth. He opened his own mouth, to demand something like what the fuck, but then—

“Just tell me, okay? Yes or no?”

James scoffed. “Are you joking? All this time—you said we were just sex. That’s all this was. Not boyfriends. Not dating. Just kissing and sex and secrets .”

“I messed up, okay? I thought you’d be happy.”

“I might have been,” said James. “A month ago when I still gave a shit. There’s just one thing you can’t seem to understand—we broke up, Ben. I don’t care if you’ve had a change of heart, or if you’re ready to come out now—congrats but I broke up with you.”

Once again, James turned to stride away, to work through what the hell just happened in peace and quiet, when Ben pulled him back again.

“For fuck’s sake,” James groaned. “You want your answer, Ben? No. I won’t go to the dance with you. I never want to see you again.”

✨

“Did things go smoothly?” asked Richard. 

Pauline perched on the edge of the chair opposite his desk in his Truham office. She straightened her pencil skirt and observed the cluttered desktop, itching to tidy it. “Hassan’s body is at his house by the lake,” she said. “It won’t be found until it needs to be.”

Richard nodded. “Thank you, Pauline.”

“Hassan brought this on himself, Richard. You had no choice.” 

Her dark eyes turned to him and for once he found in them some of the kindness she reserved only for her daughter—her daughter and those she wished to fool.

“It doesn’t make it any easier,” said Richard. “He was Elle’s grandfather.”

Pauline sighed. “Well, I searched Hassan’s house—there was no sign of a crystal.” She stood up and drifted towards the wall of old headteachers before quickly turning away again. “I watched the whole thing,” she said. “The coven is bound. We have to move fast, before someone else catches onto us. There are still people in this town who remember.”

She should have come at a different time, she realised as she headed back to her car. Pauline had parked down the road, wanting to avoid spending as much time in the Truham grounds as possible. But she had been stupid to think she could go unnoticed forever.

“Hey, honey,” she said when she saw Tara coming out of the Higgs gates across the road.

“What are you doing at Truham?”

“You know I handle all the school’s legal work,” Pauline reminded her. “Do you need a lift home?”

“No, thanks,” said Tara with a smile. “I’m good.”

“Okay, well, I’ll see you at home.”

Her Tara had always been such a good girl. Pauline just hoped she stayed that way, even if she was now a practising witch bound to a coven.

✨

Sitting beside Imogen in the common room on Wednesday afternoon, Charlie struggled to concentrate on the Latin he was meant to be translating. Luckily, the arm Imogen had broken was her left and thus she was still able to write, but the sight of the sling on her arm made Charlie remember all over again the way she had looked on those rocks. She seemed cheerful enough now, though, considering.

“So,” she said, halfway through fourth period. “Are you going to the dance next week?”

“I didn’t even know there was a dance.”

“Well, there is. Next Friday. I’m on the decorating committee.”

“Cool. We never had dances at my old school. I think there was a Christmas disco at the beginning of Year 7, and Year 11 prom, but other than that…”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a new thing, I think,” said Imogen. “Mr Argent thinks it’ll encourage a more ‘joyful spirit’ among the students. And this Sixth Form dance, well, it’s just the start of his plans.”

“Shouldn’t we be focusing on passing our exams?”

Imogen shrugged. “I think it’s fun. Only…”

“Only?”

“My streamer-hanging arm has seen better days.” She fiddled with her pen between her fingers. “I was hoping you might agree to help me. There’s only me and three other people on the committee and—”

“I’ll do it.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm. I’ll do whatever you need me to do. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She shifted in her chair, her sling snagging on the collar of her blazer. Charlie cleared his throat and considered how much he should pry. “Saturday night was a lot.”

“Yeah,” said Imogen. “The doctors all said I was really lucky. I could have hit my head on those rocks but I managed to miss them all… somehow. I’m barely even bruised.”

Charlie nodded. “Really lucky. I never actually saw exactly what happened. One minute we were all talking and then the next, I heard you scream and then you were gone. It was really scary.” He hadn’t slept once without that scream returning to him. Without the image of her pale and broken body lying twisted on the rocks.

“It’s all a bit of a blur for me, too, but…” She glanced around at the other students in the common room and lowered her voice. “I keep getting these weird flashes of Elle like… I know you lot were arguing before I fell, but then it’s like, I dunno, she did it. She pushed me.”

Charlie stared. “But she couldn’t have. She wasn’t anywhere near you.”

Imogen held Charlie’s gaze for a second before she looked away, shaking her head. “I know it sounds crazy. It’s just what I remember—her giving me this glare and then me waking up on the rocks.”

“I don’t think she was glaring at you,” said Charlie. “She was glaring at me and Nick and Tao. She’s been going through a lot lately and she’s on edge.”

“Hmm… I did get the sense that she and Tao fought last week.”

As Imogen descended into gossiping about Tao, Elle and all the other people she could think of who might have been having fights, break-ups or unrequited love, Charlie managed to nod along while his mind raced. He was pleased she didn’t seem to believe the little she remembered. It didn’t feel great to defend Elle’s drastic actions but on the other hand, he knew what it was like to lose control like that. Charlie had never almost killed someone, but he had caused other sorts of damage. James could have cut himself on that broken window. Nick’s bedroom could have caught fire.

And deep down, Charlie knew what it was like to enjoy the power, too.

One day Nick and Charlie could accidentally float something so high that it hurt someone when it landed. But Charlie knew it would still feel incredible—before the initial drop, anyway. 

He let out a shiver and tried to put the thought from his mind. As he did so, a rush of warmth enveloped him and he sighed. The highlighter in his hand wriggled, like it was trying to escape. Instinctively, he loosened his grip and the pen began to float. Charlie gasped and grabbed it before it could get any higher. But as he brought it down, he could feel a distinctive force trying to send it back into the air.

“He’s so hot,” said Imogen. Charlie flattened the highlighter to the desk with one hand. “I mean, objectively.”

He followed her gaze to the vending machines in the corner of the room. Nick was leaning against one while Isaac bought a drink.

“Mmhm…”

Imogen giggled and Charlie couldn’t help but do the same. He was still giggling when Nick looked around and their eyes met across the room. His gorgeous face split into a wide grin and he gave a cheerful little wave. Charlie returned it and Imogen made a high-pitched little noise Charlie usually only made internally when Nick did things like that.

“Hi,” said Nick, coming over with Isaac.

“Hi,” said Charlie.

Nick and Isaac settled down at Charlie and Imogen’s table and opened their drinks.

“Hey, Imogen,” said Nick. “How are you doing? How’s your arm?”

“Oh, it’s fine, thanks, Nick.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I suppose I should really thank you both for being there for me on Saturday.”

“There’s no need to thank us,” said Nick.

Charlie nodded. “We only did what anyone else would do, and Tara was the one who called the ambulance—”

“And Mr Argent was the one who actually revived you—”

Imogen looked between the pair of them and laughed. “No, seriously. No one else ran after me to see if I was okay. You two were there when I woke up and I’m really, really thankful for that.”

Ten minutes later, when Imogen had disappeared off to her next class, Charlie still felt guilty. He accepted the last of Nick’s drink gratefully and sipped it. 

Isaac set his book aside and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I hate lying to Imogen about what happened.”

Nick put his head down on the table. “Me too.”

“But what else can we tell her?” said Charlie, patting Nick’s back. “We can’t tell her the truth—not even if we remove all the magic stuff. Elle could get in serious trouble.”

Nick lifted his head and sighed. “It’s all just so delicate, this magic thing. One wrong move, one misplaced emotion and—and—”

“You accidentally murder your friend,” said Isaac.

“Yeah,” said Nick. “Yeah, that.”

Charlie still couldn’t quite believe what his life had become. Here he was, sitting with two of his many friends, discussing magic like it wasn’t something hypothetical inside his heart whenever Nick looked at him. Not just that anyway. How many impossible things would it take for him to accept that this was his reality? Charlie didn’t know. 

But that afternoon, as he stepped out from the Truham gates, another impossible thing made him doubt reality yet again. A boy he didn’t recognise strode right up to him, a smirky sort of smile on his handsome face. “Hey,” he said, pushing his swoopy brown hair out of his green eyes. “You’re the new boy, right?”

“Err, yeah,” said Charlie, taken aback. “Well, I’ve been here two weeks now. Am I still new?”

“You’re new to me.” The boy held out his hand. “I’m Ben.”

Charlie shook it. “Charlie.” 

This Ben was very attractive.

“I’ve seen you with Nick Nelson. Are the two of you…?”

“Friends. We’re… just friends.”

Ben nodded, like he had known the answer all along. “Right. Good. Well, if you ever need someone to show you around or, you know, you just want to hang out, I’m available.”

Up until that point, Ben had been all confident smirks and brooding features, but something in the facade flickered and he seemed suddenly unsure. Despite himself, Charlie’s heart did a little flop. Luckily, a flurry of students chose that moment to exit from the Truham gates, giving Charlie a moment to think. And giving Ben a moment to become even more uncomfortable.

“You know,” said Ben when the students dispersed. “There’s a school dance next week.”

“Yeah, I’m on the decorating committee.”

“So, you’re going?”

Charlie nodded.

“With anyone?”

“Imogen, I suppose.”

“Right… obviously. But you know, with her sling it’s probably going to be hard for her to dance so… I could fill in for her if you like.”

Charlie laughed before he could stop himself. What exactly was happening right now?

Ben cleared his throat. “I suppose that’s my way of asking you if you wanted to go with me. To the dance.”

Oh. This was happening right now. This had never happened before. Not to him. “I—I appreciate you asking…”

“Mmhm…”

“But, um, I’ve never decorated a school dance before let alone attended one, so I dunno how long it’s gonna take. Can I think about it?”

A flicker of something crossed Ben’s green eyes, but then it vanished and he smirked that dashing smirk of his. “Okay. Of course. You follow me on Insta, don’t you?” And with that, he turned and walked off down the road.

“No,” said Charlie to his retreating back. “I don’t think so.”

✨

A week later, Charlie still hadn’t given Ben an answer. 

It was Thursday evening and time was running out. The dance was tomorrow. 

He and Imogen were sitting in a cosy corner of Nellie’s Tea Room, their completed mood board for the dance spread out across the table, several empty cups and plates littered across it. 

He hadn’t told anyone else about Ben’s offer. For some reason the idea made him feel icky. Ashamed. 

Oh, yeah, probably because you have the biggest crush on someone else. Good one, Charles. 

He felt bad for even considering Ben—but at the same time, he felt bad for making him wait.

As Imogen checked and double-checked everything from the colour scheme, to the music, to the chairs, Charlie watched Nick work. When had he ever been torn between two entire boys with the capacity to like him? What had his life become?

Nick moved between the till and the drinks machine and the display case of treats with a practised ease, treating each customer with the same casual charm. Charlie watched him hand a to-go coffee cup to a tall man with dark hair and wish him a nice day. The customer turned around and looked directly at Charlie.

Shit. Charlie looked away, embarrassed to have been caught staring. At least he’d been caught by a stranger and not Nick. God, how sad, he thought. As if Nick would ever…

“We still need to go over the music with Jay again,” said Imogen. “They said they’d DJ but I still don’t trust them not to just play The Strokes all night long.”

“Nothing wrong with The Strokes.”

“Maybe not, but still. Ooh, and we’re gonna need to grab more circular tables from somewhere. The art rooms have some but I dunno if it’s gonna be enough. I should ask Tara to check Higgs.”

A chair scraped nearby and Imogen looked up from the mood board. Nick had begun to clear the tables close to where they were sitting. Charlie looked quickly down again and pretended to be preoccupied with checking the flatness of their sticky notes.

“So,” said Imogen. “Have you asked Nick to the dance?”

Charlie stared at her. “What? No. Why would I do that?”

“Because you can’t keep your eyes off him.”

“Um, well, he’s not… Nick’s not interested.”

“Oh, did you ask him? Or are you just guessing?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Charlie hissed. “He’s a… a really good friend. I don’t want to ruin the best friendship I’ve ever had.”

Imogen sighed. “Nick has been mysteriously single ever since he and I broke up. I told him he just needed to meet the right person and—” She waved her hands at Charlie. “—I think that’s you.”

“It’s not, though.”

“Then why can’t he keep his eyes off you?”

“He isn’t—he doesn’t—he’s not—”

“All I’m hearing is negative self-talk, my little gay friend.”

“Ugh!” Charlie groaned. “Can we please stop talking about this? I’m sorry I’m like this but I’m not used to good things happening to me.”

Imogen’s eyes softened. “Aw! You think Nick is a good thing?”

Charlie raised his eyebrows. “Well, duh!”

They both laughed. Charlie grabbed his bag and got up from his chair. “Coming? Or are you gonna camp out here until Sarah kicks you out?”

“Let her try.” Imogen waved him away. “See you tomorrow—ooh, go on, ask him now before you leave!”

“Imogen!”

“Go!”

“Fuck off.” 

Charlie hurried away from his friend and headed for the door. But he hadn’t been looking where he was going and he walked right into Nick. “Sorry! Sorry…”

Laughing, Nick steadied himself with his hands on Charlie’s shoulders. “You will be.” He dropped his hands, as if he’d just realised what he was doing. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, making it stick up at angles. “So,” he said. “You’re helping Imogen with the dance tomorrow?”

“Yep,” said Charlie. “It’s been kind of fun, actually.”

“A-are you going with anyone?”

Charlie chewed at his lip. “No,” he said. “Are you?”

“No…”

“Oh… well… it should be good. Or as good as any school dance can be…”

“Yeah…”

“Mmhm…”

“Excuse me?” A middle-aged woman appeared at Charlie’s elbow. “Are you going to order or just stand in the way all day?”

“S-sorry.” Charlie stepped aside and watched, helpless as Nick was forced to return to the counter, his attention on the customer. He let out a sigh and ducked quickly from the cafe. 

Stupid, he told himself. You are so stupid. What’s wrong with Ben? Absolutely nothing, that’s what.

He set off down the pavement and took out his phone. He navigated to Instagram and found Ben’s account. Ben Hope. Before he could wonder too long about why that surname sounded so familiar or chicken out entirely, he typed out a quick message.

CHARLIE: hey, it’s charlie

BEN: hey

CHARLIE: do you still want to go to the dance together?

BEN: absolutely

CHARLIE: then i would love to go to the dance with you

BEN: perfect. can i pick you up?

CHARLIE: can i meet you there? since i’m helping set up

BEN: right. see you there, then

CHARLIE: yep. can’t wait

“Charlie Spring?”

He looked up from his phone. He had made it a little way down the alley beside Nellie’s Tea Room, his chosen shortcut home to Britannia Road. A man was striding towards him. 

“Yes?”

“My name’s Simon. I just saw you inside.” His skin was stark white, his jaw sharp, his hair jet black. “It’s amazing,” he said. “You look just like your father.”

“Oh… um, thank you. You knew him?”

“We were good friends. Is he here in town?”

Charlie pocketed his phone. “No. He—he died.”

The man’s face paled even further. “I didn’t realise. I’m sorry. I work on a fishing boat. I don’t come into town much.”

Feeling awkward, Charlie nodded gently, then turned to go.

“What brings you to Truham?”

He turned back and studied the dark, almost black eyes of this stranger—Simon—his eyebrows like two slashes across his head. He was a striking man, and he looked about the same age as his dad. If they had been friends, then perhaps telling him about his death so out of the blue had been kind of cruel.

“My grandmother lives here,” he said. “She’s the only family I have left now.”

“So you’re staying, then? You’re going to live here now?”

“Yep. That’s the plan.”

“Did you know your dad vowed he’d never come back here?”

Charlie blinked, uncomfortable. “I know he had a difficult time here.”

“You’re right about that.” Simon’s eyebrows knitted into one long black line. “Do you know why?”

Charlie could tell Simon knew the answer, he just wanted Charlie to admit he did too. “I should go.” 

He started to walk away, but Simon hurried to catch up. “Do you know why he left? Do you know what he was?”

Charlie kept walking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A hand clamped around his arm. Simon yanked him around to face him, his deep, dark eyes glistening with a sudden desperate anger. “Don’t lie to me!”

“L-let go!” Charlie tried to pull his arm free, but the man’s grip was strong. 

Simon shoved at him and Charlie stumbled. His back hit the wall of the alley. Simon pinned him there, hands bruisingly tight over his forearms. “You’re like him,” Simon spat. “You’re a witch.”

Charlie struggled and twisted, but Simon only shook him hard. 

“Let go! Let go of me!”

The weight upon him suddenly vanished, and for a moment Charlie thought his solo magic had come back. Simon was lifted off his feet and thrown into the wall opposite. He landed in a sprawled heap on the pavement. 

Breathing hard, Charlie whirled around. Tara and Darcy were standing in the mouth of the alley, hand in hand, staring from Charlie to Simon, who was getting cautiously to his feet. 

He straightened his coat, glaring at Charlie. “You shouldn’t have come here,” he spat. “I’m not going to let this happen again.”

Simon turned and slipped between the buildings, out of sight.

“Oh my god!” Darcy cried as they and Tara hurried to his side. “Are you alright?”

His friends grasped at him, checked him over for injuries. He rubbed at his arms where the man had gripped him. “Thank you,” he gasped. He let Tara pull him into a hug and he breathed in her friendly, floral scent. “Fuck, thank you.”

Once Charlie calmed down enough to explain what had happened, Tara called an emergency coven meeting. 

The three of them made their way to the edge of town, through the woods, to the cottage. Tao and Elle were already there when they arrived, curled together on the sofa, Elle with a large book open on her lap, Tao with a smaller one beside him as if he’d given up reading a while ago.

“What’s going on?” asked Tao. “What’s the matter?”

“Let’s just wait until everyone’s here,” said Tara.

They didn’t have long to wait. James arrived next, followed by Isaac and finally, Nick hurried inside. He seemed flustered, his hair a mess as he stripped off his cafe apron and shoved it into his bag. “Sorry I’m late. I came as quickly as I could but I had to convince mum to find someone to cover the rest of my shift. This had better be good, Tara—”

“Charlie was attacked.”

Nick stopped mid-ramble. He looked to Charlie, eyes wide. “What?”

Everyone else turned to Charlie in alarm. He shifted uncomfortably beneath their gazes. “Um, well, I wouldn’t say I was attacked but—”

“Charlie, we literally threw a man off you,” said Darcy. “Attack, assault, same difference. It looked like he wanted to hurt you.”

“Whatever.”

Nick dropped his bag beside Charlie’s and sank onto the sofa beside him. “Are you okay? You’re not actually hurt are you? If he—”

Charlie took Nick’s hands and patted them gently. “Breathe, Nick. I’m fine, I promise.” He let his hands go and watched Nick fold them into fists, a tension in his broad shoulders. 

“Who was this guy?” asked Tao. “What did he want?”

“I don’t know exactly.” Charlie leaned a little more into Nick’s shoulder, wanting shared closeness and warmth for the both of them. “He said his name was Simon. He works on a fishing boat. He said he was friends with my dad.”

“I know who he is.” Nick looked up, cheeks a little pale. He shrugged. “Kind of, anyway. He comes into the cafe sometimes. He always keeps to himself, quiet but nice enough. I—I served him a coffee today. It must have been right b-before it happened. Oh, god—”

“Hey, Nick, no, don’t—hey, no.” Charlie slipped an arm around his waist. Nick’s head flopped onto his shoulder. “Don’t think like that. You couldn’t have known, not at all.” Charlie stroked Nick’s back, secretly revelling in the opportunity to do so. “This guy—Simon—he knew my dad was a witch, and he tried to get me to admit that I was too, but then Tara and Darcy showed up and they magically pushed him away.”

“Magic?” said Elle. “You mean it actually worked?”

“Right,” said Darcy. “But only with more than one of us.”

“The point is,” said Isaac. “Charlie was attacked and this man knows about us.”

“It’s not just him, either,” said Charlie. “Imogen is still asking questions about the accident. She remembers you, Elle, glaring at her before she woke up.”

Elle shrank in on herself. “She does?”

Tao re-secured his arm around her. “That’s not good.”

“No,” said Tara. “It isn’t. But I think as long as we stick together, we’ll be okay. We’ve proven that today. Our power isn’t random or out of control anymore. It was like the three of us shared the same thought, the same goal—to get that man away from Charlie—and it played out exactly the way we wanted.”

Nick finally lifted his head and managed a wonky smile. “Thank god.”

“Maybe things wouldn’t have gotten so bad,” said Darcy. “If Charlie had been able to push that man away on his own. Rather than having to wait for us to help him.”

Tara winced but Charlie shook his head. “Maybe this binding has left us more vulnerable in some ways,” he said. “But you came, you helped me, and everything turned out okay.”

“It might not have done, though,” said Darcy. “If we had been thirty seconds later, if we had decided to walk a different way home, if Tara and I had done any number of things differently.”

“Darcy,” said Nick. “Stop it, please.”

“What?” they cried. “I’m just saying, maybe we should be working on finding a new ritual—one that will bring our solo magic back while letting us still be bound.”

“I’m not sure such a thing exists, Darce,” said Tara. “There’s nothing like that in my grimoire.”

“Hmph, well, I’m gonna start looking.” Darcy got to their feet and strode for the bookshelves. Elle drifted up from the sofa to join them. Tao opened his mouth to protest but then closed it and watched the two of them pick books at random and settle back down to read.

The rest of them filed out of the cottage. The sun had set while they’d been talking and the walk back through the woods was an altogether spookier affair. 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Nick whispered before he and Charlie had to part ways home.

“Nick, I’m sure.” He gave his hand a squeeze. “My question is, are you?”

“I will be.” Nick squeezed his hand back. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night.” Charlie channelled all the good feelings he could muster into his smile. “Sweet dreams.”

Before Nick turned away, Charlie could have sworn he saw his cheeks flood pink.

✨

At least she had the dance later, Tara thought as she finally got ready for the day. She had barely slept. Instead, she’d spent most of the night studying every page of her grimoire for a ritual like Darcy had described. She had gone through each page countless times before so she knew there was no such thing, but she couldn’t pretend Darcy didn’t have a point.

It made her feel a bit sick to think what might have happened had she and Darcy not arrived to help Charlie when they did. And she knew that if something worse were to happen it would be her fault. She had been the one to convince the others to bind. She had been the one to lead the ceremony. She’d thought she was helping them, but maybe she’d only led them from one danger into another.

Still, as she did up her tie and checked her appearance in her bedroom mirror, it was nice to not be breaking things or generally causing little annoyances in her day-to-day life. It was nice to know it was now pretty unlikely one of her friends would accidentally murder someone. Swings and roundabouts.

There was a knock on the door and her mum poked her head in. “Are you up?”

“Yep.”

Pauline entered. “I got croissants from Nellie’s for breakfast.”

“Oh, thanks, mum,” said Tara. “We love those.”

“We do.” Pauline perched on the edge of the bed. 

Tara caught sight of her expression in the mirror. “What’s up?”

“Sarah told me about the incident yesterday near Nellie’s. Are you alright? What happened?”

“Oh, that. It was nothing. Just some weird man bugging Charlie.”

Pauline nodded. “Simon Bennett. What was he saying to him?”

“I don’t know. Darcy and I just helped get rid of him. Why? Who is he?”

“Just someone I knew from a long time ago. He went to Truham when I was at Higgs. He’s always been a bit unbalanced, troubled. It would probably be for the best if you stayed away from him.”

“I don’t need any convincing,” said Tara with a flat laugh. “I will gladly stay away from him.”

“Good.” Pauline got up to leave.

“Mum? What were you doing at Truham the other day?”

Pauline paused in the doorway. “I told you, I’m working with the school.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Her mum took a breath, considering how best to explain herself. “What would you say if I told you that Richard and I were seeing each other?”

“Oh my god!” Tara gasped. “Really?”

“Would that bother you?”

“No! Not at all! I’m glad you’re dating. And he’s great. Elle is great.”

Pauline smiled softly. “We’ve just been spending a little time together, that’s all. Nothing serious.”

“But you never know, right?” Tara grinned and went to hug her mother. “I just want you to be happy. You’ve been alone for so long.”

“Thank you.” Pauline kissed Tara’s head and stroked her hair. “Baby steps, though, alright? Your father is a hard act to follow.”

✨

Sweet dreams didn’t come. When Nick had finally been tucked up in bed, lights out, all he had been able to see behind his closed eyelids was a tall, faceless stranger cornering Charlie in a dark alley. No matter how hard he had tried to think of better things—think of the way Charlie had held him in the cottage, how incredible his hands on his back had felt, of how incredible and brave and beautiful he was—not even Nellie’s soft snores at his side could settle him.

He slept through his alarm and ate a hurried breakfast, his mum at the cafe early as usual. He drove across town to school and made it into form just as the second bell rang.

Charlie looked up from their desk and smiled, his relief evident. “Morning,” he said as Nick sat beside him.

“Morning.”

“You look tired.”

Nick shrugged off his coat. “Thanks. I, er, didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Hmm, me neither. I couldn’t stop thinking about Simon.”

Now Nick looked, there were dark circles under his eyes and a definite slump to his narrow shoulders. “Hey, try not to worry about it. Everything’s going to be okay. He’s probably gone back on his fishing boat.”

“But what if he hasn’t? What if—?”

“If he shows his face anywhere near you again I’ll shove him against a wall, see how he likes it.”

Charlie chuckled. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Nick, though I appreciate the sentiment. Maybe you could just put salt in his coffee next time he shows up at the cafe or something.”

“Salt? Maybe arsenic?”

“Have lots of that on hand do you?” Charlie giggled, his eyes shining. 

God, Nick wanted to kiss him. He pictured himself doing it right there and then in the back of form, while Mr Farouk prattled through the register, he thought about leaning in and pressing his lips to his… 

“Nicholas?”

He imagined, for the umpteenth time, what it might be like to run his hands through those glossy, dark curls. How those lithe fingers might feel upon him, how his skin might feel beneath him.

“Nicholas!” 

Something nudged into his elbow, shocking him back into reality. Mr Farouk was glaring at him from the front of the room, eyebrows raised. “Are you present?”

“Wh—yes—yes, sir. Sorry…”

Beside him, Charlie was clearly fighting back laughter. It was incredible, really, how the two of them had gone from tired and worried to cheerful and giggling in a matter of a conversation.

“You have a free period next right?” said Charlie.

“Yes.”

“Want to come to the library with me?”

“Yes. What for?”

“You’ll see…”

The library was usually way too crowded with Year 7s to get any actual work done, so Nick preferred the Sixth Form common room. This morning, however, the library was practically empty except for the two librarians behind the desk, grumbling away about how many sticky substances they’d discovered between the pages of the pop-up books that week.

Still none the wiser about the purpose of their visit, Nick happily followed Charlie to the front desk, then sloped after him after the librarian directed him to a corner where the old Truham Grammar yearbooks were kept. Nick sank onto a sofa, watching as Charlie flicked through the cabinet of old books bound in shades of blue.

“Here,” he said and pulled out a volume embellished with shiny bronze lettering: Year 13 — 2002. 

Charlie settled beside him and Nick’s heart turned over. The sofa was not large and they had to sit squished together. There was another chair across from them. Charlie could have sat there if he’d wanted. But, no, there he was, his side pressed against Nick’s as he leaned over the pages of the yearbook. While Nick’s heart went a mile a minute, he leaned in to peer at the page Charlie had stopped on.

Charlie ghosted his fingertips over one particular awkwardly smiling face.

“He does look like you,” said Nick, looking into the 18-year-old face of Julio Spring. “Or you look like him, I guess.”

“People keep saying that but I mean, he is my dad, so duh! I’m sure you look like your dad.”

Nick shrugged. “Not really. My brother looks more like him. I take after my mum.”

“I don’t even really know what my mum looked like,” said Charlie. He flipped forwards in the yearbook and found her quickly.

“Driscoll,” said Nick, reading the caption beneath the photo. “Jane Driscoll. She really does look like you—same eyes, same cheekbones…”

“She looks happy,” Charlie mused. “I—” His voice broke. 

And Nick realised he was crying, tears slipping silently down his face. “Oh, Char…” He put an arm around him and he leaned more securely against him. “Do you not have many photos of her?”

Charlie shook his head. “One. Of her holding me just after I was born, but other than that…”

“Hey, I know.” Nick extracted his phone from his pocket without jostling Charlie too much. He held it over the yearbook and snapped a photo of Jane Driscoll. “I’ll text it to you. Then you’ll have two photos.”

“Nick, you don’t have to do that—”

“Too late. It’s sent.”

Charlie brushed at his damp cheeks and groaned. “I’m sorry I'm being so emotional. I didn’t realise it would affect me so much, seeing them, seeing her.”

“You say sorry a lot.”

“S—”

“Don’t say it again!”

“I kind of want to say it.”

“Well, don’t!”

Charlie giggled. His eyelashes were clumped together and his eyes looked so bright and blue. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For the photo. But this really wasn’t the point of this library visit. I wanted to look for Simon.”

“Oh?” Nick blinked back down at the yearbook of smiling faces. “Which one is he?”

“Well, I dunno his surname, so… help me look?”

The two of them spent the next several minutes scanning each page of student photos. They made it all the way from D to Z and into the back pages which included group shots of sport teams, clubs and extracurriculars.

And then, towards the very back they found a photograph of three teens lounging under a tree in the Truham grounds, each in the Sixth Form uniform. Nick recognised the boy on the left as Julio Spring. The boy on the right’s black hair had been buzzed to within an inch of its life but his pale skin and dark eyes were instantly familiar. The girl sitting between them, her hand on Simon’s knee, her blonde hair tied in a long plait over one shoulder, was not Jane Driscoll.

“Bennett,” said Charlie, reading the caption. “Julio Spring, Hazel Foster and Simon Bennett.”

“He wasn’t lying about being friends with your dad, then.”

“Apparently not.”

“What exactly did he say to you?”

Charlie sighed, trying to remember. “He said that I should never have come here. That he… he wasn’t going to let ‘it’ happen again.”

Nick frowned. “Do you think he meant the barn fire?”

“Probably. What else could it be?”

“If he knew Julio was a witch, do you think he remembers what happened?”

“He might have even been there,” said Charlie. “ He’s not a witch, I don’t think—it didn’t seem like he was—so he’s under no restrictions about what he can and can’t talk about. Which means he could tell us all sorts.”

“Charlie…”

“What?”

“I know what you’re thinking but absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“He already attacked you once—”

“Okay, we really need to stop calling it that. Attacked is a strong word. He kind of just grabbed me and yelled at me.” Nick raised his eyebrows. “Fine, I see your point. It’s just… aren’t you curious?”

“Oh, definitely. Only, let’s keep as far away from scary grabby yelly people as we can, please.”

Charlie pouted. “Why do you have to be so sensible?”

“One of us has got to be.”

But Nick didn’t feel all that sensible when he set off for his second period class and realised he’d neglected to ask Charlie to the fucking dance. Again. Idiot.

✨

The nights were getting chilly now October had arrived. Pauline shivered in her long black coat as she leaned against her car. She had wanted somewhere more private to have this conversation, but perhaps there had been warmer options than the little-used road through the woods. When Richard finally arrived, he parked so close that when he stepped out they were already face to face.

He pulled a thread-bare scarf around his neck. “What’s going on?” 

“Simon Bennett approached Charlie yesterday.”

“Well, there’s a name from the past,” said Richard. “What did he want?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think he knows anything that can hurt us. He wasn’t there that night.”

“He was friends with Julio.”

Pauline shook her head. “He wouldn’t have told him anything.”

“We have no idea what he told him.”

“It’s been sixteen years,” said Pauline. “Why would he start talking now?”

“Because Julio’s son is here. Just… talk to him.”

“I intend to.” She fixed Richard with a determined stare. “Give me the crystal.”

She should have expected the huff of incredulous laughter, and the shake of the head. “Just talk, okay?” said Richard. “We can’t kill everybody who gets in our way.”

“And suddenly you have scruples?”

“Dead bodies tend to raise questions, Pauline. It isn’t smart.”

“Fine.”

They both turned back to their cars.

“Oh,” said Pauline, remembering. “And I, um, told Tara we’re dating.”

Richard froze with his hand on the door of his car. “You did what?”

“I had no choice. She knew I was lying to her about visiting Truham.”

“And she believed it?”

“Yes, she did. Is that so hard to imagine?”

And Pauline suspected the poor man was actually a little flustered by the thought. “Just… talk to Simon.” 

She watched him get into his car, a small smile on her face, despite what she now knew she had to do.

✨

Thank goodness for all the free periods being a Sixth Former gave you, Darcy thought as they sat cross legged on the floorboards of the cottage. Though, they had never spent so much of their free time buried in books before. 

Elle sat down across from them and placed her phone between them. Isaac was sprawled on the sofa, paying just enough attention to spurt random snarky comments from behind his book ( Weyward by Emilia Hart).

“Let’s concentrate at exactly the same time,” said Darcy.

Elle nodded and closed her eyes.

“Are you concentrating?”

“I’m trying,” Elle murmured. “It’s harder when I’m answering your questions.”

“Okay,” said Darcy. “When I count to three, focus all your energy on moving the phone towards you.”

“Alright.”

“One, two, three…”

Darcy focused on the wooden floorboards beneath them, on the air around them, on Elle’s energy nearby. They peeled their eyes open in time to see the phone slide across the floor, into Elle’s open hands.

“We did it!” Elle cried, holding her phone aloft with a grin.

“Ugh!” Darcy got to their feet. “Last week I was lighting candles and opening doors without having to hold someone’s hand to do it.”

“But who knows what else we can do now—together,” said Elle. “It’s way more precise this way.”

“And I assume,” said Isaac. “The more of us doing a spell, the stronger it is.”

Elle clapped her hands in excitement. “I wonder what we could do the three of us.”

“We should gather a bunch more of these books and take them home to look through,” said Darcy. “Ooh! I know, we should so have a magical researching sleepover. Elle, your dad’s chaperoning the dance right? Your house will be empty. We could come over at like eight and get all cosy and… What is it?”

“Um…” said Isaac, exchanging guilty looks with Elle. “We were thinking of going to the dance, actually.”

“Yeah,” said Elle. “I’ve been planning my outfit for weeks.”

“A school dance?” Darcy scoffed. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“But why though?”

“Because we want to go?” Elle folded her arms. “Just because we’re witches doesn’t mean we can’t go to dances.”

“We don’t go to school dances, Elle, because they’re shit,” said Darcy. “Isaac, back me up on this.”

“Um, I like dancing, too,” said Isaac. “It is probably going to be shit, to be fair, but I still want to go.”

“Well, alright then,” said Darcy. “You two go ahead. I’ll just keep looking on my own. Although, there’s no way I can hide all these books from my mum. I can just stay here all night, she won’t notice…”

When the others finally left to get ready for the dance, Darcy was already bored of the books. Their mind kept wandering across town to the school hall where they knew Tara would be looking so incredible in whatever floaty dress she’d picked out for the evening. She’d be so excited and a little stressed, as she had been since she’d joined the decorating committee. And Darcy would not be there to vent to or dance with or complement her. 

Fuck, Darcy thought. They’d really messed up.

But at the same time, this was important work. Tara was such a good person, sometimes she forgot others had bad intentions. Darcy would find something that would help them. Anything. So that none of them had to rely on the others for help ever again—so they could help themselves if and when they needed.

With a tired sigh, Darcy chucked aside yet another hefty tome and got to their feet. The sun had long set and the night was very dark beyond the broken windows of the cottage. The old lights flickered around the room as they perused the notice board Elle had fixed to the wall a month after they’d found the place. Stuck to it were mostly photographs, memes and doodles, but tucked under a daisy-shaped push pin was a slip of paper featuring some tidy blue writing. Darcy looked closer. Oh, it was just that stupid plant watering spell Nick found. So boring. So useless.

Shaking their head, they turned away from the board and cast their gaze across the table below. It was scattered with all manner of plants and herbs, ingredients needed for more complex spells, many of which had never quite worked the way they’d hoped. They spied a half-melted candle and picked it up.

They cleared their throat and focused on the blackened wick. “Give me fire.”

Nothing happened.

Darcy closed their eyes and tried again. “Give me fire… please?”

Absolutely fuck all. 

They threw the candle across the room, then winced as it crashed into some shelves. 

Ugh! Now they’d have to clean! Or they could just leave and let someone else do it later…

They turned to grab their bag from beside the sofa and heard footsteps creak on the floorboards by the front door. They shouldered their bag and was about to head out when a man stepped into the room.

A man with dark hair and pale skin.

Simon.

Chapter Text

chapter six: with someone else

“Simon?”

The man moved further into the room, eying Darcy curiously.

“Stay away,” they said. “I’ll call the police.”

“And tell them what? That the eight of you are witches?”

Darcy tightened their grip on their bag straps. “How do you know that?”

“I know your families,” said Simon. “I know you and I know your friends. I just have one question: have you bound your coven?”

Darcy took a step back and collided with a side table. It wobbled as they steadied themself against it. “Don’t come any closer, I’m serious.”

“Then stop me.”

Darcy reached to grab the heavy lamp which sat on the table beside them, but Simon was quick. In two long strides he crossed the room. He shoved the table over. The lamp crashed to the floor, scattering glass. Darcy darted out of the way. 

Breathing hard, Simon glared up at them, his dark hair hanging over his eyes. “Alone you have no power,” he said. “You have really bound your coven.”

He lunged for Darcy, one large, pale hand extended. They twisted aside, grabbed a chair from the desk in the corner and threw it with all their might at the man’s face. They didn’t wait to see if they’d struck true, only ran full speed for the front door and slipped out into the dark woods, Simon’s shouts of anger growing ever distant behind them.

✨

An hour ago, when he’d nipped home to change for the dance, Charlie had felt reasonably put together. He’d meticulously done his hair and picked out a nice shirt. But the second he had returned to school, he had been roped into helping Aleena reattach the massive cardboard moon to the stage curtains for the tenth time that day. 

The dance was moon-themed for some reason. He thought they’d done a good job despite the lack of resources and funding. Tara and Imogen had spent hours in the Higgs art rooms crafting silver bunting, streamers and of course, the giant moon which had been incredible when they’d first seen it but was now the bane of their existence since it wouldn’t stay up. Charlie helped mop up a premature juice spillage after Jay knocked into the drinks table with a speaker, and by the time the first students arrived, Charlie felt rather frazzled, a little juice-stained and he knew without looking his hair was a mess again. 

Through all of it, Imogen had been running around like a headless chicken, unable to help as much as she wanted due to her arm being in a sling. She and Charlie stood at the side of the hall, now, and watched their fellow classmates arrive in dribs and drabs.

As the room steadily filled, Charlie suspected they had both come to the same conclusion. Imogen sighed. Charlie nodded. “Should have—”

“Should have told everyone to wear silver or white. The colour scheme is completely ruined!” Imogen groaned. She flicked at his shirt. “Ugh! And you’re no better, Charlie. Red? Really?”

“Hey, I like this shirt.”

Jay stood up from their DJ table on the stage and began to wave furiously at Imogen. With another world-weary sigh, she set off to deal with their newest sound issue.

Charlie looked around at the hall, now full of people standing in huddles, shout-chatting over the music, lights refracting silver and glittering across the floor. Maybe it didn’t matter that the people didn’t match the aesthetic. The pop of colour tied it all together nicely, actually—the colours felt better, more natural, especially when they spent enough time in uniform as it was.

Charlie set off slowly around the hall, peering between groups of friends, over people’s heads, wondering whether Nick had arrived yet. But he didn’t even make it halfway along the first wall before Ben appeared from between the crowd. Shit. Had he really forgotten all about Ben?

“Hey.”

“You look nice,” said Charlie, because really, Ben was not bad to look at.

Ben smirked. “Thanks.”

The two of them stood there glancing from each other to the people around them for several very long, very awkward seconds. Charlie wondered why he’d done this to himself. What had been the point? To prove something to himself? To Nick? That he could be and was desirable and worthy of a date to the dance? Or that he could be normal and do normal things like go to a school dance with a boy he thought was cute?

“Want to get a drink?”

“Okay.” 

And then Ben’s hand was around Charlie’s—a little too firm, a little not great—and he was leading him across the dance floor to the drinks table. Charlie sighed and considered how revolutionary this was for him, considering his track record. Back at his old school he’d never have imagined such a scenario for himself and actually think it would come true. He was holding hands with a boy at a dance and no one was batting an eyelid.

They made it to the table and, a cup of Sprite in his hand, Charlie promised himself he would not ruin Ben’s night. He would be a good date, they would have fun together, and maybe they would be friends. Maybe this was okay, he thought. Maybe this was nice. 

But then, a cluster of people entered through the main doors and there he was. Nick. And suddenly, it didn’t feel that nice.

✨

How the fuck had he missed Charlie and Ben fucking Hope?

Nick had been kicking himself all week for being too chicken to ask Charlie to the dance, and for some reason he hadn’t even considered that someone else would get there first. Not because he didn’t think anyone else would take an interest in Charlie—of course they would, how could they not? — but Ben?

“Oh my god,” Elle gasped. “Is that Ben Hope? With Charlie?”

“Holy shit,” said James. “What an absolute twat.”

The three of them along with Tao and Isaac stood near the main entrance, staring across the crowded dance floor at where Charlie and Ben were standing together, their backs to them as they perused the buffet table, their hands joined like a vice around Nick’s heart.

“Didn’t you two break up, like, last week?” said Isaac.

“Crap.” James put his head in his hands. “Maybe I should have warned him. A shiny new gay guy, Ben was bound to swoop in as soon as I dropped him.”

“And that was a fast swoop,” said Elle. “Fast and silent. I mean, who saw that coming?”

“Not me,” said Nick. The others all turned to see just how shattered he was. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey,” said Elle, a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not—”

“I dunno,” said Tao. “Why didn’t you ask Charlie to the dance before that dickhead got there? You’ve had plenty of time to do it.”

“Tao…” Elle chided.

“I’m serious,” said Tao. “They spend every weekend together and practically every break and lunch.”

“And all that time in form,” Isaac added.

Nick closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again. “Look, you’re right, Tao. But at the same time… Charlie is the best friend I’ve ever had and I don’t want to mess that up by… by…”

“Admitting that you’re in love with him.” Elle nodded. “I understand. It is scary.”

“But at the same time,” said Isaac. He waved a hand towards Charlie and Ben. “This is what happens when you hold yourself back. Listen to me, Charlie likes you back. I know it.”

“But how do you know that for certain?”

Isaac sighed. “The way the two of you look at each other—”

“Hey, guys!” 

Nick blinked out of his uncertain daze and turned with the others to find Tara had joined their little huddle. 

“Have any of you seen Darcy?”

“Didn’t they tell you?” asked Elle, exchanging a look with Isaac. “We left them in the cottage with their books. They’re still dead set on finding a way to get our solo magic back and well, that seemed more important to them than some silly school dance.”

Tara frowned. “I knew they weren’t completely thrilled about this dance but… why didn’t they just tell me?”

Elle and Isaac shrugged. Tara sighed and took out her phone, ready to tell Darcy off for their lack of communication. 

Nick wanted to tell himself off for the same thing, and a little bit to tell Charlie off. Because if he really did like him back then he was sending some weird signals by being at the dance with someone else. When had that even happened? He racked his brain and tried to remember when Charlie had mentioned Ben even once. He couldn’t think of a time. And Nick remembered most of what Charlie told him.

Isaac nudged Tara’s arm and exclaimed, “Ooh, future stepdad alert!”

Tara looked up from her phone and saw Mr Argent standing by the far wall with Mr Lange, the pair of them not exactly looking thrilled to be chaperoning on a Friday night.

“That’s not funny,” she said, pocketing her phone. “I should go and talk to him I suppose. He probably knows my mum told me they’re dating and I don’t want it to be weird.”

Leaving Isaac to look after the still stunned Nick, Tara set off towards the head teacher. “Hi, Mr Argent.”

“Tara, how are you? Having a good time?”

“Yes, thank you.” She cleared her throat. “I just wanted to say… my mum told me that the two of you are seeing each other and I think it’s great. And she seems really happy about it.”

Mr Argent’s eyes crinkled as he laughed. “Well, your mum is a special woman.”

“Yeah,” said Tara. “She is.”

“Well,” said Richard, catching her threatening tone. “Have a nice night.” And he hurried away, satisfyingly flustered. Tara gave Mr Lange, who had clearly been eavesdropping, an awkward nod and set off back to her friends.

Meanwhile, Nick had only moved enough to keep Charlie and Ben in his sights. Though the two had not gone far, only to one of the tables. Charlie was sitting there, looking perfect, a plastic cup of something between his hands, while Ben leaned against the table beside him. Ben seemed to be doing most of the talking and Charlie didn’t look exactly riveted by what he was saying. But maybe that was just Nick’s wishful thinking. 

A huddle of girls entered the hall then and cut off Nick’s view. The change in scenery was like a kick to his system and he suddenly realised what he had just been doing. God, how creepy was he? How disgustingly territorial? You couldn’t even find the courage to ask your crush to the dance and now you’re angry someone else did?

He looked around for a friend, literally any of his friends, and found he was standing there alone. Across the room, Tao and Elle were raiding the food table. Tara was chatting with James and Aleena by the stage and Isaac was nowhere to be seen. He’d probably found somewhere quieter to read, Nick thought, though he wished Isaac had stayed. He had a way of reducing the tension, of helping the rest of their dramatic arses see the bigger picture.

As Nick watched James and the others chat, he remembered all of the toxic things James had told them about Ben now they were no longer together, remembered how Ben had always been even before his secret relationship with James. Back when they all thought he was just another homophobic straight boy.

A flare of panic dropped into Nick’s stomach, masking some of his own devastation. His feet moved before he could think about what he was doing. He ducked between the girls blocking his path and found a new, uninhibited view of Charlie.

He blinked.

Charlie was still sitting in the same place—but now he was alone.

Nick stared. He looked left and right. 

No sign of Ben anywhere.

What an absolute knob. You do not get to bring Charlie Spring to a party and then leave him alone.

Nick watched Charlie sip his drink and marvelled at how the lights struck his gorgeous, sharp features, the line of his brow, his nose and his chin.

Ben may have swooped fast, but Nick could swoop true.

“Hi.”

Charlie looked up and beamed, his demeanour changing at once. “Hi! You came! I didn’t think you were here. I’ve been looking for you for ages.” He lifted his arms and pulled Nick into a hug. 

Heart fluttering happily, Nick squeezed him back, then sank into the chair beside him. “You look so nice. As always.”

Charlie blushed, his nose crinkling in the way it always did when he was bashful. “So do you. But I honestly think you could wear a bin bag and still look cute.”

Nick laughed. “Maybe I needn’t have tried on so many shirts if a bin bag would have done.”

Charlie leant his chin on his hand and giggled. His eyes glittered in the fake-moonlight and Nick could hardly stand it. “So,” he said, trying to calm his racing heart. “Which decorations did you do?”

“Oh, a bit of everything,” said Charlie, glancing around at the bunting and the streamers. “Imogen and Tara did most of the artsy stuff. I did hang that moon about ten times today, so…”

Nick chuckled. “That seems fitting.”

“Yeah,” said Charlie. “Because I keep doing a shit job and it keeps falling down.”

“I don’t think so,” said Nick. “I think maybe the moon is just badly made.”

“Guys, please dance!” Imogen suddenly appeared. She grabbed both their arms and yanked them to their feet. Charlie just managed to chuck his drink onto the table before it spilled. “No one is dancing. This cannot be one of those lame parties where no one dances.”

“Oh, um…” Charlie looked around, worried. “I should probably dance with Ben.”

“If you go out there, I’m sure others will follow.” Imogen gave Nick a push towards the dance floor, then pushed Charlie after him, making him stumble. Nick reached out to catch him as Imogen flounced away again to do the same to James and Tara.

“She is such a meddler,” said Charlie, steadying himself on Nick’s arms. “She did that on purpose.”

“What’s wrong?” Nick raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you want to dance with me?”

Charlie laughed. “Of course I do.”

And then the song changed. From some pop song neither of them knew, to a slower one.

I wanna breathe your air, 

Press your chest against mine, 

I wanna disappear, 

Drink piña coladas in the far sunlight…

Nick glanced around and realised they were standing in the very centre of the dance floor. His arms were still around Charlie from when he’d caught him, and Charlie hadn’t let him go yet either. He felt so good there, between his arms like that. They began to sway, a little hesitantly, a little awkwardly. Nick couldn’t believe how his luck had turned. Charlie slid his hands more comfortably around his waist, leaving delicious tingles in his wake, and Nick only just managed to stifle a gasp. Their eyes met and Nick was struck once again by how utterly stupid he had been.

“I’m sorry if I stand on your feet,” Charlie whispered.

Nick smiled softly. “You’re not.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Nothing. It’s just… I know it’s not really any of my business, but… Why are you here with Ben?”

“Oh. Well, he asked me last week and… I didn’t see why not.”

“Why not? Ben Hope is a dick, Charlie. I didn’t throw him into the Seine for nothing, even if it was an accident.”

“Wait, what?” Charlie stopped swaying to stare up at him in disbelief. “That’s that Ben?” 

Nick nodded and Charlie looked so devastated he half wished he hadn’t said anything. 

Charlie dropped his gaze, shaking his head. “Shit. I knew his name seemed familiar.”

“Did you know he and James were dating up until like a week ago?”

Charlie’s eyes widened.

“I couldn’t believe it when James told me about them,” said Nick. “Ever since I’ve known him, Ben has been a massive homophobe, always been a nasty piece of work. But it sort of makes sense, too. Ben hates Ben, hated James and what he represented. He was horrible to him, especially towards the end.”

“Wow, I’m an idiot,” said Charlie. “I really, really fucked up. I’m so sorry, Nick, I should have…”

“No, I’m sorry—you didn’t know and I didn’t… I didn’t give you another option.” 

More couples were slow dancing around them now, but it was like the rest of the room had fallen away. 

“I should have been braver,” said Charlie. “Ben may be a dickhead, but so am I… a bit, anyway. I should never have agreed to come here with him. It wasn’t fair. I’ve—I’ve been thinking of and wishing I was here with someone else all evening. And now here I am.” He swallowed. “With someone else.”

Nick’s breath caught. “Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you go to the dance with me?”

Charlie breathed a laugh. “You are such a dork.”

“Well, will you?”

“I would love to.” His eyes were shining. “Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you kiss me?”

Fake moonlight glimmered, refracting off each dark corner of the hall, leaving only a single bubble of silver surrounding them both. At least that’s what it felt like to Nick.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes.”

Already in the circle of his arms, he was warm and soft and delicate and strong and he was kissing him.

And Nick was astonished. 

Of all the times he’d imagined this moment—and he’d imagined little else over the past few weeks—never had he thought it would change everything. He had expected the softness, the warmth, the colour, the heartstopping joy, but the clarity? The security? The promise? Somehow he knew then that this was it. And that Charlie knew too. He tasted sweet, like sugar and lemon, and his body in his arms was trembling. Or was that Nick? 

He tightened his embrace and deepened the kiss, lest they both toppled over. He understood suddenly why kisses in films were filmed the way they so often were, with the camera endlessly circling, circling: the very ground beneath their feet was unsteady and he clung to him, knowing he would hold him up, too.

Nick’s palms smoothed down Charlie’s back. He could feel him breathing against him; a gasp in between kisses. His thin fingers were in his hair, on the back of his neck, tangling gently, and Nick remembered the first time he saw him and thought: Here he is. Here’s my person.

The music became audible again to him first, as if someone had turned the sound back on. He drew back from Charlie in time to see a flurry of movement out the corner of his eye. 

“Nick! Charlie!” came Isaac’s cry. Their arms were still around each other. Charlie’s eyes were still half-closed. “Oh my god, it happened! I am so pleased for you both but—” Isaac almost barrelled into them. His face was pale and he had to take a deep breath. “Simon broke into the cottage while Darcy was there alone and now he’s after all of us.”

“What?”

“Are they okay?”

“They’re out in the corridor, come on!”

Still in a daze, Nick and Charlie grabbed each other’s hands and hurried after Isaac. They quickly extracted Tao and Elle and together, found Tara and Darcy standing in the middle of the corridor outside, arms around each other, in clear shock.

“Hey,” said Nick. “Are you alright? Isaac said—”

“He attacked me,” Darcy gasped. “I had no way of defending myself because we got rid of the fucking solo magic. He’s on his way right now. I don’t know how long we’ve got.”

“Darcy, you did the right thing,” said Charlie. “We’re stronger together, right?”

“Okay,” said Nick. “We need to hide and then we need a plan.”

Nick and Charlie led the way down the corridor, deeper into the darkened school.

“I’m sorry,” Tara gasped, close to tears as she clung to Darcy’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, no,” Darcy whispered. “I don’t blame you, not at all. You didn’t know—none of us knew what would happen and it’s good that there’s been no accidents because of us but at the same time… maybe that’s exactly what Charlie and I needed in our times of need, you know?”

“That’s not important right now,” said Elle. “This guy is after us. For some reason he hates our guts and wants us… what? Dead?”

A chill ran down Nick’s spine at Elle’s words. Charlie yanked open the nearest classroom door and ducked inside. Nick and the others followed swiftly and James shut the door behind them with a soft snap. All eight of them let out a collective breath.

“Why though?” said Tao, leaning against a desk. “What have we ever done to him?”

“Tao, I don’t think it’s about what we’ve done,” said Charlie. “It’s about what we are. And there’s a chance he knows something about the fire that killed our parents.”

“How do you know that?” asked Isaac.

Charlie exchanged a look with Nick and shrugged. “He sort of hinted at it to me, and then Nick and I looked him up in an old yearbook. He and my dad really were friends.”

“And he definitely knows we’re witches,” said Darcy. “And something has definitely made him scared or angry enough to come after us like this.”

“Look,” said Isaac. “This man is coming after us right now—there’s no time for us to figure everything out. Maybe he’s already here. Either way, we need a plan.”

“We could threaten him, I suppose,” said James. “Scare him enough that he backs off?”

“I think we should trap him,” said Charlie. “Lock him in somewhere and question him. Ask him about the fire.”

“Are you insane?” Tao exclaimed. “That could go seriously wrong!”

“Charlie,” said Darcy. “I think maybe we should go with James’ idea. I understand why you’d want—”

“But how else are we gonna find out more stuff?”

“The school records,” said Elle. “If we can find out more about him, maybe we could find a motive. Maybe then we can make a more informed decision.”

“But how would we even get access to those?” asked Nick.

Elle reached into her pocket and took out a set of keys. She dangled them in front of them all with a mischievous grin. At their stunned looks, she laughed. “No, I didn’t steal them. I just drove here in dad’s car and his office key’s on here with the others.”

Tao slung an arm around her, grinning. “Oh, well, good job, babe.”

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside made each of them freeze.

“Shit,” James hissed. “Is it him?”

Before anyone could reply or even breathe a full breath, the door opened. Nick and Charlie drew closer together, but then, a second later, Charlie dropped his hand and stepped away. And Nick’s heart plummeted.

“So this is where the party is!”

“Ben,” Nick murmured. “For fuck’s sake…”

“Hey, Ben, there you are,” said Charlie, overly cheerfully. “I was… er… just roping this lot into helping Imogen with some decorating committee stuff.”

“Yeah, Charlie,” said Tao quickly. “Why don’t you head back in and we’ll handle the whole clean-up problem.”

Nick opened his mouth to protest but then Charlie looked back at Tao and frowned. “Are you sure?”

Not looking exactly sure, but having to go with what he’d set in motion, Tao nodded.

Pale-faced but trying to hide his nerves, Charlie looked from Tao to Nick, whispered, “I’ll be right back,” then followed Ben out of the room.

✨

The marina was dark and damp and freezing. The sky was clear, but the stars winking down at Pauline as she strode along, her hands deep in her coat pockets, did nothing to reassure her. But she would not, could not show weakness. Not in front of this man. This normal, mundane man.

Though sometimes, she knew, little else could be more dangerous.

“Hello, Simon,” she said when she finally found the right boat. It was a small vessel with chipped white paint, the cabin modest, the windows murky. She figured it was his because he stepped off it as she approached. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” he said, as if they really were only two old school friends. “I figured you’d be along to say hello.”

“Well, you’ve been bothering my daughter. Why would you do something like that?”

“Your daughter is a witch,” said Simon. “And so are her friends.”

Pauline forced a sharp laugh. “Witchcraft? Really, Simon? Are we back to those rumours? What are we, teenagers again?”

Simon shook his head. “Pauline, I know what you are. Julio and I were close—he told me everything.”

“The way I remember it, Julio hated you.”

The man’s dark eyes flashed. “And the deeper he got in with all of you, the further he pushed me and Hazel away.”

“Hazel,” said Pauline. “What a shame.”

“She never stopped believing in Julio and look what happened. Now that Charlie Spring is back it’s happening all over again.”

“You’re paranoid. There’s simply nothing going on.”

Simon took a step closer along the dock. “You know they’re practising, and yet you’re not stopping them. What are you up to?”

“That is the kind of accusation that can get you in trouble.”

“I hoped this day would never come,” said Simon. “But I’m afraid I have no other choice.” 

With impressive speed, he reached just inside his boat and came back up with a large plank of wood swinging in his hands. There was no time to duck, but Pauline threw her arms up over her head and used her arm to block it from smashing into her face. The next second, there was a thunk as Simon dropped the plank. Another and his fist hurtled towards her face. The impact sent her sprawling onto the dock and her head spinning with pain.

She blinked up, her cheek throbbing, and watched, furious as Simon reached into his pocket and drew a knife, the blade glimmering in the moonlight. “All I have to do,” he said, panting hard. “Is kill one of them. Just one—and then they’re finished.” He leapt over her prone form and hurtled down the dock, out of sight.

✨

As Nick followed the others further into the school, towards Mr Argent’s office, it was with an almost physical sensation of being pulled in the wrong direction. Like something had tethered him and Charlie together and now it was being stretched to its limit. 

At the same time, he was quietly surprised at how little he was worried about Charlie being unfaithful. He was worried about what Ben would say to him, absolutely terrified about what could happen if they didn’t get back to Charlie before Simon arrived, but there was no doubt in Nick’s mind that Charlie wouldn’t choose Ben. Not after that kiss. Not after everything.

They came to the office door and Elle quickly opened it with her key. Tara and Darcy led the way inside, around the desk and into the large spinny chair. Nick and Isaac followed while Tao and Elle hovered in the doorway.

“Keep watch?” Tao said to James, who nodded and remained in the corridor.

“What’s your dad’s password?” asked Darcy, reaching for the keyboard.

“Try 040506,” said Elle. “My birthday.”

Nick crouched beside the chair and watched as Darcy typed in the numbers. All four of them blinked in surprise when the computer unlocked on the first try. With Isaac’s help, Darcy managed to navigate to the school records database and typed into the search bar: Simon Bennett. Luckily, there was only one person with that name. Nick leaned further forward as Darcy scrolled through the record.

“His grades were pretty average,” said Darcy. “In the running club. He got a lot of detentions for… excessive lateness, disruptive behaviour, acting out in class, unexpected absence, throwing objects in class…”

“My mum did say he got into a lot of trouble at school,” said Tara.

“Look,” said Isaac, pointing at the screen. “He was suspended—for fighting and skipping school with Hazel Foster.”

“Wait,” said Nick. “Hazel Foster? We saw her in the yearbook with both of them. She was friends with Charlie’s dad, too.”

Darcy reached for the keyboard again and typed in Hazel Foster. “Okay,” they said, leaning forward to look at the second record. “She was on the student council with Julio and… the yearbook committee and the volleyball team… and a whole load of other stuff.”

“Let me check something,” said Tara.

Darcy leaned away to let Tara take up the keyboard. She pulled up Google and searched Hazel Foster, Rochester, Kent. Several results came up but Tara clicked on the top most one. It was an article from The Medway News and the headline was Local Teens Killed in Tragic Barn Fire.

“What?” said Tao. “What is it?”

“Come and look at this,” said Nick.

Tao and Elle hurried around the desk to huddle around the screen, too. 

Most of the page was taken up by a photograph of the blaze. It was night time in the photo and Nick couldn’t make out much more than a mass of flames and smoke, two firefighters trying to put it out. Underneath was a caption: Deceased: Mariam Argent, Jane Driscoll, Hazel Foster, Stéphane Fournier, Colin Henderson, Laura McEwan, Matthew McEwan, Peter Olsson, Tian Xu.

“She was there,” said Nick. “But why? Was she a witch?”

Isaac grabbed the mouse to scroll down and scanned the article quickly. “Among the victims was Hazel Foster… and all our parents… and that’s it. That’s all it says.”

Tara and Darcy leaned back in the chair and everyone exchanged stunned, confused looks.

“What the fuck?” said Tao. “I’ve literally never heard of this woman.”

But Nick’s brain was turning over. He kept thinking back to that photograph of the three friends from the yearbook. Julio, Simon and Hazel. About how they had been sitting. About how Simon and Hazel had been sitting. “That must be it…”

“What?” said Darcy. “What must be it?”

“That’s why Simon is so furious,” said Nick. “I think he and Hazel were close—maybe they were together, I don’t know—but either way, I think she died in the fire. She died because of witchcraft and he…”

“He blames what happened to her on our parents,” said Tara. “And now he’s taking it out on us?”

Nick got to his feet. He couldn’t take it anymore. “We need to find Charlie.”

✨

A faster song was playing now and the hall was alive with students dancing. Everyone seemed to be having a great time. Well, except the teachers. Mr Lange looked like he was trying to glare everyone out of existence, while Mr Argent looked a little sweaty and a lot tired, like he was beginning to regret arranging the whole thing.

Charlie turned back to his date, the boy he’d agreed to come to the stupid dance with and the one he was now beginning to feel bad for all over again. They were once again seated awkwardly side by side at a random table. He believed Nick’s assessment of Ben one hundred percent—and that kiss—Charlie had been such an idiot for letting Ben cloud his judgement, but at the same time, Charlie had also betrayed Ben.

“People are dancing,” said Charlie. “Imogen will be relieved.”

“Do you want to dance?” asked Ben, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “Just so you know, I’m excellent at it.”

Charlie forced a laugh. Ben was smarmy, for sure, but despite everything, Charlie wanted to spare his feelings as much as he could. But he needed to say his piece and get back to the others. There were more important things on the line than who asked who to the dance now.

“I’m good here,” said Charlie.

“If dancing’s not your thing,” said Ben. “We could get out of here?”

“What?”

Ben leaned in closer and placed a hand on Charlie’s thigh. “This school is full of dark corners. We could utilise a few of my faves.”

Charlie flinched. Froze. The heat of Ben’s hand was like a vice, suffocating and wrong. “No—no, thank you.” He tried to swallow but his throat had gone suddenly dry. “Look, Ben, I’m really sorry. I should never have agreed to come here with you.” 

Ben let his hand fall away and Charlie took a deep breath. He forced himself to look Ben in the eye—and saw the charming twinkle there vanish. 

“I kind of like someone else… I was too much of a chicken to ask him to the dance, but I should never have led you on. I’m truly sorry if I ruined your night, but I think… I’m just gonna go and find my friends.”

He was up out of his chair and through the nearest door into the corridor before Ben caught up with him.

“Hey!”

Charlie whirled around, shocked.

“You don’t get to walk away from me that easily.”

Quicker than his heart could drop, Charlie’s back was against the wall and Ben’s hands were on him. “Come on,” Ben gasped, his breath hot in Charlie’s face. “That nerdy, delicate twink act, it’s so fucking hot—we don’t even have to find a corner if you’d rather be out in the open.”

Charlie shoved at Ben’s chest. “Get—off—me…”

Ben gripped Charlie’s chin, his fingers long and ice cold as he forced his head up and his lips against his. Everything slowed down. A sharp ringing sound flooded Charlie’s head. He didn’t know how long he stood there, trapped and sickened with himself, but when his brain turned back on his mouth was swollen and Ben’s hands had moved to his hips.

Charlie took his chance. He pushed out at Ben’s chest with all his might. The second Ben stumbled back, Charlie ducked out from between him and the wall and ran.

✨

Back in the hall, Nick scanned the crowd, trying not to become frantic. He would be here. He would just be sitting at a different table. Just be dancing with a different group of people. Just chatting to Imogen over by the stage. “Imogen!” Nick cried as he hurried towards her. He was only half aware of the others following along, each of them searching, too. “Imogen!”

“Nicholas!” she exclaimed. “Having a good time?”

“Have you seen Charlie?”

She seemed to catch the desperation in his face then and she chewed at her lip. “Oh, um… well, I did see him sitting with Ben Hope a while ago.” She looked around at the table nearest the door they’d just entered through. “They must have gone off somewhere else. Oh, Nick,” she said, touching his arm. “I don’t think you have anything to be worried about there, Ben’s just—”

“An arse, yeah, Imogen, thanks, I know.”

“Wait, there he is!” James exclaimed.

Nick turned to see Ben sidle into the hall. Watched the door swing closed behind him. “Ben!” he shouted, striding over to him. “Where’s Charlie?”

Ben shot him a look of disgust, so calm and collected, so casual, it made Nick’s blood boil. “I dunno, mate. He just ran off on me. Can’t think who might have poisoned him towards me…”

“Nick didn’t need to do anything,” James spat, appearing at Nick’s side. “You did that yourself, you fuckwit.”

“I suppose that answers that, then,” said Ben, lazily. “Well, you can keep him, Nelson. I should have suspected you were into the weepy, pathetic type.”

“Don’t you fucking talk about him—”

“Nick!” A pair of hands appeared on Nick’s arm and Tara’s gentle but urgent voice was in his ear. “Leave it,” she hissed. “He’s a knob, but we don’t have time for this.”

Nothing else but fear for Charlie could have broken through the fizzing of Nick’s rage. He let Tara and the others guide him away from Ben fucking Hope and back out into the corridor.

“Come on, Nick,” said Elle. “Breathe.”

“What an absolute twat waffle, honestly,” said Darcy. “He can so be our next Team Witchy attack, I promise, but right now—Simon says kill the witches and we are witches.”

✨

Around another corner, down another dark corridor, Charlie needed to create as much space between himself and Ben as he could. The door of Mr Argent’s office finally came into view. He’d almost forgotten all about Simon. All he’d been thinking was to get away from Ben and get back to Nick.

He hurtled for the office door and jiggled the handle. 

It was locked. 

“Shit.” He peered through the small window and saw the office was empty. “Fuck.” 

Where had they gone?

Charlie sank against the wall, a hand over his mouth as his mind and heart raced. His cheeks were wet. He swiped at them in frustration. He didn’t have time to contemplate what had just happened to him. He needed to get back to the others, and then everything would be okay.

His hands shook. He balled them into fists and took a huge, steadying breath.

The wall behind him was sturdy and cool—he stepped away from it and looked left and right down the corridor. The school was deserted, eerie in its stillness. He couldn’t even hear the music from the dance from here.

Which was how the smallest of noises made him jump.

He spun around. Someone had appeared, silhouetted, at the far end of the corridor. A tall, masculine person with swoopy hair.

“Ben?”

The man strode further into the light and Charlie’s eyes widened.

The man was taller than Ben, broader in the shoulders and older. Simon.

For a second, their eyes locked. The next, Charlie turned and ran. He sprinted down the corridor, his shoes squeaking annoyingly loudly on the shiny floors. But no—it wasn’t only his shoes squeaking—Simon had given chase.

✨

Luckily, the fire door of the main hall of Truham Grammar had been propped open with a chair and Pauline was able to slip easily inside. Keeping her head down, she moved swiftly along the wall, avoiding the dancing teenagers until she found Richard perched by the wall, a plastic cup of Coke in his hand. The second he saw her his face dropped and his eyes widened. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Simon attacked me. He knows about the bound coven. He’s coming for them.”

“Oh my god.”

“We need to do whatever it takes—we can’t let him hurt them.”

Richard abandoned his drink onto the nearest table and started for an internal door. “Go back outside,” he said. “Watch the exits. He won’t come through the front.”

“What if he’s already inside? He was fast, Richard, and furious.”

Richard gripped her elbow. “Then we’d better be faster.”

✨

Charlie was fast, he always had been, but he couldn’t catch his breath. 

He ducked between two vending machines and wriggled himself right up to the wall. Between his ragged breaths, he listened hard as Simon’s squeaky footsteps came closer. He leaned forward just a little and saw the small stretch of corridor before it turned into a crossroads. Simon stepped into his eyeline, looking left and right, and Charlie clamped a hand over his mouth. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the man could hear his heart, it was beating so loudly. 

Simon turned and strode off towards the right, in the opposite direction to where Charlie was hiding. And Charlie breathed a little in relief. He removed his hand. He swallowed. He closed his eyes and took another breath, just for luck. He was too exposed out here. Surely even just being back at the hall where all the non-witches were was better than being out there alone and vulnerable without magic. Would Simon really murder him in a room full of people? Charlie didn’t think so somehow. Not without some serious forward planning.

He chanced a step forward and peered out from between the vending machines. He looked left and right and saw nobody. Heard nothing. Could he even remember how to get back to the hall from here? He’d been at the school three weeks and he’d thought he had a pretty good idea of the place, but right now, in the dark, with his head spinning, he couldn’t be certain.

Nick, he thought. And the thought came so simply and clearly, there was nothing else for it. He let his eyes fall closed and breathed. Unbidden, Nick’s gorgeous face came to him, his hair and his eyes, his smile and his kiss. Close. He felt close.

Charlie opened his eyes and started back the way he’d come. That feeling of closeness only grew and he sped up into a run. Around a corner, he sprinted along the next corridor. He recognised the empty classroom they’d stopped in before and was barrelling past it when he ran straight into someone coming the other way.

“NO!” Charlie stumbled backwards. Simon’s pale face was like a mini moon in the darkness. The man swiped out with both hands, but Charlie ducked aside, dodged nimbly and slipped past him.

✨

The seven witches strode through the school, peering through every window, into every classroom, around every corner. Nick wished they could split up, to cover more ground, but he knew that would be stupid. The more of them there were, the better chance they had—but right now, Charlie had nobody.

They were halfway down the maths corridor when Nick felt it. A tug in his chest. His breath caught and he latched onto that tugging feeling. He turned around and began to jog back the way they’d just come.

“Wait, Nick,” Tao hissed. “Where are you—?”

“NO!”

Charlie’s distant cry ripped through Nick like ice. He was close, so close, but the terror in his voice… Nick sprinted for the end of the corridor.

“Nick, wait!” Elle cried.

“He’s going to kill him!”

Six pairs of feet clattered after him as he hurtled around the corner, making him feel stronger, more powerful. But there was only one thought in Nick’s mind. Get to Charlie. He couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not now they had just found each other.

“What are we gonna do?” James gasped.

“We’re all here!” Darcy cried. “We’re at full power almost, so—!”

Another desperate cry tore through the halls. “HELP!” 

“Charlie!”

None of them stopped running. Nick would not stop. Heart pounding loud in his ears, he rounded the next corner, into the lockers corridor. But then it stopped. There he was. Charlie was running towards him from the other end—Simon right on his heels.

Their eyes met. “Charlie, look out!” 

But it was too late. Simon threw out both arms and shoved Charlie from behind. Charlie went sprawling forwards. Simon leapt onto Charlie’s back and pinned him to the floor with his knees. He fisted a hand into Charlie’s hair and yanked his head up, giving him no choice but to look into the faces of his fellow coven members.

Nick threw his arms out to block the others from moving any closer. A distant crash of thunder made every single one of them, including Simon glance around as lightning flickered through the darkened hall. A glimmer of movement caught Nick’s eye and his heart plummeted further—in Simon’s free hand was a knife.

A prickle of something sharp and electric ran up Nick’s back. “Let him go!”

The lockers on either side of them burst open. Their contents flew around them like a tornado of paper.

“We’re sorry Hazel died!” Darcy cried. “But we didn’t kill her!”

Simon tightened his grip on Charlie’s hair. “Hazel didn’t die. What Julio did to her was far worse.” The knife flashed in his hand as he brought it around and pressed it to Charlie’s exposed throat. 

Nick met Charlie’s gaze, terror flooding him. He gave a sharp flick of his head and Simon was thrown upwards into the ceiling where he stayed, suspended, as if the ceiling had suddenly become magnetised.

Charlie scrambled to his feet and Nick darted forward. They fell into each other and Nick buried his face in Charlie’s shoulder. He was cool to the touch and trembling, as Nick was, but he was alive and breathing and clinging to him right back.

There was a grunt, and then a sickening crunch as Simon landed in an unconscious heap. The coven stood there in stunned silence, staring at the man sprawled across the floor, scattered papers and books all around him.

“Oh my god,” James breathed. “Is he dead?”

The others gasped and Nick and Charlie exchanged wide-eyed looks. Nick looked back down at Simon and knew what needed to be done. He squeezed Charlie’s hand, tried to move closer to Simon, but as he did so, Charlie wouldn’t let go. Instead, the two of them crept forward together and peered down at their attacker’s chest.

“No,” said Charlie. “He’s breathing.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Tao. “But let’s come away from there now.” 

He ushered Nick and Charlie back into the huddle. Elle pulled Tao back to her side, but he kept himself close to Charlie, and in turn, Charlie kept himself close to Nick, for which Nick was grateful.

“Charlie, oh my god,” said Tara. “Are you…?”

It was clear he wasn’t okay, but he clung to Nick and Tao and grimaced bravely. “What are we gonna do?” 

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” said Tao.

“But we can’t leave him there,” said Tara. “The school is full of people.”

Elle reached out to take her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “It doesn’t matter. “We’re the only ones he cared about hurting.”

“I think we should call the police,” said James.

Planted firmly at Tara’s side, Darcy looked between each of them. “And tell them what?”

Before any of them could reply, footsteps echoed down the hall behind them. They all turned to see Mr Argent striding towards them. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“Dad, I can explain…”

It suddenly occurred to Nick how suspicious they looked, standing over the prone body of a stranger.

“He was chasing after us,” said Isaac quickly. “Because we saw him breaking open all the lockers. He slipped on the papers and hit his head pretty hard.”

“He did all this by himself?” said Mr Argent, indicating the mess across the floor.

Isaac shrugged. “We don’t know,” he said. “It was like this when we came in here.”

Mr Argent picked his way to Simon and crouched over him to peer at his unconscious face. “I know this man,” he said. “He’s very troubled. He’s been breaking in and vandalising the school for years. Now, I don’t want you lot to get any more involved in this than you already have. Just go back to the dance, okay? I’ll take care of this from here.”

Together, they made it back to the corridor outside the hall where the rest of their classmates were still dancing the night away in blissful ignorance. None of them stopped to consider rejoining them. They felt so far removed now, from everything, but not from each other.

Past the hall, the eight of them stepped out of the front doors and into the chilly night air. As they made their way down the path to the gates, none of them spoke, all of them wrapped up in their own whirling thoughts. On the pavement, Nick knew what had to happen next. They each had to go home. They each had to sleep. They each had to carry on and pretend like nothing had happened. When it felt like everything had.

None of the others moved either. They merely stood there, holding onto each other and dreading their parting.

Finally, Charlie gave Nick’s hand a squeeze and spoke to the group as a whole. “Thank you,” he said, his voice no more than a thin whisper. “All of you, thank you. For saving my life. I don’t know what—what would have happened if you hadn’t…”

Nick wrapped himself tighter around his side and buried his face in his shoulder. Charlie’s hand came up and landed in his hair, stroking it tenderly. Charlie was surprised to see Tao wipe away tears. His own bottom lip trembled. “Don’t get all weepy about it.”

And then Nick wasn’t the only one clinging to him because Tao enveloped him into a hug. Surprised, Charlie extracted an arm and held Tao back. And then Isaac and Tara and Darcy and Elle and James all moved forward to form a tight huddle of comfort and tears. Nick and Charlie remained in the middle, still hanging onto each other. And despite everything, Charlie’s heart soared. It wasn’t just Nick. In that moment he felt safe, sevenfold. Safe and loved and warm.

“You finally did it, then?” asked Tao when their hug finally broke. 

The others moved away leaving only Nick and Charlie. Tao was still wiping away tears but he’d managed a teasing smile. Nick and Charlie exchanged baffled looks, then glanced down at their linked hands.

“Yes!” Isaac exclaimed. “They kissed in the middle of the dance floor and it was so romantic! I’m so sorry I had to spoil the moment.”

A burst of laughter escaped Nick. Oh yeah, he thought. They had been having a really excellent evening before, well, everything.

“At least something good came out of today,” said Elle. “I’m really happy for you both.”

“Me too,” said James. “Some queer joy to help the attempted murder go down.”

“I expect you both need to talk,” said Tara. “And I don’t know about you lot but I really want my bed.”

There was a murmur of ascent and the coven set off in ones and twos, into cars and away from the school. A wash of relief flooded Nick when, without discussion, Charlie walked with him to his car and climbed into the passenger seat. The moment of disconnect felt wrong, but the moment their seatbelts were on, Charlie’s hand was in his again and he felt like he could breathe.

Charlie sighed. “I’ve got to find out what Simon meant. What my dad did to Hazel…”

“We will,” said Nick. “Just not tonight. Please?”

Charlie gave him an exhausted smile and nodded. “Take me home?”

The drive was not long and their quiet comfort in each other remained, but Charlie found himself willing them to get home faster. The rush of life outside the car made him feel small and weak and so… othered.

The house was dark and still when they arrived. Nick parked on the curb and, noticing the lack of a car in the driveway, Charlie whispered, “My gran is still at work.”

Out of the car, up the path, through the front door, into the quiet hallway, they kicked their shoes in the general direction of the shoe wrack and Charlie led the way into the kitchen. With two steaming mugs of tea, they sank onto the living room sofa and breathed.

The liquid was too hot, but Charlie swallowed it down, relishing the burn against his tongue.

They sat like that for a long while, leaning against each other, sipping their tea, listening to the gentle tick of the clock on the mantel, of the distant cars passing on the road outside. It was nearly midnight before either of them spoke at all. Their mugs had been drained and set aside, their hands had long been entwined and Nick had been drifting off with his head on Charlie’s shoulder.

“Ben kissed me.”

Nick lifted his head. “What?”

Charlie’s free hand clenched into a fist and his shoulders tensed. “He…” He swallowed, then whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Did—did you want him to kiss you?” Nick sounded so quiet, so uncertain.

Charlie’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “No. No, Nick, I need you to understand, I—I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to.”

“He forced you?”

Charlie bit his lip, ashamed, and nodded.

A lump formed in Nick’s throat. “C-can I hug you?”

Charlie nodded. He reached for Nick and Nick reached for him. They pulled each other as close as possible, until they were horizontal on the sofa, Charlie’s head on Nick’s chest. Charlie screwed his eyes shut tight and murmured, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hey, no,” said Nick, tightening his arms around him. “No s-words. Not about this. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about, do you hear me?”

“Sorry,” Charlie whispered, but he lifted his head to reveal a tiny smirk on his lips.

Nick huffed a shaky laugh and their eyes locked. I almost lost you tonight, Nick thought. He reached out to touch the curl in the middle of Charlie’s forehead and marvelled at the very essence of him. “I really like you.”

“You like me?”

“Wasn’t that obvious?”

Charlie giggled softly and shook his head. “Not to me.”

“Do you like me?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

“Why are we like this?”

Laughing, Nick rolled them both over so they came to land side by side on the narrow sofa, noses almost touching. “Charlie… tonight, I… I thought…”

“Shhh…” Charlie let his forehead lean to rest against Nick’s. “We don’t have to think about that, not tonight. Not right now when I’m so… I’m so happy .”

“I’m so happy, too.” His eyes were so full of awe, his touch so full of warmth. “And I would really like to kiss you again, if that’s okay?”

“Yes,” said Charlie. “That’s very okay.”

And so he kissed him.

✨

A car drove through the dark streets of Truham, towards the woods where, between the trees lay a deserted dirt road. Once they were satisfied they were far enough in to not be seen, Pauline Jones and Richard Argent climbed out of the car, into the cold night air.

Around the vehicle, they popped open the boot to find their third passenger had woken up. It didn’t matter that he had though, because Simon Bennett’s ankles and wrists were bound with rope and his panicked breaths were muffled by a substantial layer of gaffa tape.

Richard reached into his pocket, palmed aside the crystal and instead took out a knife. He flicked the blade open. Simon’s eyes flew wide and he began to struggle against his binds. Pauline leapt forwards and gripped his shoulders to hold him still.

With a steady hand, Richard pressed the blade to his own palm. Then, he reached forwards and pressed his bloody hand to Simon’s forehead. Closing his eyes, Richard murmured an incantation, the mere action sending long forgotten thrills of power through his body. When he removed his hand, a red spot remained on the man’s forehead.

“You have been marked,” Richard told him. “No matter where you go, where you hide, we will find you. If you ever so much as look at one of our children again, I will turn your life into a living hell much worse than Hazel ever knew.”

Chapter Text

chapter seven: call this surviving

He came back to the world slowly, gradually. He was so warm and comfy, cosy in his very soul. There was a weight against his shoulder, solid and breathing. Something soft tickled his cheek. Charlie peeled his eyes open to find it was a mess of floppy, strawberry blond hair, haloed in sunlight. He buried his face into the soft strands and inhaled.

They had fallen asleep on the sofa last night. Charlie had a vague memory of them waking up at some point, of climbing the stairs and falling into bed together. He was glad he’d had the foresight to shed his jeans, but at the same time, he was also reasonably naked in bed with Nick—whom he adored but had really only kissed for the first time yesterday.

“Morning.” Nick stirred, stretched and in doing so, tightened his arms around Charlie’s middle. He peered up at him sleepily.

“Morning,” Charlie murmured. “Did you have a good sleep?”

“Hmm…” Nick squinted around at the room. “I didn’t mean to sleep over.”

“We were tired. And I’m glad you did. I haven’t slept that well in ages.”

“Well, that’s good.” Nick smiled. “Me too. And it’s Saturday, which means we can spend all day in bed if we want to.”

“I think we might’ve already made a good go of it.” Charlie rolled over to check the bedside clock. “Oh, yep. It’s one in the afternoon.”

“No wonder my stomach is rumbling. We should probably eat something.”

“But I don’t wanna get up!” Charlie whined, burrowing back under the covers. “I’m too cosy.”

“I could make you un-cosy…” said Nick, climbing out of bed. “If that would help…” He reached for the duvet, grasped the edge and made to yank it away.

“No!” Charlie sat up and twisted to throw himself around Nick’s middle, toppling him sideways onto the covers. They both collapsed, giggling, into a tangle of limbs.

“You didn’t think I was actually going to do it, did you?” Nick scoffed. “As if I’d do such a thing.”

“Oh, I dunno, you’re a menace when you want to be.”

“And you love it.”

“I do.”

Charlie’s heart flipped over. A blush had risen in Nick’s cheeks and Charlie longed to kiss them. Instead, he reached out and cupped his face between his hands. Nick brought them the rest of the way into a kiss. Their kiss on the dance floor yesterday had been intense, their kisses last night on the sofa hot and desperate. These kisses, in the light of day, in the quiet stillness of Charlie’s bedroom were soft and slow and spine-tinglingly sweet.

It took a long while for them to remember the rest of the world. To remember they were hungry and needed things other than each other to live. They extracted themselves from the bed and dressed in fits and starts, pausing to gather the other up in their arms, against walls, door frames and bannisters. In the downstairs hall, Nick suddenly stopped kissing Charlie like it was their last day on earth to throw him over his shoulder.

“Nick!” Charlie squealed as Nick hauled him into the kitchen.  “Oh my god!” He plopped him down onto the counter and grinned up at him, breathless. “We’re never gonna get anything done like this, are we?”

“Nope.”

Eventually, they managed to make some brunch and sat together in the same armchair in the living room to eat. It was only in moments of quiet when Charlie remembered any of the other things that had happened yesterday. Giddy excitement and sheer terror chased themselves around his head and it was a fight to keep the good on top. And he knew, in those small moments, Nick felt the same. 

He reached to take his hand and brought it to his lips. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered. “We survived. We got through it. Simon can’t hurt us anymore.”

“And Ben?”

“He’s nothing. Ancient history.”

“Charlie… What he did was not nothing. If… if you wanted us to slow down or even take a break, I’d understand, I—”

“What? I don’t want—Nick, no. I-I’m fine. I can’t pretend what happened didn’t shake me, because it did. It… it makes me sick to my stomach, actually.” He shook his head. “But I will not let that dickhead affect what we have. Not for a second. I want to be with you. Nothing makes me feel safer or more reassured than being with you. Even if you decided you didn’t want me anymore, I’d still feel the same.”

“That’s never going to happen,” said Nick. “Being with you… it just feels right. Like we were always going to happen. I knew it from the moment I saw you.”

“Me too, Nick, me too.”

For the rest of the day, neither of them spoke any more of what had happened. Ben didn’t matter. Simon didn’t matter. Today, there was Nick and there was Charlie. No one else.

Except perhaps Nellie, whom upon their arrival at Nick’s house, demanded a walk. Across town and into the woods, they explored past where the cottage lay, enjoying the crisp autumn leaves crunching underfoot and the excuse to huddle close due to the chilly weather.

They made sure to keep up with the coven group chat, checking their phones every so often, but everyone had been exhausted, too. Many of them didn’t emerge in the chat until mid afternoon.

That evening, after Charlie fell asleep in front of the telly at Nick’s, he ended up staying the night.

Nick woke on Sunday morning to find the bed beside him warm, but empty. He stretched out, seeking that missing closeness that had quickly become his favourite thing. He peered around in the semi-darkness of the room. The sun hadn’t yet completely risen. Charlie was sitting in the beanbag chair, curled around his phone, the light illuminating his furrowed eyebrows as he read and scrolled, his cheek a little smushed against the chair.

“Morning,” Nick whispered. “You okay?” 

Charlie slowly looked away from the screen, blinking out of his thoughts. He caught sight of Nick watching him from the bed and smiled.“What are you reading so intently?”

Charlie got up and Nick folded him back into bed. They snuggled down, leaning against the headboard and each other as Charlie shared the article he had up on his phone. Nick recognised it at once. “That’s what Tara found when we were in Mr Argent’s office. She Googled Hazel Foster and that was the first result.”

“That’s how I found it, too,” said Charlie. “I keep thinking about that photo in the yearbook, of them on the field with my dad. They looked so happy, like a little trio of friends. But Simon said my dad did something beyond terrible to Hazel. Worse than death. So… I’ve been thinking… maybe she didn’t die in that fire after all.”

“You think she could still be alive?”

“I’ve done some digging. Hazel has a brother. I couldn’t find any contact details except for his home address. He lives in Herne Bay and I was thinking…”

“You want to go and talk to him?”

Charlie nodded. “I know it might give us nothing, but I… I really need to know. My dad was one of the kindest, most caring and lovely people ever. I can’t believe he would ever willingly hurt anyone, much less a friend.”

Nick pressed a kiss to Charlie’s hair. “Alright. I want to know, too, for you and for my dad. Any information about the barn fire we can learn, I want to know. Do you have any lessons tomorrow afternoon?”

“No, only free periods after lunch.”

“Then it’s settled. We can go then.”

“Yeah, okay.”

The rest of Sunday was spent lazing around in bed, switching between snoozing, kissing and watching films. Charlie didn’t want to think about what he would do if it turned out his dad really had done something terrible. He knew he should probably prepare himself for the worst, but at the same time, he just couldn’t fathom the possibility that his dad could be anything other than what he had always been.

Meanwhile, Charlie felt each moment when Nick remembered Friday night all over again. Even if they didn’t speak about it, they could kiss and cuddle about it. Charlie couldn’t imagine—he didn’t want to imagine—how he would have been if their roles had been reversed. If Nick had been isolated away from the coven with a would-be murderer on the loose, Charlie might have done a lot more damage than throw said murderer into the ceiling. 

He couldn’t pretend it didn’t feel nice to know what Nick would do for him. Never had Charlie ever known he could trust anyone with his life before. Not just Nick, but the whole coven. He would fight for them, because he knew they would fight for him. His dad was gone, his grandmother was hardly around—the coven were his family now.

That evening, Charlie kissed Nick goodbye, finally broke their resulting embrace, then headed home alone. He hadn’t been alone all weekend, not really. The cold evening air was soothing and the quiet was welcome, but now he realised, without Nick beside him, he did feel a little unmoored, more so than before. 

Tomorrow, he reminded himself. Tomorrow he would see Nick at school, just like he always did. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had. Nick was his… boyfriend? Shit . How had he neglected to confirm that detail? Boyfriend didn’t exactly feel like it covered everything they were to each other, but it was a label, a start, a promise.

In form the next morning, no such promise came. Charlie almost asked the questions several times but twice he chickened out—what if Nick didn’t want to be boyfriends? What if it freaked him out and he bolted? Deep down, Charlie knew this wouldn’t happen, but on the third attempt, Mr Farouk snapped at them to be “Quiet!” and they had to obey while he took the register.

By lunch time, however, the whole boyfriend question had left Charlie’s brain entirely in exchange for plans of their imminent mission. The bell rang and Charlie headed straight for the Sixth Form common room where he and Nick had planned to meet, eat together, then head out. He entered to find Nick hadn’t arrived yet, but Tao and Isaac seated on their usual sofa.

Tao was gesticulating as he complained to Isaac in a semi-hushed tone. “I just still hate this binding thing. What’s the point of being a witch if we can’t do magic by ourselves? Why can’t it be fun? Like that film The Craft —I mean, not the stuff in the first half with the snakes—the part where we put spells on people, change our hair colour and levitate.”

“Like Sabrina the Teenage Witch,” said Charlie.

Tao and Isaac looked up and grinned. “Hey,” said Isaac. “How are you feeling?”

Charlie sank onto the sofa opposite and took out his lunch. “Just trying to focus on the positives at the moment.”

“Well, that can’t be difficult,” said Tao. “Did you and Nick spend the whole weekend together?”

Charlie looked from Tao’s raised eyebrows to Isaac’s eager smile. “Yeah. Yeah, we did. And it was so good!” He flopped back against the sofa cushions, a giddy smile on his face.

“Aw,” said Isaac. “I’m really so happy for you.”

“Thanks. God, I’m so happy for me, too. I’ve never… this has never happened to me and Nick is just so—”

“I’m so what?”

Charlie turned to find Nick standing behind the sofa. He grinned and moved around to sit beside him. Ignoring Tao’s dramatic disgust, Charlie slid closer and kissed Nick back, lingering perhaps a little too long for midday in the common room. “So amazing.”

“You’re so amazing,” Nick murmured.

Even Isaac cringed as Tao pretended to vomit. 

“This is going to happen all the time now, isn’t it?” Tao whined.

“Yep,” said Nick. “Sorry not sorry.”

“You and Elle are just as bad,” said Charlie.

“It’s just the honeymoon phase,” said Isaac. “It’ll pass.”

Nick and Charlie exchanged knowing looks. Charlie really, really didn’t want that to happen.

As they ate their lunch, the conversation fizzled, then turned to finding Hazel’s brother’s address and Nick and Charlie’s plans to go and speak to him that afternoon.

“But we both have lessons all day,” said Tao. “Can’t we wait until after school? That way we can go with you.”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to take too many people,” said Charlie. “We don’t want to ambush the poor man.”

Nick nodded. “We were sort of thinking we’d go just us two and keep you updated on the group chat.”

“And,” said Isaac. “We wouldn’t want to gatecrash your first date.”

Charlie laughed. “It’s not a date.” He caught Nick’s raised eyebrow. “Okay, maybe it is?”

“It can be,” said Nick. “Not very romantic, but…”

Charlie nudged his shoulder and grinned. “Doesn’t matter what we’re doing, any time we’re together is a date in my books.”

They suspected their friends were pretty glad to be rid of them when they finally finished their lunches and headed out to Nick’s car.

“We are such saps,” said Nick, laughing. “Who knew?”

“Oh, we’ve both always been sappy,” said Charlie. “Mine has just been buried until now, waiting for you.”

After only a brief make-out interlude, they pried themselves away from each other and away from the side of the car, climbed in and set off for Herne Bay. Charlie had never been, though Nick had many times. They passed the hour’s drive with silly conversations and stories of summers past. It was nice. Relaxed, even. And the little seaside town was nice, too, if a little bleak in October.

With the help of Google Maps, they found 51 Oakdale Road easily enough. Nick parked down the road, and, hand in hand, they cautiously approached the very ordinary looking bungalow. The front garden was a little overgrown, weeds all over the place, the facade of the house grimy.

“This is it?”

Charlie nodded. “I think so.”

They made their way up the front path to the door, where Charlie let go of Nick’s hand. Nick frowned in disappointment before realising the reality of their situation. “Oh, right,” he said. “Yeah, that’s probably smart.”

Charlie grimaced, regretting the necessary precaution. He took a breath and knocked on the door.

Nothing.

They peered at the windows. There was no light or sound or movement.

Please be home, Charlie thought.

Nick knocked again.

Immediately, the door opened and they both jumped.

The man was tall, very tall… taller than Nick. Broader, too, with a mane of scraggly light brown hair. Nick and Charlie exchanged panicked looks.

“Hi,” said Charlie. “Sorry to bother you, but we’re looking for Warren Foster.”

Charlie was glad he’d let go of Nick’s hand. He didn’t like to judge people upon first impressions, but if anyone was going to be a raging homophobe, then it was this guy. The man looked them up and down, sizing them up—and probably thinking he could definitely take them both. 

Charlie ploughed on. “Well, we were really looking for Hazel Foster, but we know Warren lives here.”

“I’m Warren,” said the man. “What do you want with my sister?”

“My dad, Julio Spring, he was friends with Hazel when they were younger.”

At the sound of Julio’s name, Warren let out a sigh, grimacing.

“You knew Julio, too?” asked Nick.

The hard lines of Warren’s features quivered, and he took a breath. “I knew him.”

“My dad died a few months ago.” Charlie forced himself to weather the grizzly stare Warren fixed him with. He wished he could take Nick’s hand again. “I was hoping to ask yourself or—or Hazel a few questions. Do you know where she might be?” If Hazel really was deceased, then he wanted confirmation as soon as possible.

“She’s right here,” said Warren.

And despite the possibility of this fact, Nick and Charlie stared in shock.

“Oh,” said Charlie. “Would it be alright if we talked to her?”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

“Couldn’t we ask her?” asked Nick. “Shouldn’t that be something she decides for herself, whether to talk to us or not?”

Warren turned his grizzly stare upon Nick then, and Nick shrunk a little closer to Charlie. His hand closed around the fabric of Charlie’s coat sleeve and he clung on.

After a long moment, Warren sighed. “Well, come on in, then.”

He stepped aside.

Nick and Charlie glanced at each other, wondering if this was a huge mistake.

But Hazel was alive. And if they had the chance to talk to her, they had to take it.

Charlie gave a tiny nod, then stepped over the threshold.

The hallway beyond was narrow and dimly lit. A washing machine whirred from somewhere and the chatter of a television came from the living room as they passed. It seemed Warren took better care of the inside of the house than the outside.

Nick took Charlie’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Warren led them to a door at the very end of the hall, where they hesitated in the doorway. Beyond, a small room, much nicer than the rest of the house. A bed, a wardrobe, a desk, a sideboard and, facing the window, a large, comfortable looking armchair. Someone was sitting in it, their head just visible over the back.

Charlie squeezed Nick’s hand back, shot him what he hoped was a reassuring look, then dropped his hand again. Together, they stepped inside after Warren and moved around to face the person in the chair. 

It was a woman. Hazel. Sixteen years older than she had been when that photo in the yearbook had been taken. She was thin and pale, but her blonde hair was glossy and tidy, like it had been recently combed. She wore a simple, floral dress and a lilac cardigan. She appeared to be fast asleep.

“Ask her anything you like,” said Warren, arms folded across his broad chest.

Charlie inched closer to Hazel and peered into her sleeping face. “Hazel?”

A chill went down his spine. Except for the very slight rise and fall of her chest, Hazel was entirely motionless, without so much as a twitch from behind her closed eyelids.

“She hasn’t moved in sixteen years.”

Nick and Charlie stared at the woman in shock and dawning sadness. “What happened to her?” asked Charlie, feeling a bit sick.

“There was a fire in a barn, years ago,” said Warren.

“Yeah,” Nick breathed. “We know about that.”

Warren glared at him. “Some died, some survived… if you can call this surviving.”

“Do you know what caused it?” asked Charlie.

“No one does. She went to that barn with your father and…”

“What happened?”

Up until that point, Warren had stayed very stoic and controlled, but something flickered beneath his tough exterior—like he was seconds away from yelling or crying or both. “I don’t know,” he said. “Kids used to go to that barn to party all the time. Hazel was different back then—lively and fun, drove our parents mad.”

And how could the woman before them now be the same girl Warren was remembering? Charlie sank to his knees in front of her. He wanted to take her hand, but it felt disrespectful to touch her when she likely had no idea they were there. Nick crouched, too, and placed a hand instead on Charlie’s back, steadying him, a deep sadness in his kind brown eyes.

Charlie looked into Hazel’s face and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

With lightning speed, Hazel’s hand moved, grabbed at Charlie’s wrist. He cried out, tried to pull away, but her grip was vice-like. Her eyes flew open, blown wide and staring—right at him. Her mouth fell open as she groaned, deep and guttural.

At the same time, Warren reached for Hazel and Nick reached for Charlie. “Let him go!” Nick cried. “Let him go!”

With one massive tug from Warren, Hazel’s grip loosened and Charlie stumbled backwards into Nick. The momentum sent them both staggering into the sideboard. Hazel fell back in her chair, eyes closed, utterly still once again.

Nick and Charlie hung onto each other, breathing hard as they stared from Hazel to Warren.

“What the fuck was that?” Nick gasped.

“You said she hadn’t moved in sixteen years,” said Charlie.

“Not at all,” said Warren. “Not a muscle.” He was still crouched beside his sister. “And then you come.” He stood, his entire, massive attention fixed upon Charlie. “What did you do?”

“Nothing… I—I didn’t do anything.”

“She grabbed your arm!” Spittle flew from Warren’s mouth. “Not mine and not his!”

Nick stared daggers at the man, ready to shout right back at him—but then Warren whirled back around to kneel at his sister’s side again. “Hazel?” He rubbed a gentle hand over her shoulder. “Are you there? Hey, Hazel, it’s me. Can you hear me?”

Charlie nudged Nick’s arm, but Nick didn’t need the assurance to back down. There was no way they could blame this huge but sad man for shouting at two random school boys meddling in his sorry circumstances.

And that’s when Charlie noticed Hazel’s arm. It had fallen limply over the armrest, her cardigan sleeve raised, revealing her narrow forearm—and the strange black mark there. Two straight lines intersecting one curved line. 

He glanced at Nick. He had seen it, too. “We should go,” he murmured.

Charlie followed Nick swiftly to the door. “I’m so sorry, Mr Foster.”

But the man was entirely focused on his sister. Nick took Charlie’s hand and Charlie let him lead the way back down the narrow hallway, through the front door and out of the house. Minds reeling, they strode back to the car. Nick shut his door and let out a breath.

“What a massive, scary, heartbroken man.”

“That mark on her arm,” said Charlie. “It’s witchcraft, isn’t it?”

Nick nodded. “It looked like a rune. I’ve seen things like that in Tara’s grimoire. It must be what’s keeping her like that. God, Simon wasn’t exaggerating, I think that is actually worse than death.”

Charlie sighed and let his head fall onto Nick’s shoulder. “I know.”

Nick wrapped his arms around him the best he could over the gearstick. “And why did she have to grab at you like that?” 

“Because she knew I was related to Julio? Somehow…”

“But it doesn’t make sense. If Hazel and Julio were friends—who would do that to a friend?”

Charlie winced and chewed at his lip.

“Oh, no,” said Nick quickly. “I didn’t mean—we still don’t know that your dad really did this.”

“No,” said Charlie. He lifted his head. “I do know.”

Nick blinked. “Wait, what? How?”

“I-I’ve seen that rune before.”

“Okay… Where?”

“In… in my family’s grimoire.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I haven’t told anyone.”

But Nick grasped Charlie’s shoulders and grinned. “You found your grimoire? That’s amazing! Where was it?”

Charlie laughed. “It was actually kind of cool. I was just lying in bed, trying to get to sleep on, like, my second day here, and I heard this click. And then I realised one of the tiles on the fireplace had just popped open. The book was in there, in a secret compartment.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, kind of cool, but also kind of spooky. But that room did used to be my dad’s so it makes sense.”

“And you saw that rune in your grimoire?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay, then.” Nick pulled on his seatbelt and turned to the wheel. “Let’s get you back home so you can check it.”

His enthusiasm was infectious and Charlie found himself feeling lighter then he ever would have expected after the afternoon they’d just had. Maybe he really could weather anything with Nick by his side. He clicked his own seatbelt into place, and as Nick pulled away from the house, Charlie couldn’t keep his eyes off him.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Just… thank you.”

On the journey home, their heads were too full to speak much, but the quiet was not awkward, and by the time they arrived back in Truham, Charlie was ready and determined to find the truth. 

He led Nick up to his bedroom at a jog, then shut the door behind them. He went straight to the fireplace and, aware of Nick watching excitedly, removed the square tile from the mantelpiece, revealing the compartment behind.

“Voilà,” said Charlie sarcastically. He took out the grimoire.

“Oh my god,” said Nick, sitting beside him on the bed. “You don’t understand how incredible this is. We’ve been waiting ages to find another grimoire. I was beginning to think it’d never happen.” 

Charlie flipped through the pages, leaning in so Nick could see, too.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me looking?”

“Of course I don’t.” He realised Nick was just being his usual over-courteous self and smiled. “You’ve been doing this longer than I have. I don’t know what most of this stuff even means.”

Nick leaned in and joined the search for the rune as Charlie continued through the pages.

“Everything we know about who we are, we got from Tara’s grimoire,” said Nick. “But that’s specific to her family. These spells—this book is completely different. We could learn so much from this.”

“Here.” Charlie finally found the page he’d been looking for and pointed to the rune with two lines crossing a curved line. “It is the same, I knew it.”

They both peered down at the incantation scribbled beside it.

“That’s my dad’s handwriting,” said Charlie. “And you don’t recognise it from Tara’s book?”

“No, not at all. We’ve gone over that book loads of times, and I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Then my dad has to have been the one to put it on Hazel.”

Nick sighed. “It does seem that way. But why though?”

“I don’t know.” Charlie took a deep breath. “He would never hurt anyone. Not the dad I knew.”

“I’m so sorry.” Nick wrapped an arm around him and kissed the side of his head.

“Does it say how to undo the spell?” asked Charlie. “Maybe if we can undo it then she can tell us what happened.”

“Um…” Nick frowned down at the page. “Here, I think. It’s a poultice—and we have most of these ingredients at the cottage.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but…” He chewed at his lip. “We’ve never tried anything like this before. We don’t know what could happen if we do it wrong—we could even make things worse.”

“I’m not sure you can get much worse than Hazel’s situation. We have to try, Nick. If there’s a chance we can make her better, then we have to.”

They decided to walk across town to the woods. The afternoon had turned crisp, golden leaves scattered everywhere. Bundled in their coats, it was nice to walk hand in hand through town, cosy and unashamed and, most thrillingly, a couple. Charlie had never been a part of one of those before. Often, seeing happy couples in the street would annoy him, but now he had someone to walk through life with, too. Things seemed just a little bit easier to deal with now he was half of a pair.

They soon left the normality of the town centre in favour of the woods, which would lead them to the cottage. Nick led the way inside, across the main room, through a door to the right Charlie had yet to see beyond. Once upon a time, it looked as if it had been a kitchen, but now leafy green vines criss-crossed from each shelf and counter top, plants growing in abundance.

“Whoa,” said Charlie. “It smells so nice in here. All woody and earthy.”

“I’m glad you like it. I sort of got into herbology since I found out I was a witch, so…”

Charlie brushed his fingertips over a broad green leaf and watched it spring up and down. “This is all your work?” 

“Yeah,” said Nick, bashful. “Mostly.”

Charlie smiled. “I like the idea of you in here, tending to the plants so delicately.”

“You do?”

“I really do. It suits you.”

The kitchen-greenhouse was not a large room, and most of it was taken up by plants so there was no choice other than to stand close together. 

“Honestly, it’s been one of the few bits of magic I can really wrap my head around,” said Nick. “Other than you and me, I suppose.”

Charlie lifted up onto his toes to meet Nick’s kiss. Deep and slow, their arms encircled each other, their sighs collecting into a mutual gasp. A gentle rustle swept around the room, and when they finally drew apart and opened their eyes, the leaves of each plant had risen, as if waving at them from their pots. The boys chuckled softly. It was like they suddenly had an audience for their kiss. Of plants.

“I think they like you,” said Nick. “They’ve never done that when it’s been just me in here.”

“Well, I like them.” Charlie turned to their leafy friends and gave a little bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’m sorry if me and your plant-dad turn your home into a new make-out spot. We’ll try not to knock any of you over or float you into space.”

The plants rustled their leaves in response, then fell still.

Nick and Charlie stared in awe. Then broke into giggles once again.

“Right,” said Nick. “Don’t we have a list of ingredients to find?”

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie laughed. “Mysterious rune. Hazel in a creepy magic coma. Possible villainous behaviour from my dead dad… I forgot.”

Nick scooped him up and set him down onto the bare stretch of counter. “Hey!” Charlie cried.

“What?” Nick grinned. “You sit there and look cute while you read from your grimoire and I’ll gather everything?”

“Okay, just make sure you look cute while you gather, too. I can’t be doing all the heavy lifting in the cute department.”

“Pfft! You’re effortless, darling.”

Charlie just about managed to contain his giddiness as he sat there, kicking his feet and reading the list of plants and herbs aloud. Nick was effortlessly adorable as he collected things from all over the room, and some from the main room, too. He gathered everything onto the counter beside Charlie and combined it in a small, glass vial.

“Right. What’s next?” asked Nick. “Or is that it?”

“Just one more,” said Charlie. He had noticed this ingredient at the very bottom of the list a while ago and had been worrying over what it meant exactly. “Um… it says the caster’s blood . Is that…?”

“Shit.” Nick leaned forward to read the grimoire upside down in Charlie’s lap.

“Does that mean…?”

“The blood of whoever cast the spell you’re trying to break, so… your dad’s.”

“So, mine.”

Nick looked up at him. “You don’t have to do this. Not if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m fine. I’ll do it.” He let out a breath. “For Hazel, right?” And so the worry would go from Nick’s face.

Charlie searched the items scattered across the countertop and grabbed a sharp looking knife probably used for cutting twine. He gripped it as steadily as he could and was about to press it to his palm when—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Nick cried, hands flying out in placation.

“What? What is it?”

“Just… just put the knife down, please. Jesus . We only need a drop.”

“Oh.” Charlie let Nick remove the knife from his grasp. “Alright then.”

Nick shoved the knife onto the very top shelf, out of sight, and found instead a needle. “Here.” He held it out for Charlie to take—but this time, Charlie was the one to shrink back, eyes wide.

“Um, c-can you do it? I kind of hate needles.”

Nick blanched. “And I kind of hate blood, so…”

“It’s just a drop, like you said. I trust you.” He held out his finger, pad up. Nick eyed it cautiously, stepped a little closer. “It’s okay,” said Charlie, sliding off the counter. “Here, take my hand.”

Still looking rather queasy, Nick took Charlie’s hand in his own, palm upwards. He took a deep breath, raised the needle above the pad of his pointer finger and lowered the needle slowly… softly… gently…

“Oh my god! Just give me that.” Charlie grabbed the needle, closed his eyes and stabbed himself in the finger. “Ouch!” He winced, but the pain was brief. He removed the needle and a bubble of blood followed it, before dribbling down his finger. “Quick! Mix it.”

Blinking out of his green-tinged haze, Nick grabbed the vial and pushed it closer. Charlie leaned over it and let his blood drip into it. When nothing more seemed to be coming on its own, Charlie squeezed his finger and several more drops turned into a veritable pour. “Oop, shit. Whoa…” His head spun, the room tipped. He grasped the edge of the counter for dear life.

“Oh, god, come here. Let’s sit you down.” Nick hooked his arms under Charlie’s and lowered him slowly to sit on the floor. Charlie blinked. His back was against the counter and Nick was peering at him through worried eyes. “Put your head between your knees, that’s it, and take some deep breaths, okay? I’m gonna go and grab the first aid kit. God, I should have gotten that before we started this…”

Nick disappeared into the main room while Charlie did as he’d instructed. He leaned forward and concentrated on breathing. Gradually, his head levelled out and, by the time Nick returned, he felt better. “Wow,” he chuckled. “We are such a mess.”

Nick settled on the floor in front of him and managed a laugh, too. Charlie watched as Nick mopped up his wound with an antiseptic wipe, then wrapped a plaster (green with cartoon dogs) around his finger and kissed it better.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Nick got up, then held out a hand to help Charlie. He took it and got steadily to his feet. “You feeling alright?”

“Yeah. I’m okay now. I didn’t realise I was so squeamish about blood. But maybe I did it a little too deep.”

“I’m just impressed I haven’t vomited yet,” said Nick with a low chuckle. “Maybe it’s the fear of vomiting all over you and ruining the charming vibes I’ve presented until now.”

“Oh, you think you’re charming, do you?”

“Don’t you think so?”

“Hmm, you have your moments… Like managing not to puke on me.”

“Is anyone in here?” Nick and Charlie were still wrapped up in each others’ gazes when Darcy appeared in the open kitchen-greenhouse door. “Oh,” they said. “It’s just you two.”

Tara arrived at their shoulder. “Hey.” Her eyes moved from the vial on the counter, to the open first aid kit at their feet. Nick scooped it up and set it aside. “What are you up to? Did you find Hazel’s brother?”

“Not just that,” said Charlie. “We found Hazel.”

“She’s still alive?” Darcy exclaimed.

“Yep,” said Nick. “But… well…”

The two of them gave Tara and Darcy a rundown of what they had found, of Warren and Hazel and their situation.

“We have to help her,” Nick finished. “And this spell, we think it’ll undo whatever spell she’s under.”

“Look,” said Charlie, gesturing to the vial. “We made a poultice.”

But much to his and Nick’s surprise, neither of their friends looked all that thrilled by the prospect. In fact, the more they spoke, the further Tara’s face fell and the more Darcy’s eyebrows knitted.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” asked Darcy.

Tara grimaced. “What if it goes wrong? What if it hurts her even worse?”

“We’ll be careful,” said Nick, looking over the list again. “We’ve got everything we need.”

“But how do you even know what to do?” asked Tara. “My book doesn’t say how to undo any spell like that.”

“But mine does.”

“What?” Tara and Darcy both noticed the book Nick was looking at, still open on the counter. “You found your book?”

Charlie nodded. “My dad was the one to do this to Hazel, and he wrote the spell down in his grimoire, along with the counter-spell.”

“All we have to do is make the poultice,” said Nick. “Which we’ve done. Then we give it to Hazel and perform the incantation.”

“Who knows what she could tell us,” said Charlie. “About our parents and what happened at the barn fire.”

Tara and Darcy exchanged uncomfortable looks. “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” said Tara.

Nick stared. “Why not? We can help her.”

“This spell,” said Tara, lifting the pages of the grimoire suspiciously. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It feels… dangerous.”

“And no offence, Charlie,” said Darcy. “But you haven’t exactly been doing this whole witch thing very long. What makes you think you can do a spell like this?”

Charlie blinked, alarmed.

“Hey,” said Nick. “He’s not doing this alone, okay? And neither of us take this lightly. You didn’t see Hazel, you don’t know what—”

“Look,” said Charlie. “You don’t have to agree with us. We’re not asking you to come along. I’d go on my own if I had to.”

Nick gripped his hand. “You don’t have to.” Charlie smiled gratefully at him, which he returned before turning back to Tara and Darcy. “Don’t you want to find out what happened at the barn fire?”

Tara sighed. “Of course we do, but… I’m sorry. Maybe when we understand more, but right now I just don’t think we know enough to try something like this.”

“Tara… Darcy…”

But the pair were already gone, leaving Nick and Charlie to stare after them in hopeless surprise.

“Don’t worry,” said Nick after several long moments. “We don’t need them.”

“No,” said Charlie. “But it might have been nice to have a little extra power when we take this to Hazel. What if it really is as dangerous as they think? We can do a lot the two of us, but…”

Nick opened his mouth, to provide some more comfort, no doubt, but he was cut off by a loud buzzing sound from his pocket. He took out his phone. “Shit. I’m meant to be at the cafe. Ugh! I completely forgot—mum’s gonna kill me. I never miss shifts.”

“Oh,” said Charlie. “Okay—well, you’d better go, then.” He read the regret in every inch of Nick’s face, and before he could talk himself into any more of a frenzy— “Nick, breathe, it’s okay. I can mix this poultice perfectly well on my own. We can take it to Hazel tomorrow after school and end this once and for all. Okay?”

Nick swallowed, nodded. “Okay.”

Charlie kissed him softly, lingering only a moment before they had to part. Nick kissed him quickly on the forehead, then the nose, then the lips, making Charlie giggle, then set off out of the cottage in a hurry. Charlie watched him go from the kitchen-greenhouse door, smiling wistfully.

With a sigh, he turned to the poultice. It felt weird to be mixing his own blood into the goop, and he couldn’t quite believe it would do anything at all. In the end it turned into a thick, yellow-ish substance which he sealed in its vial and set in his pocket.

He wandered back into the main room and found himself, for the first time, alone in the cottage. He moved slowly around the room, admiring each of the personal touches his coven had made, ones that were not immediately obvious at first glance. 

The remains of one window sill was cluttered with yet more plants. Charlie wondered whether Nick had nurtured these ones, too. Someone had tidied the books which had been scattered across the coffee table. The coffee table itself was in fact an old door resting on some stacked pallets. Behind the sofa, on the wall was a notice board decorated with photographs, printed out memes and hand-scribbled notes. He looked upon his friends smiling faces and felt something warm swell in his chest. He was a part of something now. The swell only grew when he noticed a little sketch attached to a corner signed by Elle, depicting all eight of them, their arms around each other, Charlie included, their names in neat, looping writing under each face.

He looked at the sketched versions of Tara and Darcy. He understood their hesitancy, but at the same time he really just wanted the whole thing to be over and done. He considered finding a bus to Herne Bay and setting off alone tonight. He was used to doing things on his own. But now he didn’t have to.

He had just gotten himself comfy on the sofa with his grimoire open when Tao and Elle entered.

“Hey,” said Tao. “What are you doing in here all alone? Or is your tag-along lurking with his plants?”

“It’s just me. Nick left me for the cafe.”

“No wonder you’re so pouty.”

Tao and Elle swung their school bags from their backs and settled on the sofa opposite.

“I’m not pouty about Nick. I’m pouty because we want to undo a spell that could answer a lot of questions, but we have to wait for tomorrow.”

At his friends' alarmed confusion, he realised how much he had to tell them. He explained, again, all about Herne Bay, about Warren and Hazel and Julio’s spell.

“Wow,” said Elle when he finished. “We missed a lot.”

“Nick has been updating the group chat.”

“Ugh!” Tao groaned, looking at his phone. “We’ve been in lessons all afternoon. We didn’t see any of this.”

Elle scrolled through the missed messages, too. “Isaac and James have library duty right now, so they won’t have heard either.”

“Wait a minute,” said Tao. “Is that a grimoire?”

Charlie remembered the book in his lap. “Oh, yeah. It is.” 

“Oh my god, let me see!” Elle snatched it up from his hands before he could protest. “We’ve looked for our families’ grimoires for ages, but we can’t find them anywhere.”

“Um… could I have that back, please?” He hadn’t exactly been wanting to shout about it to everyone, but he supposed it was too late now. 

Elle stopped mid-page flick, suddenly guilty. “Sorry.” She handed it back. “I just got kind of excited.”

“No, I’m sorry,” said Charlie. “It just feels private, that’s all.” He held the book to his chest and leaned back against the sofa cushions, foot tapping restlessly.

“You really want to get this spell undone, don’t you?” said Tao.

“Yeah, I really do. I just… I need to wait for Nick.”

“Well, why do you need Nick specifically to go with you?” asked Elle. “Other than for the obvious reasons.”

“Yeah,” said Tao. “We could go the three of us. I mean, we’re not gonna hold your hand or make out with you while we’re at it, but I’d like to think we’re pretty good friends now.”

“We are friends,” said Charlie. “And I don’t want to make out with either of you.”

“But we can help you undo this spell,” said Elle. “I’m sure Nick will understand. He loves you.”

“I’m not so sure about that… But I should let him know what we’re doing before we go.” 

He considered explaining everything in a text, then decided a voice note would be better. He soon realised that neither of these methods of communication would be that helpful considering Nick was at work and nowhere near his phone. Still, Charlie hoped he didn’t sound too pleading or guilty in his note, even if he felt like shit for doing this without him. “I… I’m sorry.” He almost finished the note with I love you. But that would have been too much, wouldn’t it? They had been together for three days. He wasn’t even sure they were boyfriends.

The sun was setting by the time Charlie, Tao and Elle made it back into town. The three of them climbed into Elle’s car and set off for Herne Bay, Charlie keeping an eye on his phone the whole way.

“Stop worrying,” Tao scoffed from the passenger seat. “That boy is obsessed with you. He’s just working.”

It still didn’t feel great, going ahead with this plan without him. But an hour later, they had found a spot to park along Oakdale Road, and Charlie led the way up to Warren’s house.

“I don’t think he’s home,” said Elle.

The house was indeed dark and quiet. It was early for Warren to be sleeping, though. Charlie knocked on the door and waited.

Nothing.

“Maybe we should…?” Elle looked around the side of the house, towards the path which snaked around to the back of the property. 

At the same time, Charlie and Tao realised what she meant. “Are you serious?” Tao hissed, but Charlie ducked after her at once. Tao had no choice but to hurry after them, grumbling all the while. Around the side of the house, they came to a back door. Elle tried the handle—and it opened.

“This is so creepy,” said Tao. 

It was just an ordinary kitchen in an ordinary bungalow, but the darkness paired with the silence and the fact they were not supposed to be there—it wasn’t not creepy. Elle took Tao’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Wishing they had waited for Nick after all, but knowing there was no going back now, Charlie set off through the house, down the narrow hallway, into Hazel’s room.

She was exactly as she had been before, sitting in her armchair facing the window, her eyes closed. Tao and Elle hovered by the door, unnerved. “Now this is actually really creepy,” said Elle.

“Yes, well… let’s be as quick as we can.” Charlie took his grimoire from his coat pocket and began to search for the right page. Meanwhile, Tao and Elle edged around the chair to take in Hazel’s appearance for the first time. The rune on her wrist was still visible, just below her cardigan sleeve.

“Your dad did this?” Elle gasped. “Why?”

“We don’t know. That’s one of the things I’m hoping to find out.”

“I mean, what could anyone do to deserve—your dad must have been pretty powerful to—”

“Elle, please,” said Charlie. “Please, stop talking.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Charlie found the correct page and shoved the book into Elle’s hands. He took out the poultice vial and unstoppered it. “I’ve got to dab this on the rune, and then we’ll do the incantation together.”

“What language is this?” asked Tao, staring over Elle’s shoulder at the scribbled words.

“No idea.” Charlie cautiously knelt down beside Hazel. If she were to grab for him again he was ready. But there was no Nick or Warren to pull her off him this time. He trusted Tao and Elle, but neither of them had the strength. Why hadn’t he waited for Nick?

But Hazel remained immobile. He gently took her wrist and gooped some poultice over the rune. He smeared it around a little awkwardly, so it covered the entire underside of her wrist, just to make sure. “I suppose that’s it.” 

He pocketed the empty vial, then stepped back to stand with his friends. He and Tao leaned in as Elle held the book out for them to see. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

One eye on Hazel, the three of them began to chant. Twice through, they muddled through the strange words, foreign on their tongues. After the third repetition, they paused to watch Hazel’s face. 

Still unmoving. Eyes still closed. Charlie glanced at the dampness on her wrist. “Again?”

They repeated the incantation thrice more, a little more confident this time. 

But still, nothing happened.

“Shit,” Charlie murmured. As absurd as the whole thing seemed, he hadn’t realised until that moment how he had fully expected it to work. How much he needed it to work.

“I’m sorry,” said Elle, pulling Charlie into a side hug. “I thought it would work, too.”

Tao wrapped an arm around both of them and Charlie sighed. “Maybe Tara and Darcy were right. Maybe we really don’t know what we’re doing.”

Just then, they heard the front door click open. Then closed.

All three of them looked up from their huddle and froze. They stared at each other in horror. Warren was home.

Elle eyed the window, then threw it open. With some difficulty, all of them being tall, they clambered through and dropped down onto the grass outside. Thank goodness the house was a bungalow, Charlie thought as he kept low, waiting for Tao to drop down after him.

Hearts in their throats, they snuck back along the side of the house, around to the front. Warren’s car was in the driveway, and Warren himself was inside the house. Charlie let out a breath. They walked back to Elle’s car as casually as they could, Tao’s breaths coming heavy and laboured.

“I mean,” said Charlie as he climbed inside. “Maybe I did it wrong. I’ve never made a potion before.”

“Let’s just get out of here,” said Tao. “I can’t believe we did that. We just broke into someone’s house!”

Neither Charlie nor Elle had much to say to that. They drove away from Herne Bay, back towards home.

“Thanks for coming with me anyway,” said Charlie. “If we’d had to wait for tomorrow for this, then maybe it would have been worse.”

“No worries,” said Tao. “We’ve got your back.”

“Yeah,” said Elle. “And besides, we all lost someone in that barn fire. My mum and Tao’s dad. I don’t think my dad has ever gotten over it. Yan hasn’t either. We want to know what happened as much as anyone.”

“I suppose we’re all in the same boat,” said Charlie.

“Yep,” said Tao. “A boat full of sad witches.”

An hour later, they arrived back in Truham, night having fallen. Elle pulled up outside Charlie’s house, and he was about to get out when he hesitated. He looked back at his two friends and smiled. “Want to come in for a bit? We could watch a film or play video games? Take our minds off everything?”

Tao and Elle exchanged surprised but delighted looks. “Okay!”

“Yes, please.”

“Come on, then.”

Feeling better after their failure, Charlie hopped from the car and let them into the house. “I’d better tell Nick the bad news.” But, he thought, if Nick were to join them later, maybe the evening wouldn’t be a total loss after all.

✨

All evening, as he’d done his Tesco shop, Warren Foster had been reeling. How could, after sixteen years of waiting, two random boys showing up on his doorstep make Hazel move?

Not totally random boys, he considered. One of them had been Julio’s son. He could hardly believe it, but at the same time, he’d known Julio and Jane had had a child. Had known the lengths Julio had gone to protect him. For good reason. Though he suspected some of that may have been in vain now, considering where the boy was sticking his nose.

Just as he did every night, Warren went into Hazel’s room and made sure everything was clean, neat and tidy. It always was, of course, but it felt good to be doing something for her, even if it was just making sure that when she did wake up—eventually—that she was comfortable, calm and unafraid.

She was, as always, in her chair by the window, the sight of her comforting to him now. As familiar as she had been for almost half his life. He plumped the cushions on the sofa and felt a distinctive cool breeze coming from the window. He turned, frowning and saw it was open. He didn’t remember opening it. It was October. It was freezing outside. He went to shut it, then grabbed a blanket from the wardrobe to tuck over Hazel’s lap.

Warren spent his evening pottering about, humming to himself as he made dinner. He sat on the sofa in Hazel’s room, as he always did, to eat and talk to her about his day. About contractors and construction site gossip, about the two sweet boys who had visited them and how he thought they might have been dating.

He didn’t see the movement beneath her skin.

She didn’t see it either, but she definitely felt it.

Starting from just beneath her left wrist, it travelled up her arm, past her elbow—a slithering, skittering glide. 

He heard her gasp though, saw her jerk awake, her chin jutting sharply skywards. “Hazel?”

All at once, her shoulders relaxed, her head came down, and she breathed.

Warren pushed aside his food tray and leapt to his feet. “Oh my god.”

Maybe that boy had done something after all. Maybe he should be sending him and his boyfriend flowers.

Using the arms of the chair to steady herself, Hazel pushed onto her feet. Her chest rose and fell, her breaths heavy and ragged, as if she was as shocked to be awake and standing as he was to see her. She looked up at him, and despite the sixteen years difference, her face changed in recognition. Her little brother. Not so little anymore.

She smiled. And Warren couldn’t help it, he grinned, too. “Hey, Hazel.”

He held out his arms, to fold her into a hug. But then she coughed. And it suddenly seemed difficult for her to breathe. Until her breaths were coming out more and more like big, shuddering gasps. Until her face changed again, this time contracting into fury. Gasps turned into guttural growls, and she bared her teeth like a wild animal.

“Hazel?” Warren took a step back. “What the fuck is happening?”

She ran at him, her hands extended and shoved him. He flew across the room, hit the wall by the door and slid to the carpet with a massive thud.

Hazel twitched. 

Looked down at her brother, crumpled and unmoving.

Curious…

She stepped over him and darted from the house.

Chapter Text

chapter eight: beyond witchcraft

Of all the shifts Nick should have missed, that afternoon’s was up there. And to think, he could have spent the time with his miraculous new maybe-boyfriend. Instead, he’d spent the remainder of his day dealing with every kind of terrible customer under the sun. The coffee machine broke twice, croissants were dropped, tea was spilled. One baby puked up all over the floor while another wailed in sympathy. It was safe to say, while Nick loved working at Nellie’s and was proud of his mum beyond words for running such a successful business, some days he couldn’t wait to be rid of the place.

By the time he got to sit down it was gone eight. It seemed absurd that they had only found out about Hazel about six hours ago. It had been a long, long day. He wasn’t sure when the image of her sitting so utterly still in that chair would leave his head. Probably long before the image of her suddenly grabbing Charlie like she had.

Nick tossed his apron onto a hook, washed his hands, then grabbed his phone from the side. He clicked the power button—but nothing happened. Great. And now he had to walk home. He’d left his car outside Charlie’s house. Maybe that was just the excuse he needed for a sneaky visit before bed. But then again, did he need an excuse anymore? They were… boyfriends? Maybe?

He turned out the lights, then crossed the cafe floor, keys in hand. He was just making sure the shutters were secure when Tara and Darcy appeared, hurrying towards the cafe from across the road. Nick flung the door open and they both tumbled inside, panting as if they’d run all the way there.

“That god,” Darcy gasped, hands on their knees. “Where the fuck have you been? You haven’t been answering our texts or anything!”

“Um… I’ve been here,” said Nick. “I do work here. And my phone is dead, so… sorry.”

Tara took a deep breath, then grabbed onto his arms with an alarming intensity. “Please tell me you haven’t tried that counterspell yet.”

“No. We’re going tomorrow.” Nick stepped back and thankfully, Tara let go of him.

“Thank god,” Darcy said again. “Show him the book!”

They batted Tara’s arm and she took out from under her arm a large, glossy book. Nick recognised it as one of the ones Darcy had borrowed from the cottage to take home to study.

“I knew there was something about that rune that bugged me.” Tara rifled through the pages, then turned it around so Nick could see. “Look at this. These are all ubilaz markings—really old, dark magic. We’re talking demons, evil entities, possession.”

Nick took in the various markings displayed across the pages, and spotted a match of the one of Hazel’s arm, the same as in Charlie’s grimoire. Two straight lines crossing a third curved one. “You think Hazel is possessed?”

Tara turned the page. “The notes are all about using snakes and insects as vessels for dark energy, and then forcing them inside a person. The rune is a suppression spell designed to keep it from coming back out.” She lowered the book, eyes wide in fearful desperation. But Nick was beginning to understand. “This is beyond witchcraft. This is seriously dark magic.”

“None of this was in Charlie’s book,” he said. “If we’d known this, we never would have considered trying the spell.”

Darcy shrugged. “That’s kind of our point.”

Nick let out a sigh, then reached for his phone in his pocket before remembering— “Fuck. My phone is still useless. I’d better get to Charlie’s. He needs to know the truth.”

✨

“We have Pringles, cheese straws and I brought the grapes up, too, you know, for health.” Charlie moved aside a stack of books and set the snacks down on his bedside table.

“Oh my god, thanks, Charlie,” said Elle, reaching for the crisps. “I’m starving.”

Tao lounged beside her on the bed, flicking through Charlie’s grimoire so intently he didn’t even notice the food. Elle wafted the Pringle tube in his general direction and he looked up. “Ooh! Gimme those!”

As the pair of them giggled and flirted, feeding each other crisps, Charlie deftly slipped the grimoire out from under Tao and tucked it away on the mantelpiece with some other books. He would have to remember to put it back in the secret compartment later. As much as he loved Tao and Elle, he figured the fewer people who knew about the compartment, the safer it was.

Charlie’s hand went absently to his pocket and he took out his phone.

“Has he still not replied?” asked Elle.

Charlie shook his head. “He must be done with work by now. The cafe closed an hour ago.” There was a distant knock from the front door. “Maybe that’s him!” He dropped his phone onto the bed and hurried for the door. “I’ll be back in a sec—and I won’t be such a third wheel anymore.”

“Sorry!” Tao yelled after him. “Could you come back with a cup of tea, too?!”

“Fine, your majesties!” Charlie shouted back, laughing as he set off down the stairs.

At the bottom he stopped and stared.

The front door was standing open, blowing back and forth in the breeze from outside. Several crunchy leaves had blown across the hallway floor. Charlie kicked them back out, then shut the door, frowning. Locked it. He stood there, peered down the darkened hall and listened hard. Nothing seemed out of place. Kathleen wasn’t home.

He shook off the lingering feeling of dread and headed for the kitchen.

Had Nick really been held up at the cafe or was Charlie just being clingy? He opened the fridge, took out the milk—then jumped so hard he dropped the bottle.

A woman was standing in the kitchen. She was just standing there by the back door, staring out into the garden. The milk hit the floor and she turned her distant gaze upon him.

He almost didn’t recognise her out of her armchair.

“Where’s Julio?” Her voice was frail with disuse. “Can you help me find Julio?”

Charlie backed up against the fridge, clicking the door shut behind him. “He’s not here. How did you—?”

Her bottom lip trembled. Her right hand moved to scratch her left, just above where the rune lay. 

“Are you alright?”

Hazel continued to scratch, like she had a really difficult itch. “I need to see him.”

“Oh, well… he passed away.” 

Tears welled in Hazel’s eyes and they spilled down her cheeks.

“Sorry,” said Charlie. “I—I’m his son. I’m Charlie.”

Like a switch had been flicked, the woman’s tears stopped. She looked up at him—for she was a head shorter than he was—eyes wide and desperate. “Charlie,” she said. “You’re his baby. I tried to help him take you away.”

“He did. He took me far away from here.”

“He wanted you to be safe. He tried to leave that night…”

“Which night?” Charlie tried to take a deep breath, to calm his initial shock. “Do you mean the night of the barn fire? Can you tell me what happened?”

“He was… he was trying to stop it.” Her tears came in fresh abandon, her voice wavering as she sniffled. “He wanted to protect us—all of us. But it went inside me.”

Charlie stared. “What did?”

“I don’t know.” She gripped her left arm, her voice weaker than ever. “Something bad. Something… evil.”

Something icey dropped down Charlie’s spine.

“I can still feel it,” Hazel gasped. “It hurts.”

A scream tore from Hazel’s throat and she fell sideways, into the wall. She leaned there, chest heaving, face screwed up in pure agony. Hands outstretched, Charlie moved towards her—to do what, he didn’t know.

“Please!” she cried. “Your father couldn’t get it out but he made the pain go away and now it’s come back!”

Again, she was thrown sideways into the wall—as if something inside her was doing the throwing. Before it could happen a third time, Charlie darted out between Hazel and the wall and cushioned her fall. He placed his hands on her shoulders and tried to hold her steady. She managed to look into his face, her own white with pain. “Can you help me? Please ?”

“I don’t know how.”

Charlie’s heart clenched as Hazel began to sob, loud and pain-filled, clutching at her hair. “Please! Make it stop!” She threw her head back and screamed. Her entire body jerked, spasmed and she stumbled into the dining room, screaming and screaming. Charlie hurried after her, horrified. But what could he do? He could hardly think.

Hazel fell flat onto her back on the dining room rug and the spasms finally seemed to dwindle. She lay there, utterly still, not even out of breath. Charlie hovered over her. A dribble of saliva rolled down her cheek, leaving a trail of moisture in its wake. Her eyes remained open, but they had fallen as blank as the rest of her. Just as she had been in that chair.

Heart racing, Charlie let out a breath. Slowly, he crouched down and took her wrist in his hand, feeling for a pulse. A moment later, she moved—it was only a small movement, but Charlie jumped backwards, landing hard on the rug beside her. Hazel frowned softly and blinked, as if waking up from a deep sleep. “What happened?” she rasped.

“You… you fainted.”

He glanced down at her wrist, bare from where he’d moved aside her cardigan sleeve. The rune was still there, dark black and stark against her pale skin. “Is that what my dad did? Is that how he stopped your pain?”

Hazel looked down at the mark, too. “Yes.”

Steadily, she reached for the dining table and began to push herself onto her feet. Charlie scrambled up and helped her the rest of the way.

“I went to find him at the barn party but I couldn’t.”

“Do you know how the fire started?”

She shook her head, hand scratching at her rune yet again. “Wherever there are witches, evil follows.”

“What do you mean? Why was my dad there in the first place?”

“They’d been summoned,” she said. “They were trying to use your father’s power—his and his friends.”

“Who was? What for?”

“But he couldn’t stop them all, and one of them got inside me.”

“One what?” Charlie glanced upwards and wondered whether his friends were making out so intently they had missed the racket Hazel had been making. “Hazel, please, tell me what he was trying to stop.”

“Demons.”

Charlie froze. Hazel breathed in a sharp, halting breath—and let it out with a wheeze. Her breaths gradually grew faster and faster, until she was coughing, choking. Her neck drew upwards and Charlie could only watch, panic stricken, as something snake-like slithered beneath her skin, up her throat, up inside her cheek towards her head, behind her hair… into her brain.

Her head dropped back down again, her eyes wide and changed.

“Hazel?”

She stepped forward, extended her arms and shoved him.

Charlie flew—through the dining room door and across the kitchen. He hit the fridge door with such force the whole thing shuddered. He slid into a crumpled heap on the floor and did not move.

✨

He was half way to Britannia Road when he felt it. A jolt inside his chest. Nick stopped dead in his tracks. Tara and Darcy frowned at him in confusion. Dread dropped into his heart and then he was moving again. “Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Just give me your phone, please.”

Tara handed it over. Nick’s fingers shook over the screen. Something was wrong. He didn’t know how he knew it but something had happened. And he needed to speak to Charlie. 

“He’s not picking up!” He listened desperately as it rang and rang. “Ugh! Voicemail.”

“Try again,” said Darcy.

The three of them continued to stride along. Nick wanted to run, but then the line finally clicked through. “Hi, it’s me—”

“Hi, sweetie!”

“What? Who is this?”

“It’s Charlie,” said the high falsetto. “I miss you, Nicky-noo. Come and make magic with me.”

“Tao?” Nick gripped the phone tighter. “Why are you answering Charlie’s phone?”

Tao scoffed. Nick could almost hear him roll his eyes. “I’m at his house with Elle. He’s been trying to reach you for hours. Why are you using Tara’s phone?”

“Mine died. Can you put Charlie on?”

“He’s downstairs.”

“Well, can you please go and get him, then?”

Tao hefted himself up from the bed where he’d been curled comfortably around Elle, munching on crisps. He sloped out of the room, towards the stairs. “Hey, Charlie!” he called. “Dreamboat’s on the phone, simply desperate for you!” He laughed to himself as he stepped down into the hall.

He froze. The phone in his hand fell limply to his side.

Through the open kitchen door, on the floor by the fridge lay Charlie. And he wasn’t moving.

“Charlie?”

“What is it? What’s going on?” Nick’s tinny voice on the other end of the call barely reached Tao’s ears. He ran, skidding down the hall towards his fallen friend. 

At his side, he grasped Charlie’s shoulders and was about to try and shake him awake when he heard footsteps. He looked up—and there she was, Hazel, coming towards him with considerable speed, brandishing a fire poker. 

Tao let out a cry and stumbled away from Charlie, catching himself against the wall. “What the fuck, what the fuck?”

Hazel considered him curiously, her head twitching from side to side. This was definitely not the same Hazel he and Elle had met a few hours ago. She took a step closer towards him and he backed into the hall. She took another step, her movements jerky and uncoordinated—until they weren’t. Until they were fluid and controlled and fast.

Tao turned and hurtled back down the hall to the stairs. “Tao?” came a distant shout from the phone in his hand. “What is going on?”

He lifted the phone to his mouth and managed to yell, “Hazel’s here and I think she’s fucking possessed!”

Nick’s distant exclamation was cut off as Tao shoved the phone into his pocket and sprinted up the stairs. Hazel was right behind him, groaning and growling in a way that could not have been good for her vocal chords. Along the upstairs landing, Tao threw himself into Charlie’s bedroom and shut the door behind him, panting hard.

Elle sat up on the bed—but there was no time for Tao to explain, because then the door behind him shuddered. Hazel had slammed into it from the other side. Elle leapt up and together, they pushed against the door with all their might.

“Is that—?”

“Hazel! Yes!”

Hazel was strong. She pushed once, twice—on the third time, she burst through, sending Tao and Elle tumbling aside. They grabbed onto each others’ hands as Hazel tore inside after them. Before they knew it, she had them backed up against the window with no way to escape. Tao glanced down into the garden below—it was a long way down to climb or to jump.

Hazel staggered closer, still watching them both as if they were fascinating but also confusing to her. Or as if she were choosing who to kill first.

Elle squeezed Tao’s hand and somehow he knew what she meant. He counted to three in his head, then dove to the right. Hazel swiped out with her poker, but Tao rolled away across the bed. He staggered upright on the other side of the room in time to hear Elle scream. Hazel pinned her to the wall, her thin hand around Elle’s throat.

“NO!”

Tao didn’t need to think. Didn’t need to concentrate on magic for the first time in his witch-life. He felt Elle’s magic connect with his own seamlessly, and Hazel was blasted backwards. She flew through the bedroom door and disappeared with a distant thud into the hallway.

Elle fell away from the wall, rubbing at her throat. Tao hurried to her side. “Oh god, are you okay?”

She nodded and gripped his hand again as they edged closer to the door. “Where’s Charlie?” Elle whispered.

“He was in the kitchen. I don’t know what she did to him, but—”

A hand appeared around the door frame—and Hazel staggered back into view. Tao and Elle tightened their grip on each other and Hazel was blasted backwards once again. This time, they took their chance.

Back towards the stairs, they ran down them—but Hazel was quick to recover and hot on their toes. She sprung with impossible height, jumped over their heads to land in front of them at the foot of the stairs. Tao and Elle screamed as they almost ploughed into her.

“Hey!” came a shout.

Charlie was standing in the kitchen doorway, pale and messy-haired, but glaring daggers at Hazel. At his shout, Hazel turned and Tao and Elle darted past her, across the hall, into the living room. 

Through the house, they sprinted until they caught up with Charlie in the dining room. He led the way into the office right at the back of the house. It was dark in there and quiet, and they crept as silently as they could behind the desk to huddle together, listening hard.

Tao clutched at a stitch in his chest and tried to calm his breathing. Elle was shaking beside him and Charlie’s fingers were cold over his own. Charlie turned to the other two, a finger over his lips. They stared at each other in the dim light. Hazel had gone quiet. Where was she? Had she lost them? Was she still wondering the house? It felt like they sat there for an eternity, waiting and worrying. But then Charlie shifted up into a crouch. 

“Front door,” he whispered. “Run.”

The distance required only a short dash but it seemed infinite in that moment. Keeping his hand firmly in Elle’s, Tao got to his feet—and then they were running. Back the way they’d come, through the dining room. A lamp toppled off the sideboard as they hurtled past and shattered in their wake. Across the kitchen and down the hall, Charlie threw open the front door.

They screamed.

Two people were standing on the front step, about to knock. Tao pushed Elle further behind him before he realised who it was.

“It’s us!” said Isaac. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, shit,” James gasped. “Behind you!”

A pair of arms tightened around Tao from behind and he was thrown backwards down the hall. He stumbled onto the hardwood floor, and looked up to see Hazel standing over him. She let out an animalistic hiss which was cut off by Elle’s shout. “STOP!”

Behind Hazel’s head, Tao watched Elle, Charlie, Isaac and James form a solid wall of power, framed by the open front door. The four of them stepped forward, bearing down on Hazel. Tao swore he felt the air around them crackle with sheer magic. 

Hazel froze. She turned, stared each of them in the face until her gaze landed and stuck upon Charlie. He held it valiantly, and, as Tao got shakily to his feet, somehow he knew she would no longer fight them. She was outnumbered now, five to one. She gave a final, snarly growl, dropped the fire poker with a clatter, then fled past them and out into the night.

While Isaac and James stewed in their immediate shock, Elle drew Tao into her arms and he clung to her tight. Charlie took a breath, then ran after Hazel.

He sprinted down the front path and out onto the road. It was dark and cold and Hazel was fast—faster even than he was—and she’d had a head start. Hazel hurtled along the central white markings of the road and Charlie followed. He could hear the others behind him, but there was no time to turn back. He didn’t know what he would do when he caught up with her, but then—a car door sprang open between him and Hazel—and Warren Foster stepped out.

“Hazel?” he cried. “Hazel, it’s me!”

At the corner of the road ahead, Hazel came to an abrupt stop. She whirled around to look at her brother. Charlie came to a stop beside Warren—just as the car came. From left to right, the car knocked clear through Hazel. A dull thunk rocked the night and she tumbled like a ragdoll over the bonnet before she came to land, sprawled and broken on the tarmac.

Things seemed to morph into slow motion. Warren disappeared from Charlie’s side, but came up short before he could make it to Hazel. Don’t look too close, Charlie thought. He didn’t want to look too close, but alas, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her fallen form. 

A car door slammed and the driver hurried over, his fingers clutching his face in frantic terror. Warren sank to his knees, and still Charlie couldn’t look away. Not even as he felt the others coming up behind him. He could hear their heavy breathing, hear their panicked questions, their shouts of alarm. But numbness crawled up his spine, making everything fuzzy.

“She came out of nowhere,” the driver kept saying. “She came out of nowhere.”

Charlie didn’t know how long he stood there, watching the scene unfold. All he knew was the moment everything came back to him. The clatter of footfalls against the pavement brought him out of his daze. Three people appeared around the corner. And then Nick was running towards him, Tara and Darcy following behind. And then Charlie was sinking into his arms. A dry sob escaped his throat as he pressed his face into his shoulder. 

Nick wrapped his arms around him and, over Charlie’s buried head, looked around in confusion. When he’d heard Tao’s frantic cries over the phone, his heart had dropped out of his body. And when the call had cut off, the dread inside him had deepened and he had run. He’d had no idea what he would find when he got there, only that he had to get to Charlie. 

Turning the corner and seeing him standing in the middle of the road, alive and breathing, relief had flooded him. But now, with him shaking between his arms, Warren on his knees before them, Hazel’s blood painting the tarmac a reddish black, the dread had returned. All he could do was hold onto Charlie. If he focused on the softness of his messy curls against his cheek, of his pulse thrumming through both their chests, then everything would be okay.

The sound of sirens reached them slowly, then all at once. From around the corner, the police and an ambulance came, and then a hand appeared on Nick’s shoulder. Isaac guided him and Charlie onto the pavement where the others had gathered. They watched, all eight of them, their arms around each other, as emergency services got to work. Watched an officer speak to the driver, someone speak to Warren, several people lift Hazel onto a stretcher. “We have to take the body now, Mr Foster.”

Charlie lifted his head to see Warren stroke his sister’s damp hair, glance up at their huddle briefly, then look back down to cover Hazel’s face with a blanket. Her left arm had fallen limply over the side of her stretcher and as she was wheeled into the back of the ambulance, blood drip-dripped a trail after her. 

Charlie watched in fuzzy fascination as Warren moved towards them, walking like a man set adrift, though not necessarily by choice. They were standing right by his car, he realised.

“I’m so sorry,” Charlie heard himself whisper.

“She’s at peace now,” said Warren, gruffly. He opened his car door, climbed inside and drove away.

“I hope he’ll be okay.”

Nick kissed Charlie’s head again. “He will be.”

The eight witches continued to watch on as the ambulance departed and the police drove away. A breeze ruffled the tidy hedges of Britannia Road. A couple of golden leaves skittered past their feet. The witches let out a collective breath.

“Is everyone okay?” asked Isaac.

“Charlie?” Tao turned at once to Charlie, still secure under Nick’s arm. “I came downstairs and you were out cold. Scared the shit out of me.”

“What?” Nick breathed. “What happened?”

“She—she pushed me. I think whatever was possessing her must have been super strong because, like, I flew. I hit my head, I suppose. When I woke up she was gone, but I heard you both screaming and… yeah…”

“Jesus.” Nick stepped away just enough to check Charlie over for injury. He cupped the back of his head, as if he might be able to squint through the curls at a bruise or something. “Maybe we should take you to the hospital. You might have a concussion.”

“Nick,” Charlie sighed. “I have a bit of a headache but I’m okay. I really just want to sleep.”

That did not sit well with Nick. He raised his eyebrows sceptically. “Are you sure?”

Charlie nodded.

“Well,” said Nick. “I’m not leaving your side until you’re one hundred percent, okay?”

Charlie managed a small smile. “That sounds perfect.”

“Okay,” said James. “Is anyone going to explain what the fuck that was?”

“Yeah,” said Isaac. “We were next door and we saw her go after you through the window. Thought you might have needed some help, but… Who was that woman and what was wrong with her?”

“That was Hazel Foster,” said Darcy. “And she was possessed by a demon.”

“That’s what she told me,” said Charlie. “Before it took her over completely she just seemed scared, and she spoke to me a bit. She said my dad put that rune on her to suppress the demon, to protect Hazel and to protect everyone else.” He looked up at Nick and smiled. “He was trying to help her.” 

Nick smiled back, relieved. But Isaac and James were still not pleased with their level of explanation.

“But who was she?” asked Isaac.

Elle sighed. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll give you a lift home if you like, and we can explain the rest on the way.”

“It’s all on the group chat,” said Nick. “I have been keeping it updated all afternoon.”

“We had library duty,” said James. “And lessons before that.”

Isaac put a hand on his shoulder. “Am I still alright for that sleepover? I don’t really want to go home alone right now. We can catch up with the group chat and watch that Carrie adaptation you were talking about.”

“Not sure I’m still up for Carrie, but of course you can sleep over.”

James and Isaac drifted back down the road, and Tao and Elle climbed back into Elle’s car. Tara and Darcy hurried after them, in need of a lift themselves. Nick and Charlie remained on the pavement until their friends were out of sight. Their gazes drifted to the blood-stained tarmac. A shiver ran up Nick’s back and he felt Charlie shudder, too. He gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, and got them both moving again. Together, they walked the short distance down the road to Charlie’s house. The front door was still hanging open. 

Inside, Charlie closed it with a snap, then locked it tight. Still shivery and pale, he bent to pick up the fallen fire poker. “What was I thinking?” he said as he inspected the sharp end. “Tara and Darcy were right. I have no idea what I’m doing and—and now Hazel’s dead.”

“I think,” said Nick. “If we couldn’t get that thing—that demon—out of her, and if it was causing her and others pain, then maybe it was kinder to just… end it.”

Charlie grimaced. He knew Nick was right. He moved absently into the living room and replaced the poker in the stand beside the fireplace. Nick followed, holding true to his word about not letting him out of his sight.

“I’m sorry I went to wake her without you,” said Charlie. “I did try to call you, but…”

“Ugh!” Nick groaned. “It’s not your fault, Char. My phone died. But…” He shrugged. “I would have been fine with it anyway, even if I’d known.”

“Really?”

“Of course. It would have been selfish to be bothered by something like that. But I’m glad you had Tao and Elle with you.”

They drifted through into the dining room where the remains of the lamp they’d knocked over were strewn across the rug.

“We didn’t even think it had worked,” said Charlie. “But I suppose it must have done, because she followed us back here.” He blinked in realisation. “Our magic worked. The poultice and the incantation—we did it!”

Nick surprised himself with his own laughter. “Yes!”

Giggling to themselves, they high-fived.

“Here,” said Charlie. “Help me clean this up before my gran gets home?”

Charlie held out a hand and Nick took it They lifted their clasped hands out over the broken shards, closed their eyes and focused. A moment later, they opened their eyes to find each piece of lamp floating in midair around them. It was simple, really. A nudge here, a gentler nudge there. Until they encouraged each piece to fit back together. Just a little heat, a little pressure, and the lamp toppled back onto the sideboard, as good as new.

They observed their work for several moments, then chuckled at their success. Things felt better then, as Nick followed Charlie into the kitchen. They did have some control over their lives and magic wasn’t always terrible or scary. Charlie’s magic felt like a warm hug and that was exactly what they both needed. 

Nick watched Charlie pick up a fallen bottle of milk from the floor and put it back in the fridge. “Have you eaten?” he asked.

Charlie shook his head. “I’m not that hungry.”

“Some paracetamol, I think. And maybe some soup? And bed, please, Spring.”

With only a little more coaxing, Charlie agreed to get changed into some pyjamas and lie down while Nick made the soup. He brought it up to him on a tray and then snuggled down in bed beside him to eat. It was an effort not to spill it, but then, as they joked, they could just magic the sheets clean again if they did.

Hours later, when the bowls had been cleaned away, the lights had been turned out and the two of them were lying in the dark in Charlie’s bed, Nick buried his head in the crook of Charlie’s neck and inhaled.

“I’m so glad your dad was trying to do the right thing,” he murmured.

“Me too,” said Charlie. “I can’t believe I ever doubted him.”

“He sounds like he was a pretty special man, your dad.”

“Yeah, he was.”

At Charlie’s wistful tone, Nick rolled over onto his back—and gasped. “Whoa!”

Charlie chuckled, already having been watching the stars across the ceiling. “He put those there. To start with they just looked like normal glow in the dark stickers, but now they’re—”

“Galaxies,” said Nick, awed. “Look, a shooting star!”

“Make a wish!”

The star winked out of existence. “I don’t need to,” said Nick. “I have everything I need right here in this bed.”

“Pfft!” Charlie batted at his arm. “Sap!”

“It’s true!”

“Wow, I can’t believe you just wasted your wish.” Charlie abandoned the stars to look instead at Nick—the planet he now revolved around. Quite happily and comfortably. “Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we… boyfriends?”

Nick stared, his eyes glittering in the darkness. “Er… yes? Was that not established the last ten times we made out?”

“Oh—yeah—we never really talked about it, though.”

Nick snickered and Charlie giggled, too. And then they were both laughing and clinging to each other under the duvet, under the stars. 

“I’m your boyfriend,” Nick whispered, then kissed him. “You’re my boyfriend.” He kissed him again. “We’re boyfriends.” They kissed a third time, and a shower of stardust burst across the ceiling, bathing them in shining silver light.

Chapter Text

chapter nine: don’t make the same mistake

Charlie pulled open the fridge and closed his eyes, letting the coolness wash over him.

“Did you get any sleep at all last night?” asked Kathleen as she pottered around the kitchen.

“A little.” The cold was actually making his head hurt worse. He grabbed the milk and shut the door again. He dumped some into his cereal and sat down at the kitchen table. Nick grinned at him from behind his toast. Charlie gave him a questioning look. “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just very cute.”

“Were you staring at me, Nicholas?”

“Shut up and eat your cereal.”

“Wow,” said Charlie. “Is that how you speak to your boyfriend?”

Kathleen hadn’t been that surprised when Nick had accompanied Charlie into the kitchen that morning, his hair damp from the shower. She seemed pretty laid back about it, actually. Comforted to know Charlie had not been alone after last night.

“I still can’t believe you both witnessed that horrible accident,” she said as she poured her tea. “That poor woman.”

Charlie stared into his cereal. “I know.”

“She was friends with your dad back in the day, Hazel Foster. Did you know that?”

“No,” Charlie murmured.

“She’d been ill for a long time. Housebound.” Kathleen shook her head and sipped her tea. “I can’t imagine what she was doing in this neck of the woods.”

Determinedly avoiding Nick’s eye, Charlie managed a non-committal shrug. His grandmother gave her head a little shake, then joined them at the table. “So… what were you up to last night?”

Without meaning to, Nick and Charlie both looked up at each other—and saw their reddened cheeks. “Um…” said Charlie. “J-just hanging out. Tao and Elle were here for a bit and then Nick, obviously…”

“Elle Argent and Tao Xu?”

Charlie frowned. “Yes. Is that bad?” He hadn’t expected them to be the first line of questioning. 

“No, not at all. I’m glad you’ve made friends so easily. It makes sense, I suppose, that you’d all find each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that you have so much in common. Your parents were all such close friends, too.”

His hand shook slightly as he stirred his cereal. “Well, it is a small town, I suppose.”

“Your dad and his friends went through a lot together. Ultimately a lot of tragedy.”

His spoon dropped into the bowl with a clatter. His throat grew tight and suddenly, the sugary flakes and milk resembled nothing but cold sludge. He drew a wrist across his mouth, willing himself not to be sick. 

“Charlie?”

He was only half aware of Nick’s dawning concern, only half aware of him dropping the remains of his toast onto his plate and dusting off his hands, of him gathering his coat from the back of his chair. “We should get going,” he said. “Thanks for the breakfast.”

Through the fog, Nick’s hand appeared, and Charlie took it, allowed him to lead him up from the table and to the kitchen door.

“One moment, boys,” said Kathleen. She looked from one saddened expression to the other. “How about I make us a nice dinner tonight? I’d love to catch up—and you’re invited, too, of course, Nick.”

Charlie nodded, his voice hoarse. “Okay.”

“I’d love to come, thanks, Mrs Spring.”

She smiled sadly, then crossed the room and pulled Charlie into a hug. He didn’t want to let go of Nick’s hand, but he did so anyway, to pat his grandmother awkwardly on the back.

“There’s nothing you can’t talk to me about, you know that, right?” she murmured.

He stepped out of the hug and re-anchored himself to Nick. “Yeah, I know.”

They made it into the hall, grabbed their bags, donned their coats and set off out towards Nick’s car before the tears came. Taking both Nick and Charlie by surprise. Charlie stopped halfway down the front path and Nick turned back in alarm. “Oh, Char…”

“I’m never going to see my dad again.” His bottom lip quivered, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t force the tears back inside. They slid down his cheeks as he tipped forward into Nick’s chest. His hands went at once to his hair and his back, rocking him gently and whispering soothing words.

“It’s okay, Char, it’s okay…”

“I’m s-sorry.”

“You’re okay. Cry if you need to. There’s nothing wrong with having a cry.”

Gradually, his sniffles fizzled out and he relaxed between Nick’s arms. He looked up slowly into his face, knowing his own was still red and blotchy. “We’re gonna be late for school.”

Nick shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“But you still need to get changed.” Charlie took a deep breath, sniffed, then scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeves. “Let’s just go.” He strode the rest of the way to the car, and Nick hurried after him. 

As they drove the short distance to River Crescent, Charlie did seem to be trying to appear more cheerful, but Nick knew what grief did to people, even years and years after the fact. Charlie’s dad had died three months ago. It was actually pretty surprising he hadn’t broken down like that before now. Though, Nick realised, he probably had, just not in front of him.

At Nick’s house, he nipped upstairs to get changed while Charlie remained in Nellie’s trusted paws. Something about her non-judgemental gaze and her slobbery kisses made things seem a little brighter. Like everything would be okay. 

Charlie sank to the floor by the shoe rack, bundled the dog into his arms and let a few stray tears fall into her fur. She licked his cheek. “Boof!”

“Good girl, Nellie,” said Nick, finding them both there.

“Bork, bork!” She abandoned Charlie for Nick, tail wagging.

Charlie laughed wetly and got to his feet. “She clearly loves you more than me.”

“Only because I know where the treats are kept.”

They fussed Nellie a little more, fed her a few treats, then Nick grabbed a couple of apples before leading the way back out to the car. 

Charlie leaned his head against the window, watching the town flit past, his apple sitting uneaten in his hand. He hadn’t slept that well last night and the morning's events had dropped his energy even lower. He knew he should probably eat the apple, but couldn’t quite bring himself to.

“I feel a bit bad,” he murmured. “About how I’ve been around my gran.”

Nick glanced at him. “How do you mean?”

“She’s barely around, but that’s not her fault. She has a busy, important, tiring job, but when she is there, like this morning… I dunno, I just… I want to open up to her, but I can’t. Because all the stuff I want to talk to her about is witch stuff.”

“I get it,” said Nick. “I’m the same way with my mum. Every time I’m about to ask her about something I have to stop myself.”

“But I don’t understand why we can’t just ask them? Surely they’d be able to help us figure some things out.”

“They’ve hidden magic from us our whole lives,” said Nick. “They obviously don’t want us to know about it. And if they found out we already knew, there’s a chance it could all be taken away. One of the last entries in Tara’s grimoire talks about our parents’ coven being punished for their actions—by having their powers stripped away.”

“Stripped away? By who?”

“The book refers to the elders. We think that must mean the generation before.”

“Like my grandmother?” said Charlie. “So she still has her powers?”

“We think so,” said Nick. “All the other elders are either dead or live far away. There’s only your gran and Elle’s grandpa who even still live in Kent.”

They pulled into the school car park and Charlie sighed. “I want to be closer to her. She’s the only family I have left.”

“I don’t think she would hold your distance against you, Char. She seems really nice.”

“Hmm… well, she did just invite you to dinner, so I think you must have her approval.”

“Crap,” said Nick. “I’m gonna have to be on my best behaviour.”

“What are you talking about?” Charlie laughed. “We just had breakfast together—and you love that horrible sandwich pickle she makes.”

“I still want to make a good impression, though. If she found a reason to hate me she might not take so kindly to finding me in your bed next time.”

“In that case,” said Charlie. “You’d better be a fucking gentleman, then.” Nick laughed, but Charlie shook his head. “I’m joking. Nobody could hate you, Nick. Nobody.”

✨

Isaac was kind of glad to wave goodbye to James outside the library that morning. Over the last few weeks, they had grown to be closer friends, and they’d had a nice enough time at their sleepover last night. They had both fallen asleep before the film ended, and when Isaac had woken up on the mattress on James’ bedroom floor, it was to find that each little noise around him caused his head to pound.

It had taken a lot of grumbling and whining to heave himself out of bed and ready for school. James had been a little too overly sympathetic all morning, and while Isaac did appreciate his concern, those wide smiles and kind words grated on his nerves.

What was wrong with him? Isaac wondered as he headed for form. He often prided himself on having never missed a day of school ever, but maybe he should have caved and broken his streak. His headache was becoming all-consuming, the pain spreading down his neck. He rubbed at it—and walked straight into someone coming the other way.

“Watch it!” Isaac snapped.

Mr Argent stared. “I beg your pardon.”

Isaac froze. He shifted awkwardly. “I am so sorry, sir. I don’t know what’s gotten into me today. I just feel really awful.”

The head teacher smiled. “That’s fine. Just please, watch where you’re going.”

“I will. Sorry.”

Richard watched the boy hurry away, then continued on to his office. Pauline was sitting in the chair opposite the desk, her back straight, so prim and proper he couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Hazel Foster was killed outside the Spring house last night,” she said by way of greeting.

He sighed and sloped around to sink into his desk chair. “Yes, I’m aware. And in front of our children.”

“Do you think she said anything to them?”

He shook his head. “She was supposed to be catatonic for the rest of her life. I’m not even sure how she was able to get out of her front door. We always knew having them bind the coven might attract unwanted attention.”

“I never thought they’d face this kind of danger,” said Pauline. “And certainly not so soon.”

“The more they’re confronted with, the more they’ll dig, and we’re not yet equipped to protect them from what they might find.”

“We will be. The blood moon is tonight and I’ve got everything ready. Meet me at the usual spot in the woods at nine. We don’t want to miss it.”

“No,” said Richard. “We don’t.” He got to his feet and strode to the door. “What do you say we use phones for these kinds of conversations in future?” He opened his office door and swept his hand in a hopeful gesture.

Pauline stood up, eyebrows raised sarcastically. “But it’s so nice to see you in person.”

Unbeknownst to Pauline, as she walked back through the gates of Truham Grammer, towards her car, Elle Argent spotted her from across the road. 

“Your mum’s here,” she said to Tara.

“Ooh!” Darcy exclaimed. “Your future stepmum, Elle!”

Tara laughed a little awkwardly and batted Darcy’s excitement away. Meanwhile, Elle blinked at her friends in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Did your dad not tell you?” asked Tara, frowning.

“Tell me what?”

“Our parents are dating. Isn’t that so cute?”

“And if they get married you’ll be sisters,” said Darcy. “So cool!”

Elle looked back to where Pauline Jones had disappeared into her car, watched her drive off down the road and out of sight. Just why had her dad failed to tell her this information? And was she really ready for a possible stepmother? She had always liked Tara’s mum well enough, but as Elle returned to lessons that afternoon, she still wasn’t entirely sure how to feel.

✨

He should have just stayed at home.

But he had coursework to hand in and the library wasn’t going to manage itself. So, Isaac ploughed on through his morning, his usual excellent focus at an all-time low due to the constant throbbing in his head. He hadn’t even been able to read much over break, he’d had to sit there and listen to Nick and Charlie moon over each other while Tao texted Elle with an equally moony look on his face. What did the majority of his classmates do with themselves all break time with no book to read?

When lunch time came, Isaac headed back to the library for his shift behind the desk. He usually had to wolf down some food during the crossing period, but today he had no appetite. He sank into his chair and logged onto the system. As he pressed enter, the bell rang overhead—and he almost jumped out of his skin.

Jesus, what was wrong with him? Why was he so on edge?

His head felt so weird… He felt the need to shake it, so he did. But the weird feeling remained along with the throbbing. Down his neck, the feeling became itchy and he twitched. He shuddered, the miserable sensation travelled down his back… but then, starting from the top of his spine, pain suddenly flared through his entire body. It wriggled downwards, his chest seized and his breath caught. 

He had sunk forward against the desk without realising. He gritted his teeth, tried to force down the groans of pain. His limbs weak, his legs shaky, he slid off the chair onto the floor. His vision swam as he tried to right himself, leaning heavily against the desk drawers.

“Isaac?” A pair of feet came into view. “Are you alright?”

He looked up, squinting through the fog, into James’ concerned face. He dropped into a crouch beside him.

At once, the pain vanished. The twitching stopped.

Isaac fell quiet and still, and for the first time that day, he felt calm. Blinking slowly, he considered his friend. Then got steadily to his feet. “James?”

“Yes, it’s me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. But I need your help.”

“Okay. What with?”

“I found my family’s grimoire.”

James’ eyes widened. “You did?”

“But I don’t want the others to know.”

“Oh, okay… Where’d you find it?”

“I was looking for a book in my mum’s stuff and found her diary. She writes all about hiding our grimoire in the woods for protection. Will you help me find it?”

“Yes!” James clapped his hands, before hushing himself to a library-appropriate volume. “Of course I’ll help. Oh my god—another grimoire! Sounds fun, I’m in.”

“It does,” said Isaac. “It does sound fun.”

So that evening after school, once they’d both gone home to change into some warmer clothes, Isaac and James set off into the woods. James shivered and bundled his coat tighter around himself. The weather had turned freezing since the beginning of October and tonight was no different. They walked for a long while the cottage was far behind them. Isaac seemed to know where he was going though he carried no map. He was, however, carrying a shovel. He stopped in the middle of a random clearing and held it out for James to take.

“Here?”

Isaac nodded and pushed the shovel into his hands. 

While James dug, Isaac stood by, phone torch held aloft—the only light other than the moon which was shrouded in clouds.

“You must have read it wrong,” James panted, wiping a hand over his brow. “There’s nothing here.” He was calf-deep in the hole he’d created, sweat and earth clinging to his skin.

“Trust me,” said Isaac. “It’s here.”

“Nope. I’m done.” James dropped the shovel. “I’m about to pass out.”

“Stop being such a pussy and dig!”

James blinked up at Isaac in astonishment. The brightness of the torch in his hand made him squint and he had to look down again. With a sigh, James grabbed the shovel and struck it into the earth at his feet. This time it caught on something other than soil.

“Oh my god!” James flung the shovel aside and threw himself down to dig with his hands. There was something there, just under the surface—something old and leathery, a deep, reddish brown. A buckle and a clasp… A suitcase. It was an old leather suitcase.

With great difficulty, James hefted the case from the earth and dumped it out onto the forest floor. “Fuck, that’s heavy! Are you sure the grimoire’s in there?”

“This is exactly what we’re looking for,” said Isaac.

✨

As much as Nick had joked that morning, he really did want Kathleen to like him. She was so poised, it was difficult to tell what she was thinking. The three of them were seated around the dining room, tucking into the delicious dinner she had prepared. 

Charlie had been a little quieter than usual all day, but Nick hadn’t minded. At lunch time, the common room had proved too crowded for him and so they’d found a quiet spot outside by the tennis courts to eat in peace. Bundled in their coats and cuddled together, it had been pretty cosy, actually. It had been nice to know that even though Charlie hadn’t felt up to company, Nick himself didn’t count. Charlie had been quite content to sit and listen to Nick chatter about his classes, rugby, the cafe, his dog, and all the new plants he wanted to add to his collection.

Charlie’d had to listen to the same topics discussed all over again as Nick told them to Kathleen, only in a much more polite manner, and skipping over any witchy or flirty business. Several minutes later, however, the three of them fell into awkward, quiet chewing, which Nick really, really hoped he hadn’t caused.

“How’s the chicken?” asked Kathleen.

“Delicious,” said Nick. “Thank you.”

“It’s really nice, thanks, gran.”

“School?”

“Fine, yeah.”

“It’s school,” said Charlie.

Kathleen chuckled. “Soon we’re going to be talking about the weather.”

As Nick cringed internally—he and Charlie never suffered from awkward silences when it was just the two of them—Charlie gave an awkward laugh and shook his head. “Sorry.”

And oh my god, his boyfriend was entirely too adorable. Sometimes it struck Nick all over again how beautiful he was—especially when Charlie laughed, but all the time, really. 

Charlie looked from Nick to Kathleen in bemusement and Nick realised he hadn’t been the only one watching him with a heightened degree of fondness.

“What?”

“The way you just wrinkled your nose—”

“It was very cute.” Nick interrupted without thinking. 

But Kathleen merely smiled. “I was going to say it was exactly like your dad.”

Charlie took a measured breath. “What was he like… at my age?”

“A lot like you,” said Kathleen. “So smart and strong-willed, funny and very cute.”

Nick grinned. “And good at everything.”

“Hmm, maybe not sport so much, your dad. He tried tennis for a bit but he was hopeless, bless him.”

“Why did he leave here?”

Charlie’s question seemed to take Kathleen by surprise. He had fallen contemplative as she and Nick sang his and his dad’s praises, but he looked up now, expression serious. 

Kathleen took a breath and considered her words carefully. “Your father kept a lot of things from me. He didn’t think I’d understand. You might feel the same way. When he was in trouble, I didn’t see the signs. If we had been closer, if he’d come to me, I could have helped. I’ll never forgive myself for not seeing his troubles sooner.”

With every word his grandmother had spoken, Charlie’s face had fallen further. Nick reached under the table and gave his knee a comforting squeeze.

“I think,” said Charlie. “You know, once dad got something in his head…”

“Ah, see,” said Kathleen, sipping her wine. “You do know him better than you think.” Charlie smiled wistfully, but Kathleen turned serious once again. “Please, don’t make the same mistake, Charlie.”

Nick felt Charlie flinch, saw him wince, then close his eyes for a moment. God, Kathleen really wasn’t making this easy for him. It wasn’t her fault, of course. She didn’t know what a guilt trip she was pulling. On the other hand, maybe she did… She was a witch herself after all, and she wasn’t stupid. Surely she had some idea what was going on with Charlie’s new group of friends.

Nick felt his phone vibrate against his leg, and a second later, Charlie took out his own phone. “It’s Isaac,” he whispered. He turned the screen around so Nick could read it, too.

ISAAC: Come to the cottage! Hurry!

“Is everything okay?” asked Kathleen, mopping her mouth with the corner of her napkin.

“Fine,” said Charlie.

“Ready for dessert?”

“Actually, um… we have to meet someone.” Charlie got to his feet. “I won’t be back late, I promise. Thanks for the dinner, gran. I really, really do appreciate it.”

Nick followed suit, still trying for polite and charming. “Thanks for having me, Mrs Spring.”

Kathleen chuckled. “My pleasure.” When neither of them moved from the doorway, she waved a dismissive hand. “Go on, go on. Have a nice evening.”

Nick and Charlie threw on coats and shoes, then hurried out to the car.

“God, that was so awkward,” said Nick, shutting his car door.

“I know,” Charlie whined, head in his hands. “I think I need to come up with some fake thing to open up to her about. Something not about witchcraft or my dad.”

“How about your amazing new boyfriend?”

Charlie laughed. “What would I even say? She does not need to know all the thoughts I have about you.”

“All good thoughts, I hope.”

“Oh yes. They range from good to fucking transcendent to way too x-rated for my poor grandmother.”

Seat belt in hand, Nick’s eyes widened. “I might be interested in hearing some of those thoughts.”

“You would?”

“Mmhm. I would love to know if they match my own about you.”

They caught each other’s gazes and Nick thought he might combust. He swore he could feel the crackle of some electric current run between them in the confined space of the car. Charlie seemed to feel it too because he swallowed thickly and took a breath. “We can revisit this conversation—after we find out what Isaac’s emergency is. Okay?”

“I can’t wait.”

✨

The light from Pauline’s car was the only beacon leading Richard to the very end of the woodland track. He parked up beside her and climbed out. He bundled his scarf tighter around his neck and moved around the side of the car, where he found her, seated at a foldout table set up on the grass verge.

“Hello, Richard.”

“Am I early? You said nine.”

“No. You’re right on time.”

He sat down in the camping chair opposite her. She reached into her coat and pulled out a bottle. “Wine?” There were two glasses on the table along with several tealights.

“No, thanks,” said Richard. “We’ve got work to do.”

“Of course. I’ve got everything set up but…” She put the wine down and reached for a box of matches. “I just need to light these candles.” He watched her lift the flame from each tealight to the next, until all four were flickering brightly. “We’ve still got fifteen minutes.” She shook out the match, a stream of smoke lifting into the air for a second before it vanished. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

Richard sighed. He glanced around, shivering. He supposed there was nothing else to do to pass the time and maybe it would help warm him up. “Fine.”

“Great.”

She poured them both a glass and they sat there, taking sips in the middle of the woods, nothing but pitch darkness on either side of them.

“You want these crystals as much as I do, right?”

“Of course I do,” said Pauline. “To get our true power back, that would mean everything.”

“Then don’t lose focus.”

✨

James had suggested they try to use magic to transport the suitcase to the cottage, but Isaac refused. 

Okay, they had never tried such a thing before but it might have been nice—since the suitcase was very heavy and the pair of them were not the most physically strong people in the world. Even so, they managed to drag the case through the woods, into the cottage where it now sat in the middle of the floor. 

James reached for the clasps.

“Don’t touch it!”

“But I thought this was what you wanted. The grimoire.”

“My mum put a spell on it to keep it safe,” said Isaac. “It won’t open until we undo it. I just need to get it started.”

James crouched down to examine the clasps closer. “These look ancient. I bet we could pry it open somehow.”

“James!” Isaac snapped. “No means no, don’t you understand?” 

“Alright, alright.” 

What had gotten into Isaac today? He was usually so measured and kind. James supposed they all had bad days, they all lashed out sometimes when they got angry or sad or tired. James had just never seen Isaac do so before.

“So, what’s the emergency?”

James turned and was relieved to see Tao and Elle step into the cottage.

“It’s a surprise,” said Isaac. “Just give me a minute.” And he disappeared into the kitchen-greenhouse.

“You tell us to hurry over here,” Tao whined. “And now you want us to wait a minute?”

“He found his grimoire,” said James.

“Another one?” Elle exclaimed. “Really? Where is it?”

James gestured to the suitcase.

“Oh my god! Then, let’s open it! What are we waiting for?” Elle pulled at the clasps but they remained firmly shut.

“There’s a spell on the lock apparently,” said James. “Did you tell the others about this?”

“Nope!” said Isaac from the other room. “Just us four.”

“But why?” asked Tao.

“You’re my best friends. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

They listened to Isaac potter about, the three of them exchanging looks of alarmed confusion. There was nothing special about the suitcase that James could see. The leather was filthy from being buried under the earth for sixteen years, though it looked to have been made long before even that.

A blast of fire suddenly flared from the kitchen-greenhouse door and they all looked up. Isaac appeared, a tree branch held aloft, alight with flames. They watched, wide-eyed as Isaac dropped the branch into a mortar and began to grind it into a concoction, the whole thing sizzling and smoking.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Nick and Charlie had arrived, hand in hand as always. “We got Isaac’s message. Is this the emergency?”

“Wait,” said James. “I thought you didn’t tell the others.”

“What the fuck is going on, Isaac?” said Tao.

Isaac set his still-smoking mortar down on the side table. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d come if you knew, but I think we need the entire coven for the spell to work.”

The others frowned at each other. 

“Why does he think we wouldn’t come if we knew that?” Nick murmured.

Charlie shrugged. None of the others had an answer for that, either. He and Nick moved to join the others around the suitcase. “Are we trying to open that?”

“What’s in there?”

“Isaac’s grimoire,” said Elle.

“Really?” Charlie reached down for the clasps. A second before his fingers could touch metal— 

“Why is everyone in such a rush to open the fucking case?” 

Silence.

Charlie stepped away to Nick’s side, slid an arm around him.

“Um,” said Nick. “Isaac, are you okay?”

Isaac’s shoulders relaxed and his face fell, ashamed. His cheek twitched.

“Why don’t I check and see where Tara and Darcy are?” said Charlie, taking out his phone. 

“Tell them to hurry,” said Isaac. He turned back to his mortar, which had thankfully stopped smoking, and began to stir it feverishly. “They haven’t been responding to my messages.”

Just then, the leather top of the suitcase rippled.

Tao grabbed Elle’s hand and Nick and Charlie held onto each other a little tighter.

“Did you see that?” James gasped.

“See what?” said Isaac, not looking away from his potion.

“The suitcase just fucking moved,” said Tao.

Isaac gave a little chuckle. “Suitcases don’t move.”

“Well, this one just did.” Elle stepped forward, her face set. She reached out a hand towards the top of the case. Tao clung to her, horrified. She gave the leather a tiny jab with her finger—and the thing inside rippled once again. Like there was something moving inside it. Something alive. All five of them leapt away even further. 

“It moved again!”

“Oh my god,” James cried. “What the fuck?”

Isaac whirled around to glare at them all. “Just stay away from it! I keep telling you!”

The others stared at Isaac, but Charlie couldn’t look away from the case. The second time it had moved, he could have sworn he’d heard a hiss . He tried to push Nick behind himself, but at the same time, Nick tried to do the same to him. The pair of them ended up in a kind of stalemate.

“Isaac,” said Charlie. “What’s in the suitcase?”

Isaac looked down at his feet for a moment, sheepish. Then he raised his head again, looking up at them all from beneath his eyelashes in an unsettling mockery of sweetness. “You’ll see,” he said.

And then he smiled, ultra-innocently. And Charlie’s heart jolted. Something moved, snake-like across Isaac’s forehead, under his skin. It disappeared quickly under his hair but from the mingled gasps around him, Charlie knew he wasn’t alone in noticing it. Isaac, seemingly unaware that anything utterly terrifying had just happened, turned back to his mortar and pestle and continued to mix.

Nick tugged on Charlie’s arm to get him to move. He stumbled after him, the others following closely to gather in the entrance way, voices dropped in a whispered but panicked discussion.

“What the fuck was that thing in his face?” Tao hissed.

“I think it was the same thing that was in Hazel,” said Charlie.

Nick swallowed. “A demon?”

“That’s what she said it was,” said Charlie. “But I’ve never seen a demon before. Do they look like little snakes slithering around inside people?”

Nick nodded grimly. “I think so. The book Tara and Darcy found said snakes or insects are often used as vessels.”

“Gross,” James murmured.

“Wait a minute, are you saying Isaac is possessed?” said Elle. “By a demon?”

“Oh god,” said Tao, letting go of Elle to pace, hands in his hair. “What are we gonna do? We have to get that thing out of him.”

“How, though?” said Charlie, trying not to panic. “My dad couldn’t help Hazel other than to put her in a sixteen-year-long coma, and we don’t know half the magic he did.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Tao, whirling around at Charlie. “We need to figure it out.” 

At the same time, Charlie and Elle moved forward to put a comforting arm around Tao. Charlie let Elle take the lead but patted his friend on the shoulder anyway. “I know, I know… but how?”

“I don’t know!” Tao burst away from Elle to resume his pacing. Charlie half wanted to join him—surely there was something they could do—other than standing around panicking. But there was no time for further discussion because then a shout from outside reached their ears.

“Guys? What’s going on?” Darcy stepped through the front door, into the entrance way, closely followed by Tara. “Why are we standing around in here?”

Before any of them could explain, James turned and ran back into the main room.

There was only enough time for Charlie and the others to hurry after him, but not enough to ask him what the fuck he was doing. Isaac’s back was to them, still standing over his potion on the side table. James reached for one of the heaviest books strewn across the coffee table, raised it high, then struck Isaac across the back of the head with it.

Isaac fell like a stone, knocked out cold.

The coven stopped short, staring. The resulting silence rang in the air.

“What the actual fuck?” Darcy exclaimed. “What the fuck?!”

James lowered the book, his hair sticking up at all angles, his face flushed and sweaty. “It’s not what you think.”

“Not even remotely,” said Elle.

“I’m sorry!” James cried. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done that—”

“Maybe at least tell us what you’re gonna do before you do something like that,” said Tao. “Jesus.”

“Yeah, sorry…”

Tao continued to grumble about James’ reckless actions as together, they lifted Isaac onto a sofa. Once he was no longer sprawled uncomfortably on the floor, Charlie felt marginally better. He adjusted a cushion under his head, then looked up to see Elle had found some rope and was using it to bind Isaac’s wrists.

Charlie had to step away. He reached for Nick and found him by the suitcase with Tara and Darcy. From their now appropriately panicked expressions, Charlie assumed Nick had explained the situation to them.

“So what’s really in the suitcase?” asked Darcy.

“Well,” said Charlie. “Isaac said it was his grimoire, but I’m guessing it’s not that.”

Isaac woke with a violent start and a strangled cry. Tao, Elle and James leapt away from where they’d been crouched around him. All of them stared as Isaac began to writhe against his binds, snarling deep in his throat.

“Get him back down!” Elle cried.

Charlie hovered at the back with Tara and Darcy as Nick hurried to join the others in their effort.

“Let go of me!” Isaac flailed this way and that, his limbs jerking and spasming. With all of them terrified and unwilling to hurt him more than they already had, it was all they could do to keep a hold of him. Until, after several exhausting minutes, Isaac fell still, silent and unconscious once again.

Slowly, Nick, Tao, Elle and James retracted their hands. Isaac didn’t stir, didn’t wake. He looked as if he could be sleeping.

“What just happened?” Tara whispered.

“I don’t think it’s over,” said Charlie. “This happened with Hazel, too.”

They watched with bated breath, ready to spring back into action. Charlie stayed by Nick, a hand on his shoulder, ready to pull him away at the first sign of danger. Nick glanced up at him, face full of fearful worry. Charlie sank into a crouch beside him and wrapped his arm closer around him.

When Isaac opened his eyes again, he did so gradually, sleepily, as if he really had just been taking a nap. He blinked up at them all, eyes adjusting to the light. Tao leaned forward. “Isaac?”

“Ow, my head.” He pushed himself into a sitting position. “What happened? What’s going on? Why are you all staring at me like that?”

“Are you okay?” asked Elle.

“I—I can’t feel my hands.” Wincing, Isaac looked down at his wrists. “These ropes are cutting into me.”

Nick reached forwards at once.

“Don’t!” Charlie pulled him back. “It’s… it’s not him.”

“What? Of course it is!”

“Or,” said Darcy. “It’s pretending.”

Isaac’s lip trembled. “Nick. Don’t listen to them.” He held out his wrists. “I’m in pain.” 

Charlie tightened his grip around the fabric of Nick’s coat. He wanted him to be right. Obviously, he did. But his heart continued to pound as Nick inched forwards again. Charlie looked into Isaac’s face and tried to detect any evidential proof that this was their Isaac speaking to them, calling out to Nick for help. Or was this a demon? Something evil but cunning that had finally learned enough to mimic Isaac effectively?

Before Nick’s fingers could brush the ropes, he seemed to have the same thought and—turned away. He wrapped his arms around Charlie and leaned into him, like he was both an anchor and a comfort blanket.

Like the flick of a switch, Isaac changed. “You fucking—worthless—useless—” His words morphed into another animalistic growl. He began to wriggle and squirm once again, his limbs twitching in all directions. Nick fell deeper into Charlie while Tara and Darcy darted forward to help the others.

“What are we gonna do?” Tara cried. “He’s going to hurt himself.”

“We can’t just keep him tied up forever,” said James.

“I c-could look in my grimoire,” said Tara. “But this is nothing like what I’ve seen in there, and we don’t know nearly enough to try stuff like this. It was dangerous enough with Hazel, but with Isaac—”

“I know what to do.”

Nick lifted his head to stare at Charlie in surprise.

“What?” Tao cried. “What is it?”

Charlie swallowed and hoped he was making the right decision. “You have to trust me.”

“We do,” said Nick.

The others nodded. Charlie stepped away from Nick, squeezed his hands, kissed him quickly. “I’ll be right back.” And then he turned and ran out of the cottage.

✨

The four tea lights flickered in the darkness, their reflections rippling in the two half-empty glasses of wine. The crystal was set in the centre of the candles atop a paper map of the Medway area.

“It’s time,” said Pauline, referencing the stars rather than the watch on her wrist.

“Let’s do it,” said Richard.

They reached out and took each other's hands around the burning candles.

“This crystal,” said Pauline. “Will absorb the moon’s light, refract it onto the map and identify the others' locations in relation to its own. Eight crystals once joined together as one, are still connected even as they are apart.”

She gave Richard a curt nod. He took a deep breath and joined her in the required chant. Quickly, power began to sparkle between the candles, reflecting off the crystal’s glass-like quality. Another three repetitions and, despite their differences, Richard and Pauline shared in their thrill of excitement as the air crackled with magic and grins formed on their faces.

After the fourth repetition, the sparkles fizzled out.

Richard’s face fell.

He picked up the crystal. “Fuck. There’s not enough power.”

“Let’s try again?”

Richard shook his head. “The crystal’s dead. We used it too often.”

“Just give me your hands, come on.”

“Don’t you get it, Pauline? It’s done.” He got to his feet. “We waited a year for this blood moon.”

Pauline sighed. “Well, at least the coven is bound.”

“But without seven more of these crystals the coven can’t restore our power.”

“Look, I’ll find another way.” She reached to pat him on the shoulder but he shook her off.

“No,” he said. “I was an idiot to think you could help me.” He got to his feet and strode back to his car, fuming with himself and her alike.

✨

Through the darkened woods, back across town and along Britannia Road, Charlie didn’t slow down. He burst through his front door and into the kitchen. “Gran?”

Kathleen looked up from her laptop at the kitchen table, a glass of wine on the go. “Are you alright?”

“You said you can help me,” Charlie gasped. “You said I can trust you. With anything.”

“Of course you can. Slow down, catch your breath.”

“There’s no time. We’re in trouble.”

“Who is? Tell me what’s wrong.”

Charlie took a deep, steadying breath and looked his grandmother dead in the eye. “I know who I am, who you are, who dad was. I’m a witch. And I need your help.”

Chapter Text

chapter ten: the name you used

Once they realised Isaac was not going to flail himself off the sofa, nor out of the ropes binding his wrist, Nick and the others backed off a little. There really wasn’t much they could do. Nick hoped Charlie’s plan, whatever it was, worked. And that it would bring him back to his side as soon as possible. Without him there to hang onto, he felt distinctly unmoored and a whole lot less protected. Tao had gone back to pacing. James sat with his back to the sofa where Isaac lay, ready to spring back into action when needed. Tara and Darcy whispered in their own little huddle while Elle kept glancing between Isaac and the suitcase.

Nick scrubbed a hand through his hair and stepped closer to the suitcase. It moved again. The leather rippled, just as it had before. Nick froze. Elle froze. “Was that a hiss?”

A distinctive hissing noise had definitely come from whatever was inside. Tao stopped his pacing and Tara and Darcy looked up from their huddle. Nick could feel his heart in his throat, but no more movement came, no more hissing. But they hadn’t all imagined it.

Someone cleared their throat.

Everyone looked around.

Isaac had gotten to his feet. His hands were somehow free from their binds. With incredible speed, Isaac charged at James. Shrieking, he pushed James across the room with so much force, James soared before he hit the wall with a crash, then slid to the floor into a heap.

Nick was suddenly very glad he hadn’t been there to see Hazel do that to Charlie. His nightmares were already enough of a struggle.

Isaac strode forward. He snatched up a pair of scissors and opened them with a shing . At James’ side, he reached to draw him upright. James was still conscious but clearly dizzy from where his head had struck the wall. Isaac held him against it, and pressed the blade to James’ throat.

“Do as I say,” said Isaac. “Or I will cut his throat!”

The others stood utterly still, staring from Isaac to each other.

“Isaac!” James pleaded. “Don’t do this!”

A glint of something had appeared in Isaac’s usually kind eyes. Something unfeeling and evil . Like he really, really wanted to plunge the scissors into James’ skin but was having to hold himself back.

“Please,” James gasped. “Come on, Isaac. Fight it. Please, I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me.”

“Yes,” Isaac spat. “And I’m telling you to shut the fuck up !”

He pressed the blade closer—then swiped it sideways. Blood dribbled forth, a red line beaded across James’ throat. His cry was almost drowned out by the screams of his coven.

“Stop!” Nick started forward, but stopped himself. How were they meant to fight Isaac?

“Come on,” said Elle. “There are five of us, we can—”

“What?” Tara gasped.

“We’re not doing what he said,” said Elle.

“Elle, no,” said Darcy. “We could still hurt Isaac.”

With an air of determination, Elle turned to Isaac. He had moved the scissors away to hover over James’ chest, his other arm still pinning him to the wall. James was pale, tears streaming down his cheeks as he breathed through the pain.

“Focus on the scissors,” Elle instructed.

Nick understood at once. But as he and his coven focused, it felt like there was something missing. Charlie. When Charlie was there, Nick’s magic felt one thousand times more reliable, one thousand times nicer. 

But still, the coven focused harder and harder, picking up each other's power and channelling it into the same thought, the same goal. Until the scissors in Isaac’s hand began to burn, so hot they glowed red. Isaac growled low in his throat, but he didn’t drop the weapon. Instead, he kicked James feet from under him and the two of them toppled sideways together onto the floor. James landed on his back, Isaac over him, the blade pressed firmly to his throat once again.

“Any other magic tricks you want to try?” Isaac hissed. “No? My turn, then. Elle! Use that ash to make a circle around the case.”

None of them moved.

“Please,” James gasped. “Just do it.”

Elle blinked out of her shock, then went to the side table where Isaac had left his mortar. She picked it up and began to do as she’d been told.

“Now,” said Isaac when she was done. “Say the incantation with me: Incipio serpus malum .”

A much louder hiss emanated from the case and they all jumped back in fright.

“Say it,” Isaac cried.

Nick glanced at Tara, hoping she would have something, anything she remembered from her book. But she merely shook her head, eyes wide with fear. Reluctantly, but having no choice, Nick, Tao, Elle, Tara and Darcy began to chant the unfamiliar words… “Incipio serpus balum…” On the second repetition, Isaac joined them and then they were all chanting over and over and over. The words seemed to merge into one on Nick’s tongue, making his head swim. His stomach turned over. This spell… it felt wrong. Bad. More than just because Charlie wasn’t there, though that didn’t help matters. This was a demon, Nick reminded himself. Not Isaac. Not good.

Finally, after Nick had lost count of the number of repetitions, the worn leather straps of the case moved upwards, the metal clasps clicked and fell aside. The lid popped open, revealing a slither of a gap, beyond which, Nick saw only darkness.

Maybe it was for the best Charlie wasn’t there. He would be safe from whatever horrors were about to spill forth… but then Charlie burst into the cottage, a little sweaty and red in the face. “I brought help!”

After Charlie, in stepped Kathleen, her expression serious but calm. Nick was glad she hadn’t looked like that during their dinner—he would never have been able to get a word out in favour of himself. He and the others watched her cautiously as she approached the hissing case. Tara didn’t look exactly pleased that someone outside of the coven had been called to help but there was nothing she could say. They did need help. They were in way over their heads.

Nick watched Charlie take in the fact that the case was now open, and the fact that Isaac had James pinned to the floor—and the blood soaking James’ jumper. Nick reached out a hand for him, for something they could both hold onto, but he stayed behind his grandmother.

“Get back,” said Kathleen, batting her hands at them.

The five of them shuffled quickly away from the case again. Nick edged a little closer to Charlie and managed to take his hand. Charlie gave it a grateful squeeze.

“You’re too late!” Isaac snarled.

Kathleen whispered a complicated phrase, a spell—and the case snapped shut again, the clasps clicked closed. Nick and Charlie exchanged looks of alarm—Kathleen’s magic was so… perfect. She clearly had massive control, as well as knowledge and skill. She had been doing this a long time.

“Repeat the spell!” yelled Isaac.

“No,” said Kathleen before the others could move.

Isaac lifted the scissors high above his head, blades pointing down over James’ chest. “Then his blood will be on your hands.” 

James screwed his eyes shut tight. Before any of them could do so much as move or shout, the scissors yanked themselves from Isaac’s fist and flew across the room to clatter against the floorboards.

Isaac and the others stared. Kathleen had neither moved nor spoken, just fixed Isaac with that intense stare.

“You bitch,” Isaac spat. He clambered to his feet. 

Finally, James was free to scramble to the nearest sofa where he collapsed onto the cushions. Tara and Darcy hurried to his side, but he only batted their hands away. 

Isaac moved closer to Kathleen. “You don’t have the power to stop me, old woman.”

“I’m not alone here,” she said, quite calmly.

“What? Them?” Isaac scoffed. “They’re nothing.”

“I didn’t mean the children.” She slipped her hand into her coat pocket and drew out a piece of glass—no, it was a crystal, Nick realised. It was polished so smoothly that it had very reflective qualities. It was small enough to fit nicely in Kathleen’s palm. She lifted it higher—and Isaac began to spasm and twitch, as he had before, as if the crystal were causing him—or the demon inside him—physical pain.

“Get—away—from me.” Isaac clutched at his arms, at his very skin. 

Nick suddenly imagined how it might feel to have a tiny snake demon slithering about inside him and shuddered.

“Charlie,” said Kathleen. “Get my bag, please.”

Charlie blinked out of his shock at watching Isaac in so much pain, of James lying on the sofa, pale and bleeding. He gave Nick’s arm a comforting pat, then darted quickly out into the entrance way. He returned a second later with Kathleen’s bag. It was just an ordinary large tote bag with a floral pattern but from the way Charlie was carrying it, it looked heavy.

“You two,” said Kathleen to Tao and Elle. “Break that circle. And hurry.”

At once, Tao and Elle moved forward to swipe away the circle of ash Isaac had had Elle create around the suitcase. Isaac’s knees buckled from under him and he sank to the floor. He used the wall to hold himself up the best he could as his body jerked and twitched.

“Now,” said Kathleen. “Charlie, take three candles from the bag. Place them around the case and light them clockwise.”

Charlie did as he was told while Nick grabbed the matches. It was an effort not to let his hands shake as he struck the match. Only with Charlie’s hand over his wrist did he manage to keep one alight long enough to lower it over each of the three candles.

“Now the sage,” said Kathleen. “Burn some in each candle.”

“On the windowsill,” said Nick to Darcy who was closest. They reached for the little pot and brought it over to the candles.

“Hurry up! We don’t have much time.”

Darcy’s face was almost as pale as James’ as they sprinkled the sage into the melted wax which had pooled quickly in the top of each candle.

“Good,” said Kathleen. “Now, if you can get Isaac onto his feet…”

Tao and Elle approached him with caution and grasped Isaac’s right arm. Tara and Darcy took up the left and together, the four of them hauled Isaac to his feet. Sweat had beaded at his hairline. Nick had thought the twitching had stopped but as soon as he was on his feet, he began to struggle so violently that Nick wasn’t sure what was causing it—Isaac or the demon. Possibly a mixture of both.

“Stop it!” Isaac cried. “What’s going on?”

Again, it was hard to tell who they were speaking to. Who was pleading with them for freedom.

“I know you’re in there,” came a desperate whisper from the sofa. James had edged forward into a sitting position. He looked into Isaac’s tortured face the best he could. “I saw you in there. Come back, please.”

“Charlie,” said Kathleen. “Get the staff from my bag—and there’s a vial labelled consecrated water.”

Nick held out his hands to take the bag so Charlie could dig around more thoroughly. He extracted the vial with ease, then a length of wood which he frowned at. “Is this the staff?”

Kathleen nodded. Nick and Charlie shrugged—it looked like just an ordinary plank of wood, no markings or special features that they could see. Kathleen took the vial, then stepped forward to pour the contents over Isaac’s forehead. Tao and Darcy held his head in place so it only dripped a little bit. 

Kathleen turned back to Charlie. “Light it.”

Nick set the bag down on the floor and grabbed the matches again. Charlie held the staff over the flame and when Kathleen gestured to hand it over, he did so, careful not to catch anything else alight. He seemed relieved when it was out of his hands, and to be honest, so was Nick.

Kathleen waved the staff near to Isaac’s face and he cringed away from it. “No! Stop it, stop it!” She moved the staff down, then up again, sweeping the entire height of his body. “Help me!” Isaac sobbed. He met Nick’s eye, then Charlie’s. “Please!”

There was a moment of quiet as Kathleen studied Isaac, frowning. She moved the flaming staff away. “He’s not possessed,” she said. “Let him go.”

The gathered coven froze, staring at Isaac, now hanging limply between his four friends. “Possessed?” he gasped. “What are you talking about?”

“Isaac?” Tao whispered. “Is that you?”

“Of course it’s me! I don’t understand what…”

“Oh, thank god!” Tara cried. And that was the cue for the four of them to let Isaac go only to bundle him into a hug instead. Isaac swayed slightly but let his friends hold him up. He patted their backs, still confused but ultimately pleased.

Kathleen did not look as relieved. “The demon has gone from Isaac,” she said. “But it still needs a host.” She glanced between the friends huddled around Isaac, to James on the sofa, to Nick and Charlie hanging onto each other by the door. “Which means it’s in someone else now. Someone in this room.”

Nick’s stomach dropped. The group hug around Isaac broke, but Nick and Charlie only clung on even tighter.

“How’d you know it isn’t one of you?” Tao exclaimed.

Nick looked at Charlie and realised neither of them had for a moment doubted each others’ safety. Maybe that wasn’t the smartest instinct—not in this situation anyway—but, Nick thought he would be able to tell. He would be able to feel it if Charlie were possessed.

But would he be able to tell if he, Nick, was?

Nick dropped Charlie’s hand and stepped away from him. Charlie swallowed and retracted his hands into the sleeves of his coat.

“It could be anyone,” said Darcy, watching Tara from a distance. Tao looked as if he were itching to begin pacing again. Elle was still apparently deep in thought.

Nick didn’t think he could handle going through all they just had again—not with any of the people in this room. He supposed he might actually prefer to be the possessed one himself… But then he looked at the state of James’ jumper and remembered what Isaac had been made to do. What might Nick be made to do? Stab one of his friends? Stab himself? Stab Charlie? His stomach turned over again and he thought he might be sick.

Isaac looked a little less disoriented—from the conversation, he had figured out what was happening. But the exhaustion caught up with him then, and Tara and Darcy grabbed him before he could collapse. They guided him to the other end of the sofa where James still sat, slumped. Whether or not Isaac noticed the blood coating his friend’s front, he didn’t let on because a second later, his eyes were closed and he was fast asleep. Tara drew a blanket over him and stroked his sweaty hair. 

The suitcase gave a hiss. None of them even looked around. There were much more pressing issues to deal with.

Kathleen lifted her crystal aloft and held it out towards Charlie. She waited a few seconds for something to happen. But nothing did. Then it was Nick’s turn—and he could feel his heart beating hard against his ribs. But then Kathleen moved on. And on and on. From Nick to Elle to Tao to Darcy to Tara to James—

With none of the energy he had shown before his stabbing, or perhaps ever in his life, James burst up from the sofa. A now-familiar animalistic snarl escaped his throat. A tiny snake demon slithered across his forehead—and then he charged. Right at Charlie.

Nick sprang between them. 

“ Nick! ” 

James went down in the perfect rugby tackle. The only difference to Nick’s training was that once they went sprawling to the floor, he did not relent. He kept his legs squeezed around James’ thighs and put the rest of his weight into pinning his arms to the floor.

Charlie was at Nick’s side in a heartbeat, terror and attraction mingled across his face. “Whoa,” he gasped. “Good job, babe, but also, please don’t do that again.”

There was a soft clunking of metal on leather. Each of them turned, Nick with some difficulty, but still he saw it. The suitcase had popped open once again, wide enough this time for them to see what was inside.

Snakes. Black and writhing over each other—so many there was no way of counting.

The shouts of horror from his friends barely permeated Nick’s brain. He looked away from the case of nightmares and was glad to see Charlie had done so, too. In his gaze was nothing but safety and warmth, the opposite of a nightmare.

Kathleen reached for the side table and hefted it with ease. She let it fall on top of the case, forcing it closed once again. 

Sensing Nick’s distraction, James pushed out with all his demonic strength and shoved at his shoulders. Nick flew upwards and was heading for the ceiling when— “NO!” —everything stopped. 

He blinked down at the floor. It was only a few metres below him but there he was… suspended in midair. And then he was turning. It felt like some soft, invisible cloud was gently rotating him until he was facing upwards instead. Then slowly he was lowered down, down into Charlie’s arms. He blinked up at him in astonishment.

The moment James had shoved Nick, Charlie had thrown his hands out. There had been no need to think, to focus or to channel. His magic had found Nick’s as easy as breathing.

“Thank you,” Nick whispered.

The adrenaline left Charlie then and he merely grimaced. He leaned his forehead to rest against Nick’s and held him tight. Nick sat up and hugged him back. Over his shoulder, Nick realised James had vanished.

“Is he gone?”

“Yes,” said Kathleen. “Ran right out the door. The demon will push him to his limits before his body tires so we need to be fast.”

She repeated her locking spell and the clasps of the suitcase fastened once again. She lifted the side table from atop it and stepped back. Charlie got to his feet, then held out a hand to help Nick up.

The others gathered around Isaac, who was still asleep on the sofa. They were whispering among themselves, brows furrowed and arms around each other in their new-found security.

Kathleen continued to speak calmly as she instructed Nick and Charlie to gather a blanket from the sofa and lay it on the floor. “Do you have any lighter fluid?” she asked.

Nick located some and handed it over. She then instructed them to lift the suitcase very, very (very) carefully onto the blanket.

“The only ways to destroy a demon are to either drown it or burn it,” Kathleen explained. “We’d best do this outside.” She grabbed the matches and followed along as Nick and Charlie carried the case on the blanket out of the cottage.

It was dark apart from the moon, the stars, and the low light coming from inside the cottage. The wind was chilly breath down their backs as they set the case gently down. The second it hit the ground, a much louder hiss emanated from inside and Nick took Charlie’s hand once again.

“Take these.” Kathleen handed Charlie the matches, then drizzled lighter fluid over the case. The hissing stopped at once.

Charlie had to drop Nick’s hand to light a match, but he did so with a much steadier hand than Nick had. He watched the end burn for a moment, then dropped it onto the case. It ignited immediately, the flames billowing in the wind.

“Stay back,” said Kathleen.

They didn’t need to be told twice. Their hands found each other again and Charlie swiped a wrist across his own forehead. He was trembling, Nick assumed from the cold, but then he heard it too. The horrible, nightmare-ish screeches of the demons inside the case as they burned.

“Now what?” said Darcy when the three of them had left the case of snakes to burn out and returned inside.

“We need to find James, obviously,” said Elle. “Before he hurts someone.”

“I’ll call his aunt,” said Tao. “And tell her to call if he shows up at home.” He moved aside to make the call and Elle followed him closely.

“What is he trying to do, though?” asked Charlie. “I mean, what does it want?”

“Possession,” said Kathleen. “Demons need human forms to be fully active, and there’s no more powerful form than a witch.”

A sudden buzzing from Nick’s hoodie pocket made him jump. He took out his phone. At the sight of the caller ID, his heart plummeted.

“What is it?” Charlie breathed.

“It’s—it’s James.”

He jabbed the loudspeaker button and answered the call.

“Nick,” came James’ voice. He sounded normal. Just like his silly, lovable cousin James. “I’m going to need you to bring me the suitcase to Nellie’s. If you don’t I’m going to burn this place to the ground. You can check, but I’m pretty sure your mum’s inside.”

“I’ll go,” said Kathleen, collecting up her bag. “I’ll do it. The rest of you need to stay here and stay safe.”

“I’m coming with you,” said Charlie.

Nick and Kathleen both spoke at the same time. “No.” 

“Yes,” said Charlie. “You’re going to need help, gran.”

Kathleen grimaced but knew there was no stopping him. Nick knew this, too, as much as he hated it. But also, he knew they were stronger together. And they would need that if they were to save not just his mum, but their family livelihood. He gripped Charlie’s hand. “Then I’m coming, too.”

✨

After such a drastic and utter failure that evening, Richard had needed a pick-me-up. He had stopped off in town for a drink but as soon as he approached his favourite pub, he realised he couldn’t stand it tonight. Not the mundane chatter of the mundane patrons beyond its walls, laughing and celebrating another day of work done and dusted. Sometimes Richard could trick himself into believing he was one of them and he often did, but tonight he had rarely felt so separate.

Instead, he wandered up the road, the night-time peaceful and the autumn air brisk. He passed Nellie’s Tea Room, expecting it to be closed, but instead saw a light on inside. Sarah was stacking chairs onto the tables as she cleaned up. Despite his differences with Sarah Nelson, he liked the business she had created. Their baked goods were always excellent and their coffee and tea great, too.

Out of the shadows at the end of the room, a boy appeared, approaching the door of the tea room. The light from inside illuminated his face. Richard always felt so sad whenever he saw the McEwan boy. As much as his friends had lost a lot, he had been the only infant child to have lost both his parents in the barn fire tragedy.

James was about to push his way inside the cafe when he noticed Richard and stopped in his tracks. “Hello, Richard.”

“Hello, James.” Richard raised his eyebrows. “That’s Mr Argent to you.”

James smirked. It didn’t seem completely natural somehow. He had always been such a sunshiney boy despite it all. “James isn’t here anymore.”

“And who are you?”

“I believe the name you used when you helped summon me was…”

Richard stared. “Abbadon.” In the boy’s face, he recognised the cold, dangerous glint in his eyes, inhuman and cruel.

“We meet again.” James’ voice had been corrupted into a deep rasp. The demon was no longer hiding, no longer pretending.

“Oh my god,” Richard gasped.

“We have unfinished business.”

“What do you want?”

“I’ve come to do what I always meant to. I want the coven.”

“No,” said Richard. “Leave the children alone.”

“They’re coming here now,” said Abbadon. “For James.” The demon let out a cold, cruel laugh. “I need a new body. Yours will do just fine.”

Richard glanced up and down the road. There were still people out and about, walking home from the pub with their families, bundled in their coats. “Not here,” he said. 

As discreetly as he could, Richard slipped his hand into his pocket and speed-dialled Pauline. He took the phone out but held it at his side, hoping Pauline would hear all she needed. “Let’s go somewhere private. How about the pier? Nobody will hear us there. We can talk this over. No one else needs to be killed.”

At as brisk a pace as he could manage, Richard led James down the high street towards the bridge beyond which the pier sat. They came to the concrete wall and Richard glanced down at the narrow stretch of muddy beach between the wall and the river. The demon had followed along closely, not taking its eyes off him for a second.

“Do whatever you want to me,” said Richard. “Just please leave the coven alone.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” said Abbadon. “I only want what you want. The coven, their power.”

“They’re not strong. They don’t know what they’re doing.”

Abbadon chuckled. “They’re strong enough.”

Pauline arrived suddenly, silently, out of the darkness. She swung back her fist and punched James so hard he was knocked over onto the pavement, unconscious. 

“Jesus, Pauline!” Richard gasped.

She shook out her fist and looked down anxiously at the boy she’d just knocked out cold. “What now?”

“You know what we have to do.”

Pauline shook her head.

“The crystal has no energy,” said Richard. “And without that power there’s nothing else we can do. We have to drown it.”

“For god’s sake…”

“It was coming for the children, Pauline. All of them. We don’t have a choice. I know it’s a huge risk, but drowning the demon is the only way to save James.”

On the ground, James let out a groan.

“Come on,” said Richard. They reached down and began to drag James, with some difficulty, over the low concrete wall and onto the narrow, wet beach. At the water’s edge, they exchanged a look and a nod of grim determination.

As Pauline dragged James further into the river, Richard couldn’t bring himself to follow any further. He stood back on the beach as Pauline lowered the boy into the water, her hands fisted in his blood-soaked jumper. He looked so young, the moonlight bathing his face stark white against the blackness of the river. The moment before his face could be submerged completely, James opened his eyes. 

“Ms Jones?” His green eyes blinked up at her, wide and terrified. “What are you doing?” He reached up with trembling hands and pushed at her arms. “What are you doing? Stop!”

“It’s not James,” Richard called.

“Stop it!” James cried. “Please!” The boy’s voice broke and he let out a terrified sob. He pushed and pushed at Pauline. She kept a firm grip on him but she stopped, frozen.

“Don’t listen to it!” Richard yelled. “Keep your head!”

He hadn’t been sure she could even hear him, what with the wind off the water, but then she shoved down with all her might. James disappeared under the water and she held him there, even as he flailed and struggled. 

It didn’t take long for his energy to deplete.

But Abbadon was an entirely different beast. 

He burst forth, sending Pauline sprawling sideways with a tremendous splash. An animalistic cry wrenched from James’ throat. Pauline regained her footing, and flung herself onto the demon again. She grasped him by the front of his jumper, and a lot less gently than before, plummeted him back under the water.

This time it took. Pauline kept her hold, pushing down until both James and Abbadon fell still. Much stiller than before. Until the bubbles drifting from his slackened mouth disappeared. 

She let go. And seventeen-year-old James McEwan floated to the surface.

By the time his body was found, demon-free but cold and lifeless on the riverbank, Richard and Pauline were nowhere to be found. Instead, they were sitting in stunned silence in Pauline’s car, parked on a dark side road.

“We killed a boy tonight,” said Pauline.

“We killed a demon,” said Richard. “And think of who we saved.” He swallowed. Sniffed. “It was the right thing to do.”

“There’s nothing right about—about that,” said Pauline. “I killed a boy, a child—that’s something that should never, ever feel right.”

✨

“He’s gone. James is dead.”

The words were met with silence over the line. A moment later, Tao hung up. 

Charlie let his phone fall limp in his hand and sank onto the bench beside Nick. 

Twenty minutes ago they had made it to the tea room only to find it empty, dark and closed. The three of them had set off in search of James, had approached the pier just in time to hear a scuffle down on the bank. But when they’d gotten closer, there had only been James. Soaked to the skin, pale and motionless. 

Things had become a bit of a blur after that. Kathleen had pushed Nick and Charlie away as soon as she’d realised what had happened. They had been ushered onto the very bench they sat on now. Neither of them felt the need to leave it. 

Ringing Tao to tell him the news was possibly the hardest thing Charlie had ever done, but at the same time, he felt like he owed it to him. Like maybe if Charlie had done something different, had gotten Kathleen’s help quicker, had been better, done better, then maybe James would still be alive.

Nick and Charlie watched the police come and go, watched an ambulance take James’ body away. They sat in stunned silence, leaning against each other. 

After a long while, Kathleen reappeared. “They’re saying he hit his head when he fell in. At least that’s what the police think. They’re calling it an accident.”

“So he drowned?” Charlie asked.

Kathleen perched on his other side and gave a grim nod.

“Maybe he was trying to get the demon out himself,” said Nick. Charlie sank closer into him. It was the first time Nick had spoken since they’d found the body. “James always had it worse than any of us. With both parents gone.”

“I know.” Charlie’s voice wavered. “It’s not fair, and I—I should have—I should have told you about the coven sooner, gran. If I had, then maybe… maybe James would still be…”

Nick opened his mouth to protest but Kathleen got there first. “It isn’t your fault, Charlie. None of it. There have been too many secrets between the generations for too long. I don’t want it to be like that for us.”

Nick and Charlie both nodded. Kathleen patted Charlie’s hand. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you both home to bed. We can face the rest of the world again in the morning.”

It felt odd to just climb into his grandmother’s car after the evening they had just endured. Sat together in the back seat, Nick and Charlie remained quiet until they arrived outside Nick’s house and Nick realised he was now expected to let go of Charlie’s hand and go inside alone. “Um… Can you… Do you want to stay over?”

Charlie hadn’t considered this either. “Gran, please may I go with Nick?”

She gave them both a sad look in the rearview mirror. “Of course you may. I understand wanting to stay close after tonight.” She managed a tiny smile in Nick’s direction. “Don’t worry, Nick. I know you don’t need my approval but you have it. You’re good together, I can tell.”

“Th-thank you,” said Nick. “And thanks for the lift. Goodnight.”

Charlie followed him out of the car and was about to take his hand again when something made him turn back. Kathleen rolled down the window. “Gran?” he said. “What happened… on the night of the barn fire? Why did my dad run away from here? From you?”

Kathleen let out a gentle sigh. “I wish I knew, but I’m afraid I never have.”

“I miss him,” said Charlie. “Every day.”

“So do I.”

Charlie glanced at where Nick was standing halfway up the front path, waiting for him. “What good is magic if you can’t save the people you care about?”

“I wish it was that simple,” said Kathleen. “Ours is not an easy life, Charlie, and witchcraft has never been about fun and games. It’s dangerous and it attracts darkness. That’s why your dad was trying to keep it from you. Why I tried to keep it from him.”

“Yeah, well, that didn’t work.”

“No. It didn’t. Never does.” She reached out the window and touched his cheek, his shoulder. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Charlie. I promise.”

Charlie wanted to believe her, but at the same time it wasn’t himself he was worried about. He followed Nick into the house and heard his grandmother drive away. In the dim light of the hall, they both felt numb. They slipped off their coats and kicked their shoes onto the rack. The house was dark and quiet. Nick poked his head into the living room. “I think my mum’s already in bed.”

“Want to go and check?”

Nick looked at him in surprise, then nodded. Together, they climbed the stairs, the exhaustion of the day catching up with them the closer they got to tomorrow. Charlie hung back in the hall as Nick peered around his mum’s bedroom door. He stood there for several moments, just watching her sleep, before he retreated again.

“Nellie’s with her,” he said. “They’re both fast asleep.”

Charlie moved forward and cupped Nick’s face between his hands. “They’re okay, Nick. But are you?”

He grimaced. “What am I meant to say to that? James is—we just saw him—he-he was just here…”

“You’re right,” said Charlie. “I’m sorry. It was a stupid question. Of course you’re not—I’m not and I barely knew him…”

“Hey, hey, no, don’t—don’t do that, Char, please. Please.” His brown eyes shone in the dim light of the upstairs hall. “Can we just—let’s just go to bed, yeah?”

Charlie nodded. Nick brushed a gentle kiss against his forehead, took his hand and led the way into his bedroom. “Want to borrow something to sleep in?”

“Okay.”

He’d pulled on a pair of Nick’s old joggers and was sitting on the side of the bed, holding the faded but soft t-shirt between his hands when the tears came. His throat caught. It didn’t seem right or fair that he would get to be here and James did not. All James got was Ben? He would never find his Nick Nelson. Or go to university or get a job or love anyone—he’d never do anything else ever again.

The bed beside him dipped and then Nick was there and he was crying, too. They sat like that for a long while. Nick rubbed soothing circles into Charlie’s back, but he couldn’t seem to get warm.

“Here,” said Nick softly. He held out his hands and Charlie handed over the t-shirt. Charlie held out his arms so Nick could slip it over his head. He watched Charlie’s hair spring out from the top as he reappeared and smiled.

“Thank you.”

A lump appeared in Nick’s throat. Charlie was so incredible, even with his eyes red and watery, his cheeks pale. Nick leaned forward to kiss them. Their foreheads came to rest against each other and, in the stillness of the room and nothing to burst their perfect bubble, Nick breathed.

“Nick…”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” Charlie’s fingertips were in his hair and tears were streaming down his cheeks. “I love you so so much, and I don’t need you to say it back, I know it’s way too soon, but I just needed to say it because—”

“Charlie…” He swiped at his cheeks with his thumbs and kissed his nose. “I love you, too.”

He felt Charlie’s breath catch. “Really?”

“I love you so much.” Nick wrapped his arms around him and knocked them both sideways onto the bed, amid a burst of muffled laughter. “We’ve only been together for four days but… I’ve wanted to say that for ages. Is that weird?”

“If it is,” said Charlie. “Then I’m weird, too.”

“Oh, there’s no doubting that.”

“Hey!”

They landed facing each other, smiles wide, until they remembered… And they faltered. And the bubble burst. 

Charlie’s face fell. “I’m just scared. After today I thought if—if anything happened to you and you never knew how I felt then… I just needed you to know that I love you more than anything. And if I lost you, I couldn’t… I couldn’t take it. Okay?”

“You’re not going to lose me.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. We’re a team, right? We’ll look after each other and keep each other safe and make sure nothing like today ever happens again. Not to our families or our friends or each other. Because I can’t handle any more of this, Char. We’ve lost too many people and if it were you next, I…” His voice broke. “I just love you and I need you to stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Nick. I swear it on the stars.”

Chapter Text

chapter eleven: her perfect golden son

Over two weeks had passed since Nick and Charlie found James’ body. Since Charlie had called Tao and told him their friend was dead. Maybe by week three Charlie would be able to sleep without reliving it in his dreams, and in the quiet darkness before he fell asleep. The world had shifted back into the way it had been—confusing and unnecessarily cruel. His dad was dead. But he had his gran. He made new friends. But one of them was dead now, too. How much would the universe take from him before it was satisfied?

He had been clinging to that promise he and Nick had whispered to each other that night—to make sure nothing like that ever happened again. But how much power did they have, really? They felt powerful. When they were together sometimes it felt like anything was possible. What couldn’t they achieve while holding the other’s hand?

That night, for the first time in a while, Charlie had fallen asleep before midnight. His dreams had remained restful, until something suddenly woke him. For several moments, he barely registered he’d even woken. He blinked his tired eyes. His bedroom was dark. It was still the middle of the night. He rolled over, wanting to go back to sleep, but then he saw it. What must have woken him in the first place. Orange light was flickering across his bedroom wall. It was coming from outside the window.

The window whose curtains he had not touched in sixteen days.

He slid carefully out of bed and padded to the window. He twitched open a small gap and peered out into the night. James’ window was dark, the curtains closed. The orange light seemed to be coming from James’ front garden. Charlie pressed his cheek to the glass so he could see the very front of next door’s house.

On the small stretch of grass between the pavement and the house, a fire crackled. A man stood beside it, hands in his jacket pockets, his back to Charlie.

Charlie’s first instinct was to call for help. There was a fire. But the man didn’t seem to be panicking. He appeared to be merely observing the flames as if they were of no significance to him whatsoever. They did seem pretty contained within the garden.

Suddenly, the man looked around. Charlie gasped and ducked away from the window, his heart thudding hard. He rolled his eyes at himself. God, why are you being so dramatic? You weren’t doing anything wrong…

He took a deep breath, then peeked through the curtains again. The lack of light made him blink that time. The fire had been doused. James’ front garden was dark again. The man had disappeared, too, leaving only a curved smoking line in the grass.

Wishing he had never looked outside, Charlie climbed back into bed. How was he supposed to get back to sleep now? He glanced at the clock. It was gone two in the morning and now he was wide awake, his mind racing. Who was that man? What had he been doing?

And why was something about him so familiar?

By the time his alarm woke him again, Charlie had forgotten all about the man and the fire. It was the last day of school before October half term and he was eager for a week off. It would be the first stretch of free time he and Nick would have had since they met, and although much of that time was going to be spent on coursework, they felt they deserved some quality time just to be boyfriends.

Charlie was arranging his curls in the mirror when he caught sight of the window behind him—and the images of the mysterious man and the mysterious fire flooded back to him. He moved cautiously to look out the window. He had thought it had been a dream, but no, there it was in the light of day. The curved line scorched into the grass in James’ front garden, no longer smoking but very much there.

He hurried down the stairs, wanting to get to school quickly so he could tell Nick all about this new mystery. But at the sight of Kathleen standing at the kitchen counter, he remembered he could tell her these sorts of things, too, now.

“Morning.” She was surrounded by a plethora of food items, most of which were not breakfast-based. From Charlie’s confused look, she smiled and hand waved the mess. “I’m making sandwiches for the wake tomorrow. I only remembered last night that I promised Sarah ten platters.”

“Well, they look great so far,” said Charlie. “Are you doing cheese and pickle?”

“I thought you hated pickle.”

“I do. But Nick loved those sandwiches you made us before.”

“I knew I liked that boy. At least he appreciates my handmade pickle recipe.”

Charlie chuckled. “Just don’t share the recipe with him or he might not come round here anymore.”

“Aw, you know that’s not true,” said Kathleen. Charlie scoffed, blushing. Kathleen wagged her finger at him. “Now, now, you know that boy is obsessed with you—you must see the way he looks at you.”

“Gran! Please, stop!” 

Charlie yanked the fridge open and used it to call his burning cheeks. In reality, he was beyond thrilled at how well Kathleen had taken to Nick. He just really wasn’t used to wearing his heart so out on his sleeve. 

He made himself some toast and perched at the kitchen table. “There was a man in James’ front garden last night.”

“Was it not his uncle?”

Charlie hadn’t considered this. He had only seen James’ guardians once or twice. “No, he was younger. I thought maybe… does James have a brother?” Sometimes it struck him how little he knew about James.

“No, he was an only child,” said Kathleen. “But I suppose it might have been another family member. They’re all in town for the funeral tomorrow. It could have been another uncle or a cousin. It might have been David.”

Charlie blinked. He swallowed his mouthful of toast. Oh. Right. Of course. That’s why the man seemed so weirdly familiar—he was Nick’s brother. 

“But what was he doing out there at like two in the morning?” He turned to find Kathleen had stopped chopping vegetables. She seemed to be selecting her words carefully. “What is it?”

Kathleen lowered her knife and sighed. “The ceremony you and your friends did to bind your coven, it didn’t just bind you to each other but to each other's bloodlines. And, well, now your coven is at seven, it’s not at full power anymore.”

Charlie stared. “You’re saying that David is here to replace James?”

“It’s possible he sees it that way. I don’t know him very well. He was always a troubled young man but maybe he’s changed.”

“From what I’ve heard he hasn’t.” Charlie dropped the rest of his toast onto his plate. “I need to get going. If David really is back, then I need to be there for Nick. See you later.”

“Alright.” She hugged him quickly. “I have a shift later so I won’t see you until tonight, maybe tomorrow. Have a good day.”

“Thanks, gran, you too.”

Charlie gathered his things for school and headed out of the house. Bundled in his coat, he regretted not adding a scarf. The weather had taken a turn just in time for the half term, he supposed, as was usually the way. He didn’t mind the chill so much, considering all of the lovely things autumn brought. The leaves which crunched underfoot on his way into town were a carpet of orange and gold. Paper bats had been strung across the window of Nellie’s Tea Room, a cluster of carved pumpkins flickering below. He had taken to meeting Nick at the cafe most mornings so they could head into school together. Sometimes it did pay to have a boyfriend with a car. 

And also to have a boyfriend who looked like Nick did whenever Charlie appeared through the door.

He looked up from the floor he’d been mopping and grinned. “Hi!”

“Hi,” said Charlie, pulling him into a kiss. “Why are you mopping? It’s not even eight o'clock.”

“I made you a coffee but I dropped it.” Nick pouted and set his mop aside. “I was trying to do some cool art in the foam… It was shit anyway.”

“Oh my god, you are such a disaster.” Charlie giggled. “But also very cute for trying.”

“You’re cute.” Nick slid his arms around Charlie’s waist and pecked him on the lips. “So fucking cute this morning.” 

“Oh, really? Only this morning?”

“Can’t stand you normally.” But Nick couldn’t even joke about such a thing for long. Charlie pouted, over-dramatically and with lots of batting of his eyelashes, and Nick crumbled. “No! I’m sorry, I love you, I think you’re gorgeous one hundred per cent of the time and please, forgive me.”

“Nick!” Charlie shoved his shoulders gently. “Breathe. It’s okay, I know you think I’m hideous, you don’t have to pretend—”

“Charlie, stop!”

“I’m joking.”

“I know but it still makes me sad.” 

Nick brushed a thumb across Charlie’s cheek. His gaze dropped to his lips and then they were kissing. Charlie’s back collided with the nearest table and then Nick was lifting him to sit on top of it. He pulled Nick closer between his knees and wrapped his fingers in the soft strands of his hair.

“Morning, Charlie,” said Sarah, entering from the back room.

Nick and Charlie resurfaced with an embarrassing sucking sound. “M-morning.” Charlie hopped off the table and tried to straighten the front of his blazer while Nick flattened his hair, cheeks red. 

Sarah laughed and shook her head. “What are you still doing here, Nicky? I’ve told you not to work before school. Not that I’d call that working…”

“Mum, we’re not even open yet, I was just cleaning.”

“And making coffee,” said Charlie. “He was making coffee and spilling it everywhere apparently.”

Nick gasped, betrayed. “For you. I was trying to be romantic.”

“And as discussed: adorable behaviour,” said Charlie, poking his chest. “Now go and grab your school stuff so we can leave and not end up in trouble with Mr Farouk again.”

Nick left him with a farewell kiss—one to rival long sea voyages when he was really only going into the back room to replace his Nellie’s Tea Room apron with his blazer and his school bag. Charlie only remembered Sarah was still there, watching him with that sappy look on his face when it was too late. He blushed and ducked his head as she smiled knowingly at him.

“How are you doing, Charlie?” she asked softly, reaching for Nick’s abandoned mop. “Ready for tomorrow?”

He nodded. He’d managed to forget, for a moment, that his friend’s funeral was indeed, tomorrow. “I suppose so. It’ll be nice for everyone to get some closure. My gran’s making loads of sandwiches. For the wake.”

“Oh, right,” said Sarah. “That’s good. I would have done it myself but we’ve just been so busy with everything else. I must remember to take the Halloween decorations down for tomorrow—they’re cute but not really appropriate…”

Charlie laughed. “Probably not.” He chewed at his lip. “Um, Sarah?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Is David home?”

Sarah looked up from her mopping. “I don’t think so… Why do you ask?”

Charlie shrugged. “I thought I saw him last night outside James’ house.”

“Oh. Well, sometimes he does just show up unannounced. I’ll give him a ring before the cafe opens. Thanks for the heads up, Charlie.”

He returned her cheerful wave as she disappeared behind the counter, into the back room. Nick returned a minute later, blazer over one arm and school bag in hand. He seemed so cheerful this morning that Charlie really hoped it hadn’t been David he’d seen that morning. Maybe it had been some other relative of James’. Charlie didn’t want to ruin that good mood which had been so rare lately, not with something that might not even be true.

“What’s up?”

But of course Nick could reach Charlie’s bad thoughts like a book. “I don’t know,” said Charlie, taking his hand. “It might be nothing, but if it isn’t I’ll definitely tell you.”

The doorbell tinkled and they both looked around. 

The second the man stepped inside, a duffle bag over one shoulder, his blond hair tousled by the wind, Charlie felt Nick’s entire demeanour change. Not just in the way his shoulders tightened, or in the way he dropped Charlie’s hand, but in the very air between them. Charlie’s first instinct was to regain physical contact somehow, but he didn’t. All he could do was stand by his side and hope all the horror stories about Nick’s brother were untrue.

At the sight of the two of them, David stopped dead. His eyes flicked between Nick’s hand and where it had, seconds before, been in Charlie’s. He rolled his eyes. “What? Not happy to see me, little brother?” He swung his bag onto the nearest table. “Our cousin died. His funeral’s tomorrow. I don’t know why you’re so surprised to see me.”

Perhaps they should have seen this coming, Charlie thought. But they had also been pretty preoccupied. With things like processing finding James’ dead body, not to mention the whole demonic possession thing.

David stepped forward and scrutinised Nick, then Charlie, who did his best not to waver, not even when David held out his hand for him to shake. “I’m David. Nick’s older brother.”

“Yep.” He did not shake his hand.

“And you’re…?”

“Charlie.”

“And we’re late for school,” said Nick. He tugged Charlie by his blazer sleeve and began to lead the way past David, to the door.

“I just wanted to meet the guy who turned my little brother gay.”

Oh.

This was what Nick had meant when he said David was a dickhead. To this extent.

Nick froze, his hand on the door. “What—?”

“I’m not blind. Nobody stands around holding hands and looking all lovey-dovey at their mates. Should have always known you’d turn out to be gay.”

Charlie wondered whether he could resist blasting David with magic or if leaving would be safer. 

Nick turned to his brother, arms folded.  “I’m bi, actually. And so what?”

“I’m bi, actually!” David mimicked. “If you’re gonna be gay, at least admit you’re gay.”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you!”

David barked a laugh. “Too late now. What? I’m not allowed to be sceptical when you’re randomly deciding you’re gay?”

“No! You’re not! God, I knew you’d react like this!”

“Like what?”

“Like a homophobic piece of shit!”

“Um, what is going on?” Sarah appeared from the back room, phone in hand. She looked between her sons and gave a long-suffering sigh. “It’s lovely to see you, David, but if you’re going to shout with your brother, would you mind doing it out of the way? Customers will be here in, like, five minutes.”

“Sorry, mum, we’ll—”

“Mum—I mean, come on. He’s saying he’s bi! What a load of absolute bullshit—”

“David!”

“He can’t even admit he’s gay!”

“I hate you—!”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“Boys, that’s enough.” Even Charlie wilted under Sarah’s glare. “Nick and Charlie get to school. David, we will be having words.”

Taking their chance, Charlie grabbed Nick’s hand and all but dragged him from the cafe. He didn’t stop until they made it down the road to where Nick’s car was parked. They climbed in and Charlie clicked both their seatbelts around them.

Nick groaned and let his head fall against the steering wheel. “I hate my brother. I hate him.”

“The way he speaks to you, it’s not okay, Nick. Has he always been like that?”

“Kind of.” Nick lifted his head, his eyes red. “I’m so sorry you had to hear all that.”

“It’s not your fault. You did warn me he was a dick.”

“Yeah, but…” Nick swallowed thickly and shook his head. “I did know he was going to react like that to me… to us. I suppose now we won’t have to pretend when he’s around which is… good.”

“Still,” said Charlie. “Getting found out like that, when you have no control over it… it’s shit. Like, really, really shit.”

Nick nodded. His bottom lip quivered. He tipped forward and Charlie caught him between his arms. “Oh, Nick.” He kissed his hair and stroked his back. “I’m sorry that happened. I’m really sorry.”

“I don’t know why I’m reacting like this,” said Nick, his voice muffled against Charlie’s shoulder. “That’s just never happened to me before. I’ve always been so careful about who I tell and who I let find out.”

Charlie grimaced. “Sometimes there’s only so much we can do. I… I told one person I trusted at my old school, someone I thought was a friend, and the next day the whole school knew.”

Nick leaned back to look into Charlie’s face. “What?” He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “You never told me that.”

Charlie shrugged. “I told you about the bullying, though, didn’t I? Well, that’s kind of how it started.”

“God, I’m so sorry,” said Nick. “Here I am, angry at one person…”

“Your brother, Nick. Someone who’s meant to love you and be there for you no matter what.” Charlie kissed his forehead. “I don’t give two shits about those people at my old school.”

“Good. They don’t deserve your time.” Nick turned to the steering wheel and started the engine. “And if anyone at Truham is mean to you, I’ll fight them.”

Charlie giggled.

“I’m serious. We have all this badass magic now, we could throw them into space if we wanted, Char.”

“That might be a bit extreme.”

It was only when they had made it all the way to school and Nick had parked that Charlie remembered the conversation he’d had with his grandmother. Before Nick could get out of the car, Charlie touched his arm and explained what he had seen. The fire and the man.

“I asked my gran and she thought it might have been David, only now I know it definitely was.”

“But what was he doing?”

“I have no idea.”

“And there was a fire?”

“Yeah, it was all very strange. But I was also half-asleep, so who knows.” He fiddled with his blazer sleeve. He knew how the next piece of information would be received, especially now he’d met the man in question. “My gran also said something else troubling about David.”

“What?”

Charlie sighed. “That when we bound the coven we bound our bloodlines. That he’s a part of the coven, too. That now James is gone, we need an eighth member to be at full power.”

“No,” said Nick, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. No way.”

“Don’t worry,” said Charlie as they headed towards form. “That is never going to happen. Darcy would lose their mind.”

✨

As he had been for the last sixteen days, Richard was working from home. Keeping his head down and busy had suited him just fine, what with reminders of James’ demise around the school all day long. The students had decorated the boy’s locker with all manner of cards and flowers and teddy bears. The only problem was the sheer abundance of it. If he had to tell one crying Higgs girl to bring her condolences somewhere else he thought he might quit his job.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t sad. Of course he was. The entire thing was heartbreaking at every angle. The thing was, over the years, Richard had built up a layer of cold . And it had only solidified over the past sixteen days. Only in the quiet hours before he fell asleep in the early hours of the morning did he let himself cry for the boy he had all but murdered. Cry for his daughter whose friend was dead. Cry because his child was safe and the McEwans’ nephew was not.

Rather them than he.

The knock on his front door made him jump, but he let Kathleen Spring inside with a friendly air.

“I apologise for not calling first.”

“No problem,” he said. “Tea?”

“Please.”

Kathleen perused the collection of family photos on the sideboard while Richard pottered about with the kettle.

“How are things?” she asked. “You seem stressed.”

“We’re doing everything we can to help ease the students through this but… it’s hard to make sense of such a senseless situation.”

“James’ death was not an accident.”

Richard placed a tea bag in each mug, then subtly slipped a knife from the block near him on the counter. He placed it between the mugs, handle ready. “The police say he drowned.”

“James was killed by a demon.”

He took a breath and turned to face her. “A demon?”

“The children have bound their coven,” said Kathleen. “They released the demon from Hazel Foster. James was its next host and he died trying to drown it.”

Richard forced his face into a horrified frown, pretending he didn’t know all this information—nor the falsities within it. “The coven is bound? Oh my god… that… that could have been Elle.”

Kathleen nodded sympathetically. “Could have been Charlie.”

He observed her features carefully. She had always been such a poised, calm and collected woman. “Are you going to talk to the elders? Have them strip them of their powers?”

“No. They need to be able to protect themselves.” She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “Can I count on your help to watch over them?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

✨

“There’s no way we’re letting David be a part of this coven,” said Charlie.

All seven of them were seated around the cottage, as had become their habit. Every day after school, and on the weekends, too, the coven gathered. It was a nice, quiet place to do homework, read or to chill out after a stressful day thinking about A-Levels and university applications. Sometimes it was nice to just be in the same room with the only people who understood exactly what they had lost and how they had lost him.

“But from what you said your gran said, it’s not up to us,” said Darcy. “He is by virtue of his bloodline.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to tell him.” Nick had been quietly stressed all day. He was sitting beside Charlie on the sofa, hair a mess from all the times he’d run his hands through it.

Tao, Elle, Tara and Darcy looked between themselves, brows furrowed. Isaac had his head in a book as normal, though Charlie wasn’t sure he was actually reading. His eyes were still, deep in thought.

“Look,” said Nick. “You don’t know him like I do. Trust me, we don’t want someone like him in our coven.”

“I only met him this morning,” said Charlie. “And I already know he’s a complete knob.” 

Nick squeezed his knee and smiled grimly. “He really is.”

“We’ve all heard some stuff about your brother,” said Tara. “But is he really that bad?”

“Remember when I first got here,” said Charlie. “And you were all worried I’d turn out to be some kind of raging homophobe? Well, that’s David.”

“He found out about us this morning and we got into a massive fight about it. He refuses to believe bisexuality even exists and was being really gross.”

“Oh no,” said Elle. “I’m so sorry, Nick. That’s so shit.”

“Yeah, it is but…” Nick shrugged. “I can deal with him, usually—I mean, he’s in Glasgow most of the time. I just hate that he said all that stuff in front of Charlie.”

“Does he even know about magic?” asked Tao.

“I honestly don’t know.”

“He’d left for uni before I found my book,” said Tara. “Before even Nick knew.”

“Well, let’s keep it that way,” said Charlie. “We don’t need him.”

The others all nodded and murmured in agreement. “Besides,” said Isaac. “We can’t just replace James.”

“Right.” Charlie leaned against Nick, his gaze falling upon the notice board over the opposite wall. A fresh portrait of James (by Elle) now sat pride of place in the centre, surrounded by all the photos they could find of their lost friend. There weren’t many of them.

“What’s the matter, Darce?” asked Tara. 

Charlie and the others looked around. Darcy was the only one of them still deep in thought, their teeth worrying at their lip. Tara peered at them in concern. At the sight of everyone’s gaze on them, Darcy recoiled slightly. “I’m just scared,” they said. “With James g-gone, we’re back where we were before Charlie came. We can’t do solo magic and now we’re not at full power, either.”

Nick and Charlie exchanged a look. They hadn’t experienced a loss of power. When they did magic together, it was almost always perfect nowadays. Perfect and instinctual.

“I’m just saying,” Darcy continued. “If we let David leave and he takes his power with him, we leave ourselves vulnerable again. What if there’s another demon or another Simon or some other crazy shit we haven’t even considered?”

There was a sudden loud rushing sound from outside the cottage. Everyone looked around. It sounded like a strong, violent wind was whipping against the old, wooden front door.

Nick lifted his head from Charlie’s shoulder. “What is that?”

The scent of smoke wafted inside. “Is something burning?” 

Charlie led the way up from the sofas, out into the entrance way. He yanked open the door and a blast of hot air immediately engulfed them. Nick grabbed him and pulled him back as the others threw their arms over their mouths, coughing. The entire front steps of the cottage were up in flames. The bottom step was already cinders, the next crumbling as the fire climbed steadily higher, closer to the door.

“Jesus!” Tao gasped. “What the fuck?”

“We can put it out,” said Nick. “Come on.”

Charlie grabbed onto Nick’s hand and concentrated on dousing the fire. Before the others could even ready themselves, Nick and Charlie had already made quite a dent. The second their hands touched, the flames lowered, scurried back as if an invisible line had been drawn across the threshold through which the fire could not pass. With all seven of them linked, eventually, the fire fizzled completely, sweeping out into nothingness. Until only a curved line was left scorched across the earth at the bottom of the steps.

“Well done everyone,” said Tara, laughing. “Who said we needed more power?”

Darcy shrugged, frowning at the shape on the grass. “What’s that?”

“It looks like a crescent moon,” said Elle.

“Who could have done this?” asked Tao.

Charlie exchanged a look with Nick, who nodded in encouragement. He let out a sigh and told the others about seeing David and the fire in James’ front garden. “It left a scorch mark just like this one. A crescent moon.”

“You think David did this?” Nick shook his head. “Why would he?”

“I don’t know,” said Charlie. “That’s just what I saw. I did say I was half asleep, Nick.”

Nick flopped himself around Charlie’s side. “I’m just trying to make sense of all this, and David always messes with my head.”

Charlie put a hand in Nick’s hair and gave his head a little scratch. The way Nick’s mood had been so affected by his brother’s arrival made Charlie sick with anger and sadness. It wasn’t fair. Nick deserved a brother who could swoop in and help him with anything—whether that was mourning their cousin or fixing the gap in their coven.

“If he’s as much of a dick as you say,” said Tao. “Maybe he did this to scare us.”

“But how would he even know about this place?” said Charlie.

“Well,” said Isaac. “Somebody obviously does know where to find us and how to scare us, even if it isn’t David.”

Darcy raised their eyebrows. “And they burnt this symbol to prove it?” They groaned and shook their head. “None of this makes sense!”

“Hey,” said Nick. “Maybe we could ask your gran. She probably knows all sorts of runes and symbols we don’t. And it would save tons of time we don’t want to spend looking through books.”

“Oh, um, would you be okay with that?” Charlie asked Tara. He knew how she felt about others knowing their secret.

Tara sighed. “I have to admit, it would be very useful to have an elder’s knowledge on our side. I suppose asking wouldn’t hurt.”

The others added their agreement.

“She’s at work this evening so I’ll have to go and find her there. Want to come along, Nick?”

“Of course.”

The seven of them flitted back into the cottage to gather their things.

“You two seriously need to think of some better date locations,” said Darcy.

“Hey,” said Charlie. “Herne Bay is romantic.”

“Yeah,” Tao scoffed. “But not in October.”

“And not when you’re there to visit creepy zombie Hazel,” said Darcy.

“We’re joking about that now are we?” said Isaac.

Darcy shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry. You know that’s how I deal.”

Isaac smiled. “I do know that. It’s okay. I just don’t think I’m quite there yet.”

Nick and Charlie left the others with hugs all round. On the way out, they stopped to quickly fix the burnt steps, their magic entwining beautifully, creating better, shinier, more sturdy steps than before. They smiled at their success and set off through the trees, a trail of fluttering leaves floating in their wake.

✨

“Kathleen could have ruined everything,” said Richard. “But I handled her. She thinks we’re allies.”

It was hours later, the school day was over and Richard was trying to remain calm and comfortable in his armchair. A difficult task since Pauline was pacing a line across the rug and had been ever since she’d answered his summons.

She finally came to a stop, only to gaze out the window at the darkening sky.

“Pauline? Am I boring you?”

She had seemed distant lately, distracted. “No, of course not. It’s good that Kathleen is handled.” When he didn’t say anything she blinked away from the window and gave her head a little shake. “Sorry. I haven’t been sleeping very well.”

Richard sighed. “I know James’ death has been hard on you, but don’t lose focus. This new bond with Kathleen might be exactly the help we need.”

“How?”

“Every family had a crystal at some point,” said Richard. “And Kathleen’s not just any elder, she’s a Spring. There’s a good chance she still has one. And if we can get another crystal then we can strengthen the one we have, we can locate the others and we can finally get our powers back.”

He watched and waited for Pauline to show any enthusiasm at all at this new plan, but her face hardly changed. “Maybe,” she murmured. “But it’s hard to know anything anymore.”

Richard got to his feet and placed a hopefully comforting hand on her shoulder. He peered into her tired face, trying for some comfort. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Pauline? Because if you’re not…”

“I am,” she insisted. “I am.”

✨

Nick had parked outside the hospital and they had hurried through into the main entrance before Charlie realised he didn’t really know where to go. He knew his gran worked in the paediatric ward but where that was he had no idea.

“I think it’s this way,” said Nick, frowning at the map beside the reception desk. “I’ve only been here once. Did you know your gran set my broken arm when I was nine?”

“Aw,” said Charlie. “No, I didn’t know that.” They set off towards the children’s ward. “How did you break your arm? Rugby?”

Nick gave a forced laugh. “David pushed me off the climbing frame at the park.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows, furious. “Did he now? What a twat. I wish I’d been there to push him right back.”

“Now, that I would have liked to see.” Nick ruffled Charlie’s hair. “Though, David was bigger than me when he was thirteen and I’m not sure eight-year-old Charlie would have stood much of a chance.”

“Eight-year-old Charlie would have done anything, I’m sure, for the cute boy with the broken arm and the meanie brother.”

“Like kiss it better and hold him while he cried?”

“Aw, no, poor little Nick,” Charlie whined. “Was your mum there at least?”

“Yeah, she was furious.”

The children’s ward was busy, and a queue had formed at the reception desk. Nick and Charlie joined it, glancing around at the various staff members toing and froing around them. A minute later, Kathleen appeared through the double doors at the end of the corridor.

“Gran!” Charlie called.

She looked up from her clipboard, rainbow scrubs bright and cheerful, as opposed to her face, which dropped at the sight of them. “Charlie? What are you doing here?”

They hurried over to meet her. “There was a fire at the cottage,” said Charlie.

“Was anyone hurt?”

“No, we put it out. But we think someone set it intentionally.”

“There was a crescent moon burned into the ground,” said Nick. “Do you know what that might mean?”

Kathleen glanced around at the bustling ward, grabbed both their arms, led them swiftly into a small, empty waiting room and shut the door behind them. 

“It’s not a crescent moon,” she said. “It’s a C. For conquest.”

“Conquest?”

“It’s old,” said Kathleen. “The exact history is lost but nowadays it’s used to mark a witch’s land. To scare them.”

“You think someone’s trying to threaten us?” asked Charlie.

“It certainly sounds like it.”

Nick and Charlie exchanged looks of alarm. 

“When I saw David last night he left behind that same C-shaped scorch mark.”

Kathleen’s frown deepened. “Have you talked to him about the coven yet?”

“No.”

“Well, don’t.”

A beeping sounded at Kathleen’s hip and she left them as quickly as she’d found them. Nick and Charlie stood there, stunned for several moments before Charlie grabbed Nick’s hand, gave it an encouraging squeeze, then led the way back down the corridor.

They retraced their steps back out to the car park in silence. In the car, Charlie updated the group chat with the worrying news and hoped they had all gotten home safely. When each of their friends had replied, Nick and Charlie breathed a little easier, but Nick still seemed rattled. 

“I know he’s the worst, but I suppose I never thought David would do something like this. So… destructive and I dunno, that conquest mark seems more than just unpleasant. It seems evil.”

“Maybe you could talk to him about it?” said Charlie. “Ask him?”

Nick shook his head. “But if he doesn’t know about magic then I’d like to keep it that way. And it would sound really weird, like, he already has enough ammunition to take the piss out of me.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” Charlie sighed. He observed Nick’s pensive face, so downtrodden and stressed, and remembered how he had been that morning. Finally, some of Nick’s usual sunshine had shone through the dark veil caused by James’ death. But now his shoulders were tense again, his jaw was tight, his eyes shining with worry.

Charlie nudged his shoulder and tried for a smile. “So… want to maybe go on a nicer date? Than a visit to the hospital, I mean.”

Nick blinked. The corners of his mouth curved into a smile and Charlie’s heart flipped over. “What do you want to do?”

“We could watch a film? Or go and get milkshakes or something. I don’t mind, you decide.”

“Charlie, you know I don’t care what we’re doing as long as…”

“As long as we’re together, yes, I know, you’re a massive sap.”

“Are you hungry?” Nick reached for the steering wheel. “Want to go and get something to eat? There’s that new Italian place near Nellie’s I haven’t been to yet.”

“Oh, um, okay…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“You didn’t sound sure.”

“Nick, just drive.” He batted his arm. “I can hear your stomach rumbling from here.”

His cheeks flushed pink, Nick started the engine and pulled out of the hospital parking space. Charlie’s plan had worked. Nick was laughing and smiling and cheerful all the way into town, chattering away about how he couldn’t believe they hadn’t gone on a proper date yet. Meanwhile, Charlie tried not to show the anxiety which had risen in his chest the second Nick had mentioned going to a restaurant.

Breathe, he told himself. You’ve been doing so well. He hadn’t had a wobble in the food department since the first week after his dad died. Before that it had been almost a year. He could do this. He was going on a date—an actual, real-life date with a boy who he loved and miraculously, loved him back. Why couldn’t he go and sit across from him and eat pizza in a room he’d never seen before?

He could see the brightly lit frontage of the restaurant from the car park. Nick sat beside him, trying to figure out how to pay for parking on his phone while Charlie took some deep breaths.

Don’t freak out, he told himself desperately. Be normal, Charlie. You can do magic. You can be normal.

“Yes! I did it!” Nick clicked off his phone and pocketed it. “I usually avoid paying for parking wherever I can. There’s usually space on the road… You okay? Char? You’ve gone really pale.”

Charlie glanced at his reflection in the wing mirror and looked away again quickly. “I-I’m fine. Let’s just go.” He reached for the door handle.

“Wait, no, Charlie, hang on. I can tell something’s up.”

Charlie turned back to face him and took a deep breath. It was difficult to maintain eye contact, especially when Nick was looking at him with such attentive concern. He gripped the sleeves of his coat to stop his fingernails from shredding his palms and squeezed his eyes closed.

“Take a breath, okay?” Nick murmured softly. “Breathe, Charlie.”

He hadn’t even realised his breaths had turned short and stuttered, but with Nick’s gentle hand on his back and his kind words in his ears, they regulated gradually until he was able to open his eyes.

“Talk to me, Charlie. Please?”

He opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Swallowed. Took another breath. 

Nick slid his hand into his and gave it a squeeze. Charlie squeezed back, the pressure like a lifeline. The warm, gentle current of energy that usually flowed between them wrapped him up in its blanket of goodness. 

“I have an eating disorder.” He watched Nick’s face carefully, but it didn’t drop or change or do anything really. “I-I’m in recovery but sometimes I… I can’t really do restaurants. I should have told you before we drove all the way here. I’m sorry.”

“No s-words.” Nick squeezed his hand again. “Thank you for telling me that.”

“Are you… surprised?”

“Kind of. I have noticed when you’re stressed you tend to lose your appetite, but I didn’t think it was that serious. How long have you been dealing with this?”

Charlie shrugged. “A while.” He couldn’t quite believe how well this conversation was going. “I was diagnosed last year. I, um, spent some time at an inpatient facility and yeah… I have OCD, too. It’s about control. My brain’s unhealthy way of trying to regain some after I was outed.” He had made Nick look all sad again. “I’m loads better now,” he added. “I haven’t had a relapse since I moved here. I thought I might, since everything changed so drastically, but I haven’t. I think maybe you’re a big part of that.”

Nick brought a hand up to stroke a thumb over his cheek and kissed his forehead. “Not me,” he whispered. “You. You are so incredible, Charlie. I’m honestly so in awe of you all the bloody time. Can I hug you?”

Charlie’s arms were already around him and then he was being pulled across the centre console, into Nick’s lap. Giggling softly, he let himself be cradled awkwardly between Nick and the steering wheel. “Nick, there’s not enough room.”

“Hush now and let me love on you.” 

The cadence of Nick’s voice, muffled against his shoulder, made tears spring to Charlie’s eyes. He leaned back and took Nick’s face between his hands. His eyes were shining with tears, too. Charlie sniffled. “I’m sorry for bringing the mood down. We were gonna have a nice date and now we’re crying in the car.”

“Crying and canoodling in the car,” Nick corrected, laughing through his own sniffles. “And we can still have a nice date. I think this place does takeaways. Want to take some pizzas back to mine and watch a film? You can choose what we watch.”

“Okay. I will warn you it’s not gonna be Marvel, though.”

“But why not?!”

They spent the wait time for the pizzas continuing to canoodle in the car, during which time Charlie forgot to feel guilty about the derailment of their date. When Nick was kissing him practically senseless, nothing else mattered. The restaurant had to send two text reminders that their pizzas were ready before they resurfaced enough to be conscious of their stomachs.

The house was quiet and dark when they got home. Sarah was still at the cafe, getting everything ready for the wake tomorrow. Nick and Charlie had forgotten. Their friend was dead. The funeral was tomorrow. Their coven was being threatened by some mysterious outside force—who may be just down the hall, Charlie considered, as Nick shut his bedroom door behind them. But he wasn’t about to let David ruin their night. And, he thought, if James were still alive, this was exactly what he would have wanted for them both. To be together and to be happy.

They kept the lights low as they climbed into bed, comfy clothes on, pizza boxes at the ready. Charlie selected Hocus Pocus since it was one of his comfort films, and it was almost Halloween. When the pizzas had been consumed, they lapsed into watching the film only between bouts of kissing. Above them, the new fairy lights, which Charlie had bought last week after promising he would replace the ones he broke, flickered and sparkled. They were better now. Steadier in their magic and in their hearts. Nothing could break, only glow and soar and flutter.

Every now and then, they would remember their friend’s funeral tomorrow, remember the scorch marks, remember David was home—but then they would remember each other and kissing and rainbow fairy lights…

Charlie woke up hours later.

The television had turned itself off and Nick was fast asleep beneath him. Charlie peeled his cheek away from Nick’s chest and rubbed at the wet patch he had drooled into his hoodie. Gross . 

But there was nothing but lightness inside Charlie’s chest when he looked upon his boyfriend’s sleeping face. He smoothed Nick’s brow with his fingertips and wished him to have sweet dreams, despite the current reality they lived in. 

This time last year, Charlie had been at the inpatient care facility, alone and miserable. Never in a million years would he ever have imagined this would be where he would end up. In his boyfriend’s bed, empty pizza boxes pushed onto the bedside table, magic real.

He laughed softly to himself and pressed a kiss to Nick’s forehead. Nick mumbled something incoherent in his sleep and rolled over, reaching for Charlie’s hand. Charlie smiled at him, gave his hand a little squeeze, then got to his feet. 

“I’ll be right back.” He collected the pizza boxes and left the room quietly.

In the Nelson’s kitchen, Charlie padded in his socks to the recycling bin and chucked the pizza boxes inside. It pleased him greatly that he knew where everything was. He knew where the Nelsons kept their drinking glasses and took two down from the cupboard. He knew whoever had installed the kitchen had fitted the tap wrong and red meant cold, blue hot. He was pouring himself a glass when, out of the corner of his eye, a shadow flitted across the kitchen doorway.

He looked around and took a step towards the door, a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Nick?”

He hadn’t heard anyone come down the stairs after him. David was in his room, as he had been all evening. Charlie shrugged. Maybe he didn’t quite know all the noises and sounds of Nick’s house just yet. He turned back to the sink and nearly jumped out of his skin. He stumbled back.

There was a girl sitting on the counter.

She didn’t look much older than he was. Dark makeup was smudged around her eyes, panda-like, her blonde hair cropped short. With her black jacket and thin frame, she appeared almost crow-like.

Charlie backed away further. “Who are you? What do you want?”

There was something clutched in her hand.

A long, thin knife with a wooden handle. Not something the Nelsons would keep in their kitchen.

She hopped off the counter. “Your blood.”

She lunged for him. He darted away, tried to duck aside. Her hand closed around his forearm, surprisingly strong. With all his strength, Charlie shoved out at her and sent her sprawling into the counter.

He took his chance—he sprinted out of the kitchen, into the hall—but she was fast. 

He whirled around, to do what, he didn’t know, but as he did so, the girl leaped onto him, knocking him backwards onto the floor. She had him pinned with her knees before he could even cry out. One hand, thin and pale, wrapped around his throat. The knife glinted in the other.

Charlie gasped, tried to make a sound, to alert Nick—but he was still fast asleep upstairs. Charlie grappled at the girl’s wrist, tried to push her away from his throat but she only squeezed harder. She raised the knife. Charlie’s vision blurred. The blade glimmered as she brought it down. He heard the rip of Nick’s hoodie sleeve, felt the sharp pain as she slashed a line from elbow to wrist.

There was a distant crash, followed by a thunder of footsteps. “Charlie?!”

The girl froze, her hand still around his throat, the bloody knife limp in her hand. She looked around just as Nick and David appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

Charlie choked a gasp. “Nick…” 

Nick looked from Charlie to the girl, to the knife and the blood, to her hand at his throat, and made to dart forward. 

“Move!” David yelled.

A blast of something invisible but strong collided with Nick and he was knocked aside. He stumbled upright, staring around at his brother. 

At the sight of David, the girl let go of Charlie’s throat, allowing him to gasp in lungfuls of air. David moved his hands in another sweeping motion and the girl was thrown sideways into the wall. Rubbing at his throat, Charlie scrambled away from her towards Nick, his arm hanging bloody and stiff with pain at his side. 

“Charlie,” Nick gasped. “Your arm—”

“I-I’m okay.” Charlie coughed. He opened his mouth to reassure Nick some more but closed it again because David had begun to chant. 

Nick and Charlie stared at him, his lips forming words in a language neither of them recognised. The girl, on her feet again, flinched and groaned in pain. David edged closer to her, his chant causing her more and more pain as she inched further towards the front door. Charlie grabbed Nick’s hand and together they threw the door open, just in time for her to turn and flee out into the night. 

The door slammed shut.

Silence.

Stunned, Nick and Charlie sat huddled against the wall. David was still staring at the closed front door, expression unreadable.

“Who the fuck was that?” Charlie gasped.

“No clue,” said David. “But she seemed pretty intent on killing you.” He turned and raised his eyebrows at Charlie, as if it was his fault the girl had broken in and ruined his evening. “A thank you might be nice. I did just save your arse.”

“Shut up, David,” said Nick. He turned to Charlie, brow furrowed in concern as he inspected his arm.

“Is it bad?” Charlie could feel the blood beginning to crust, sticking to the tattered remains of his sleeve.

“I don’t think it’s very deep,” said Nick. “Just long and bloody.”

Charlie glanced down at the spatters of red he had trailed across the floor. His vision swam and turned over. “Nick, the blood, you don’t have to look—”

Only a little green, Nick shook his head and helped Charlie to his feet. He secured his arm around his waist and led him into the kitchen. Charlie really didn’t need the support but he wasn’t about to push his boyfriend away. His presence so close to his side was comforting, grounding, and just him being there was helping the pain in his arm and the discomfort in his throat to ebb.

Nick settled Charlie into a chair at the kitchen table, then went to dampen a cloth at the sink. He returned to crouch before him. With gentle fingers, he rolled up the shredded sleeve of his own hoodie, careful as the drying blood pulled away from Charlie’s skin. They both winced at each spike of pain and Nick kept up a steady stream of apologies as he began to clean the wound.

When Nick had replaced the cloth with a fresh one and most of the blood had gone, Charlie noticed David leaning in the doorway, having been watching them with an air of confused disdain. Like he, too, couldn’t fathom how he could be related to someone as caring and lovely as Nick.

“So,” said Charlie. “I suppose you do know you’re a witch.”

David rolled his eyes. “Obviously. I found our grimoire ages ago.”

Nick’s hand stilled over Charlie’s arm. “What?” He glared at his brother. “Why did you never tell me?”

“Are you kidding me?” David scoffed. “Since when have we been the tell each other stuff kind of brothers?”

“Fuck you. That’s different. Me being bisexual has nothing to do with you. You finding out you’re a witch—surely you realised that meant I was one, too.”

“Well, sorry if I wanted something for myself. You had mum. I had… nothing until I found magic.”

Nick stared up at him. “You had mum, too.”

David snorted and shook his head. “You’ve always been way too soft to see it, Nicky . Her favourite, her perfect golden son.”

Nick fiddled with the frayed edge of the bloody cloth in his hand. “You never exactly made it easy for her. Or for me.” He chewed at his lip. Charlie rubbed his shoulder. “You would have had us if you’d let us be there for you, with or without magic. We have a coven now, and you’re a part of it whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t want anything to do with your coven,” David spat. “You’re just a bunch of kids in way over your heads. If you think I’m gonna—”

“For fuck’s sake, David…” Nick made to get to his feet, but Charlie’s hand on his shoulder calmed him. They exchanged a look. At least the feeling about David joining the coven was mutual. They didn’t want him and he didn’t want them. But still, Charlie thought, David clearly had power and knew how to use it. He even had solo magic… somehow.

Charlie turned to David. “What were you doing in James’ front garden last night?”

“Putting out a fire. Someone—probably that crazy bitch who was just here—burnt a crescent into the ground.”

“But why would she do that?” asked Charlie. “Who was she?”

David shrugged. “Could be a witch from another coven.”

“Maybe she followed you from Glasgow,” Nick snapped.

“I suppose it’s possible. But I’ve never seen her before.”

Nick sighed. He turned back to Charlie and rested his head on his knee. Charlie planted a hand in his hair and stroked it gently. Nick slipped his arms around his waist and closed his eyes, breathing him in. Charlie rubbed his back the best he could while his wrist still ached.

“Jesus christ,” David groaned. “I’m going to be sick. If you’re gonna be gay, Nicky, at least have some decency about it. I don’t want to watch this—”

“Well, fuck off, then!” said Charlie.

David flipped them off and sauntered out of the kitchen. They listened to his footsteps disappear up the stairs and his bedroom door slam shut.

Nick lifted his head. “God, that was so fucking hot.”

“What?”

“You shouting at David like that. Hot.”

Charlie smirked. “Oh, really?”

“Oh, definitely.” Nick’s smile faltered. His eyes flicked down to the light bruising across Charlie’s throat. “God, Charlie, when I came down and saw her on you…”

Charlie collected him up against him and Nick lay his head instead over his heart. His arms tightened around him, as if afraid of what would happen if he let go. “It’s okay,” Charlie whispered into his hair. “I’m okay. I can get my gran to look at my arm. I’ll be fine.”

“Will she be home now? Or should we go back to the hospital?”

Charlie gave a sad laugh and kissed his golden retriever-boyfriend. “She’ll be home soon if she isn’t already. You patched me up pretty well, but if she’ll make you feel better—”

“Let’s get in the car. Are you warm enough? Here, don’t forget your coat.”

“Nick…” Charlie hurried after him into the hallway and accepted his coat gratefully. He pulled him into a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now, please, can we go? Are you feeling dizzy? Should I carry you to the car?”

“I’m fine! Nick, no—I said I’m fine!”

“Too late!”

Charlie wrapped his arms around Nick’s neck and resigned himself to being hauled out of the house and down the path like a sack of exasperated but fond potatoes.

It was only a short drive from River Crescent to Britannia Road, not even five minutes. Charlie sprinted up the front path before Nick could get his hands on him again. He only regretted it as he reached the door and his head briefly swam. He had lost some blood, he supposed. 

“Jesus, Char, don’t do that. Please?”

Charlie laughed, but stopped abruptly at the look on Nick’s face. “Sorry. But I really am okay.”

“Let’s just make sure for certain, okay? For my heart’s sake if nothing else.”

They stepped into the hall to find Kathleen only just taking her shoes off after a long shift at the hospital. She took in their bedraggled appearances. “What happened?”

“A girl broke into Nick’s house and took a swipe at me. David stopped her.”

Kathleen noticed the blood staining the sleeve beneath Charlie’s coat. “Right. In.” 

She chivvied them into the living room and pushed Charlie into the armchair. He shed his coat and she crouched down to inspect the cut. “Thank god you’re alright. Are you hurt, Nick?”

Nick shook his head. “No, I was upstairs. Asleep like a useless fucking prick…”

“Absolutely not, Nicholas Nelson.” Charlie shot him an affectionate glare. “Absolutely none of that.”

“Hmph.”

“Listen to your boyfriend, Nick,” said Kathleen. She grabbed a roll of bandages from the first aid kit and began to unravel it. “Now, you tell me exactly what happened.”

Chapter Text

chapter twelve: out of our hands

She was not hard to find. 

That night, when David finally heard his brother and his new pet leech leave the house, he got into his car and drove straight across town. The tiny little bed and breakfast was a favourite haunt of her kind. Enough out of the way to be inconspicuous but close enough to civilisation to still get things done. He found the room easily since there were only four to choose from, and knocked on the door. 

It opened just a crack. One smudged eye appeared.

“Millie.”

The door snapped shut again. There was a series of clicking noises and the sound of a bolt sliding aside. David rolled his eyes. God, she was so paranoid. But maybe she had a reason to be.

She yanked the door fully open and glared at him. “Hi, David.”

He slipped quickly past her, into the small hotel room. The curtains were drawn and it was dark, the bed rumpled like she’d been struggling to sleep before he arrived.

“I figured you’d find me.” She shut the door behind them, then moved slowly to the desk and picked up a bottle of vodka. She grabbed a mug and began to pour.

But he wasn’t having any of her fake niceties. Before she could offer him the mug, he grabbed it, slammed it onto the desktop and shoved her backwards, pinned her to the wall. He gripped her chin tight, forced her to keep her gaze upon him. “Why did you follow me? What the fuck were you doing marking my cousin’s house?”

She studied him, eyes glinting in the dim light. Then she let out a sigh. She rolled her eyes. “There’s one answer to both those questions. Because you’re a witch and I don’t trust witches.”

He shoved her away from the wall. She quickly steadied herself against the desk, then straightened her pyjamas and picked up the vodka.

“You hate my kind,” said David. “And you know well that I hate yours—so blinded by fear, so assured of your righteousness that you’re just frothing at the mouth to kill.” He peered inside the duffle bag which sat open on a chair. Empty. He glared at Millie. “Give me the blood you took from Charlie Spring.”

Millie merely sipped her vodka. David went to the chest of drawers and began to rifle through her underwear.

“Get away from there,” she hissed. She moved to shove him aside.

With one quick flick of his hand, she went sprawling backwards onto the bed. “You don’t want to test me, Millie!” 

Beneath a pile of bras, he found what he was looking for. A tiny glass vial full of blood. “It’s too soon for blood letting.” He pocketed it and strode to the door.

“You just made a big mistake.”

“Stay the fuck out of my way.” David slammed the door shut behind him.

✨

Nick didn’t know how he’d ever sleep peacefully again. Charlie was conked out beside him, his mouth open slightly, emitting tiny, adorable snores, his face pressed against Nick’s shoulder. His wrist, slung across Nick’s waist, had been bandaged thanks to Kathleen but only served as a reminder of Nick’s failures. 

Yesterday had been tiring and stressful even before the home intruder. Of course Nick had been tired, of course he’d fallen asleep. Their evening had been so cosy and relaxed and Nick had finally been feeling a little less stressed, a little less worried about David and about the coven being threatened. But then, the most terrifying rush of dread had woken him, along with the immediate sense that something was wrong. Charlie had needed him. And he hadn’t been there. Not until the intruder already had a hand around his throat, not until he’d already been slashed with a knife.

So, no, Nick could not sleep and he wouldn’t. Instead, he lay on his back, listening to Charlie’s snores, focusing on the steady rise and fall of his breaths and watching the stars swirl across the ceiling. Their light was soft and calming, holding a gentle kind of wonder.

He let out a sigh. He knew he probably should sleep. Tomorrow was likely to be another emotional day and he would need to be rested. Especially when he and his mum had worked so hard to make the wake as lovely as it could be.

Doing his best not to jostle Charlie, he plucked his phone from the bedside table. He only realised it was gone midnight after he sent the first message to the group chat.

NICK (0:34): Okay so we have developments both on the mysterious fire front and the David front

NICK (0:35): If anyone’s still awake!

NICK (0:37): Basically, a girl broke into my house and attacked Charlie. David fought her off with solo magic which he can apparently do. We think she’s who’s been setting the fires. She might be a witch from another coven but she might have followed David from Glasgow we don’t know.

NICK (0:38): It’s all been a lot and we’re okay now, just thought you’d all better know 😅

DARCY (0:40): we’re awake and omg wtf?!??!?!

TARA (0:40): i wasn’t awake but i am now!! Charlie was attacked?? Is he okay???

NICK (0:41): She cut his arm and it bled a lot but his gran patched him up. He’s asleep now, but jesus fucking christ, it was one of the scariest things I’ve ever seen 😭

TARA (0:41): oh nick 😭 but are you okay? She didn’t get you??

NICK (0:42): No, I wasn’t even there to even do anything until it was too late

DARCY (0:42): did you say dave can do SOLO magic??? how??

NICK (0:43): No idea! He did seem to know what he was doing though. He threw me aside and managed to scare knife-girl off no problem.

DARCY (0:43): wait why did he throw you aside???

NICK (0:44): I was trying to get to Charlie but 🤷

TARA (0:44): nick, he was trying to protect you 🥹

NICK (0:44): wtf no he wasn’t! He doesn’t give a shit!

DARCY (0:45): you ran head first towards a crazy stabby girl my dude

NICK (0:45): Who had just stabbed Charlie!! Of course I did!!

TARA (0:45): Still! David does care, deep down, even if it doesn’t seem like it ❤️

NICK (0:46): Doesn’t mean I want him in our coven!!! He was still a dick even after he technically saved us 😠

TARA (0:46): i don’t particularly want him around either but if that girl comes back then ??

DARCY (0:46): we’ve been marked with some creepy ancient conquest fire-rune and a girl BROKE INTO YOUR HOUSE AND HURT OUR CHARLIE it kills me to say it but maybe we need the homophobe’s help??

NICK (0:47): But if we can’t trust David, which I don’t, then maybe we’re stronger without him.

NICK (0:48): No! If the girl comes back Charlie and I can deal with her ourselves. Our magic has been pretty strong lately. We don’t need David. We don’t!!

He chucked his phone back onto the side and snuggled further under the duvet. Charlie rolled over in his sleep and Nick rested his cheek against his hair, eyes closed. Charlie was so strong, he was so brave and incredible. Maybe Nick could be those things too, for him. For their friends and his mum and himself. He had stopped needing a big brother for anything a long time ago.

Maybe he, Nick, could be enough, with Charlie or all on his own.

✨

The funeral didn’t start until two, so Nick and Charlie spent a lazy morning wrapped up in bed. Eventually, Charlie dragged himself from the cocoon of warmth they had created and managed to shower, dress and make two cups of tea all before Nick showed any signs of stirring. He blinked sleepily and grinned that lopsided smile as he handed him a mug. It was difficult not to let himself be pulled back under the covers. The day ahead seemed infinitely long from that side of it.

Once their tea had been consumed and Nick was a little more awake, they descended into kissing. Another excuse to further avoid facing the day. But they couldn’t exist in their safe bubble for too long. Soon, Kathleen was calling them downstairs. They ate a hasty brunch and then Nick was heading out the door. He had promised to help his mum with the final preparations for the wake. Charlie had offered to go along to help, too, but Kathleen needed help herself with the plethora of sandwiches she’d made.

Charlie was still gazing after him a minute after the front door had shut.

“You’ll be okay apart for an hour or so, surely,” Kathleen teased.

“I just don’t want him to worry.” Charlie began stacking the sandwich trays into neat piles. “After yesterday… It really shook us both. And it’s hard to let him go when who knows what’s out there waiting for us.”

“I understand,” said Kathleen. “Of course I do. Sticking together is important, especially when you’re a part of a coven—and when you’re a part of a couple.” She smiled softly and gestured to a chair. “Now come and sit while I change that bandage.”

Charlie sat, rolled up his sleeve and studied the mark in fascination. There was now only a thin scabbed line running from wrist to elbow, healing nicely.  “Everything happened so fast. She moved so quickly…”

“Hmm…” Kathleen disposed of the old bandage. “We have to assume she’ll be back. And… yes… I think now is the time. Wait there, I’ve got something for you.”

He sat there patiently while his grandmother bustled out of the room. She returned shortly, holding the old carriage clock which usually sat on the sideboard in the dining room. She set it on the kitchen table and Charlie leaned forward, curious. He watched as Kathleen lifted away the back casing. She reached her hand inside and removed… a crystal, glass-like and small enough to fit in her palm.

“My mother gave this to me,” she said. “And if Julio were here I know he’d pass it on to you.”

She placed the crystal into Charlie’s hand. He turned it over, studying it. It was smooth and cool to the touch. Pretty but not necessarily extraordinary upon first glance. “This is what you used on Isaac.”

“It is.” Kathleen closed the back of the clock. “Think of it as a sort of lens that magnifies your power. Coven magic is complicated—it involves multiple personalities, conflicting attitudes. The crystal is simpler. It’s merely a reflection of you.”

“Wait.” Charlie stared at the small item in his hands. “Do you mean this can allow me to do solo magic?”

Kathleen nodded, her expression serious. She folded her hands around Charlie’s, which in turn cupped the crystal. “No one can know you have this. Not even the rest of your coven.”

“Not even Nick?”

She pressed the crystal firmly between Charlie’s hands and moved away. “Not even Nick. That is the most coveted magic there is, but it can bring out the worst in people. Okay?”

Charlie nodded.

But as the two of them finished up with the sandwiches and parted to change for the funeral, Charlie half-wished his grandmother could have kept the crystal to herself. He didn’t want to have to hide something like this from anyone, least of all Nick. He had come accustomed to talking to him about everything, even things he’d never told a single other soul. And he knew how desperate some of his other coven mates were to have solo magic back.

In front of the mirror, he smoothed his hands down the black jacket. He’d bought it for his dad’s funeral. It had been packed away at the bottom of his suitcase in the hopes he’d never have to touch or look at it again. He straightened his tie, resenting the lack of colour. He cast a glance across his room and remembered the little pride flag pin sitting on his desk. His dad had bought it for him at his very first parade when he had been thirteen. He pinned it to his lapel and breathed.

“Ready to go?” came his grandmother’s gentle shout from downstairs.

He tweaked his hair one last time, then, before he could second guess himself, snatched up the crystal and shoved it into his pocket before darting out the room.

Charlie didn’t feel too bad about it when, upon arrival at Nellie’s, he dropped his stack of sandwich trays into Sarah’s arms and immediately replaced them with Nick. Half the room had been cleared of tables to make room for the two large buffet tables, plus a drinks table and space for people to mingle. While Sarah and a few of her employees set the sandwiches out with the rest, Nick drew Charlie into a kiss—probably far too passionately for the setting, but neither of them found a reason to care.

“Is it weird to say you look nice when we’re going to a funeral?” Charlie whispered.

“I hope not,” Nick whispered back. “Because I was just thinking you look incredible.”
“Well, then, you look so good, Nick, oh my god.”

They were swiftly brought back down to earth again once it came time to leave. The four of them set off down the road towards the church. Charlie hadn’t thought the McEwans were religious but then again, he barely knew them at all. As they approached, he couldn’t help but notice the weather seemed to fit the occasion. The sky was dark and dreary, sullying the colours of autumn into a cold, crisp grey.

David appeared only as they arrived at the church and Sarah pulled him into a reluctant hug. Meanwhile, Nick and Charlie were enveloped by Elle who hurried over with Tao following close behind. Then Tara, Darcy and Isaac were all there, too, exchanging hugs and comforting words. Elle kept coming back to hug Charlie again. He squeezed her arm and tried for a reassuring smile. He suspected she wanted to ask about last night, but knew now wasn’t the time.

Inside, they greeted James’ aunt and uncle very briefly, then made their way to their seats. Nick explained hurriedly to Charlie that, after his own maternal aunt and uncle died in the barn fire, James was adopted by his dad’s brother and his wife. None of them knew them very well, not even Isaac, but still, Nick was led into the front row after David. Charlie was about to go and join their friends in the row behind when Nick grabbed his hand and pulled him into the pew beside him. Their hands found each other again and they exchanged sad but grateful smiles.

As they waited, Charlie observed the people seated around them. There were several people he recognised from school including Imogen, Sahar, Aleena and Jay. He spotted Ben sitting beside his tight-jawed father on the very back row. There was Mr Argent, sitting beside Tara’s mum, Pauline. Isaac’s mum, Emma, was arm in arm with Yan Xu, both of them with tissues in hand. Charlie had never met the lady on the very end but he supposed she must be Darcy’s mum, Amanda. From what he had heard, the sour expression on her face was the norm—as was the way she separated herself from the others with an air that she was better than them.

But she was still there. 

Charlie glanced to where Kathleen was seated and felt a pang in his chest. He wished his dad was there—and once again, he remembered he would never be there again.

He would have thought the idea would have stuck by now.

Charlie let his head rest on Nick’s shoulder. “I love you,” he whispered.

Nick put an arm around him and kissed his head. “I love you.”

All through the service, they held each other tight, hands entwined, hoping this would be the last funeral for a long time coming.

✨

Nellie’s Tea Room was full of people when they returned. Clusters of McEwans and Fourniers, Truham and Higgs students and teachers, friends and acquaintances, most of whom Charlie didn’t recognise, clutched plates of buffet food and filled the room with gentle chatter. Sometimes Charlie felt he had known James well, while other times he remembered how little time he’d really been in his life. His first openly gay friend.

Nick disappeared into the crowd to help his mum, and Charlie watched him go. He wished he could have stayed a bit longer—but he was such a sweetheart and Sarah did look a little stressed. With a sigh, Charlie turned to Isaac and hooked arm around his. Isaac had been pale and tearful all afternoon, and he was clutching the flowers he’d brought so hard he was in danger of decapitating them.

“Come on,” Charlie murmured. He ushered Isaac over to the table in the corner where a board of photographs and condolences had been set up, flowers and teddy bears surrounding it. 

Isaac set his flowers down, then gripped Charlie’s arm again. “We should get something to eat.”

They made their way over to the buffet table and found it half-demolished already. Not that Charlie was really feeling up to eating much.

“Hello there, Charlie, Isaac.” Pauline had loaded her plate with a mound of salad leaves and a single sausage roll. She was looking a little lost as to what else to choose. “You ever think about how no matter what we do, no matter the choices we make or how we try to control our lives, that it’s just all out of our hands?”

Charlie clutched his paper plate. “Um… I suppose so.” Yes—all the fucking time.

“History keeps on repeating itself.”

Mr Argent appeared and patted her arm. “Come on, Pauline. I saved you a place at our table.”

Pauline allowed him to lead her away. They seemed cute together, Charlie thought. It would be nice if they ended up together for good, for them and their daughters.

Once they had gathered their own plates of food, Charlie and Isaac joined Tao and Elle at their table by the window to eat. Well, Charlie picked. Usually buffets were pretty safe for him. They offered more control, but also more choice. The bandage around his wrist itched every time he moved and he could tell Tao had noticed him fidgeting with it.

“I’m fine,” Charlie insisted before Tao could open his mouth.

“I wasn’t going to…” Tao sighed. “Sorry, I just… We read Nick’s messages this morning and… are you sure you’re alright?”

Charlie sighed and set his fork down. “The cut wasn’t that deep and it’s healing nicely. Look.” He rolled up his sleeve and carefully peeled away the bandage. His three friends leaned forward to peer at the cut. 

Elle smoothed a gentle finger over the thin red line. “Oh, Charlie, no wonder Nick was freaking out.”

Grimacing, he shook his sleeve back into place. “Yeah, it was really scary, but like Nick said, David helped us and we’re okay.”

“Nick said David did solo magic,” said Tao. “How is that possible?”

“Well, I’m glad he can,” said Elle. “Otherwise who knows what might have happened.”

The crystal in Charlie’s pocket suddenly weighed heavier. But he had promised to keep it a secret. He thought only the best of his coven, but his grandmother’s warning about the crystal bringing out the worst in people had a different meaning when magic was involved. He had witnessed Isaac and James taken over by a demon and made to do terrible things. What could the crystal make them do?

Tao shook his head. “Do we really need him, though? I know we’re not at full power anymore, but we’re not hopeless. And Nick and Charlie, as much as I hate to say it, their magic is always on point.”

“I know we hate David,” said Isaac. “But if he can do solo magic, then maybe he can teach us how. Right now, I don’t exactly feel safe and…” He shrugged. “If we had solo magic, maybe we wouldn’t be at a wake, James would be alive and you wouldn’t have that cut on your arm.”

But Charlie had stopped listening. Of course that was how David had been managing it. He couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to put two and two together. David had a crystal, too. Or something similar, anyway. 

As his mind raced, his gaze drifted across the room to where Nick had reappeared by the drinks table. Charlie watched him work, topping glasses with a gentle hand. He seemed more cheerful now, thriving with something practical to do, but Charlie did wish he would sit down and take a moment to eat something himself. As if an invisible tether had tugged at him, Nick looked up and met Charlie’s eye. He smiled and gave a small wave.

“You okay?” he mouthed.

Charlie nodded and smiled back.

✨

He was so cute, Nick thought as he slid a fresh tray of drinks onto the table—and almost spilled them. Served him right for being so smitten. But it wasn’t his fault his boyfriend was so distracting.

“Want some help?” Darcy appeared at his side with Tara in tow.

“Yes, please.” They transferred the glasses of prosecco onto the table much quicker with the three of them doing it. “Thanks.” He pretended not to notice Darcy pilfer several flutes for themself.

Tara plucked up her own glass and sipped it. “Are you feeling any better now, Nick? Did you manage to get any sleep?”

“Some.” His gaze drifted across to Charlie again. He had gone back to picking at his food, eyebrows furrowed while Tao, Elle and Isaac talked around him. “I just… want to keep him safe, you know? And I feel like I failed last night.”

Tara placed a hand on his shoulder. “From what it sounded like, you did everything you could.”

“And if David hadn’t blasted you out of the way,” said Darcy. “You would have fucked that girl up. Nobody hurts your man and gets away with it.”

“I should have been there sooner, I should have—” A plate smashed somewhere nearby, then a muffled “shit!” made him whirl around. “I’d better go and help.” He pushed the remaining tray of drinks into Darcy’s hands and hurried around the counter. 

Biscuits were scattered across the floor between the broken shards. Sarah was already sweeping it up with a dustpan and brush, but Nick knelt down at once and took over.

“Oh, Nicky,  you don’t need to—Well, alright, then…” She sat back away from the mess and leaned against the cupboards. There were tears in her eyes.

“Mum, what’s the matter?”

She scoffed, tutted and shook her head. He knew she hated him seeing her get emotional. Nick scooped up the last of the broken crockery and tossed it into a bin bag. “I’ll get you some water, or I could put the kettle on if you like?”

“Water is fine, thank you, sweetheart.”

He poured a glass from the sink and settled down on the floor beside her. She took a steady sip. “This town,” she sniffled. “It just can’t stop burying kids.”

Nick blinked. Right. How many of his mum’s friends had died when she was young? All in the same night they had gone, tearing couples apart. Couples with infant children. Sarah had been in her mid-twenties, and to Nick, that had always seemed old enough to handle such things but now… not so much. He waited patiently at her side, cautiously curious.

“How can it still hurt so much? It was so long ago.” Her hand travelled to the pendant she always wore around her neck. “That wake was at St George’s Hotel. Julio wasn’t there. I tried to look for him but he never showed up. After everything that had happened, he was too distraught over Jane to go to the funeral. And he didn’t want to bring Charlie—he was just a little baby then. Only a few months old.”

“Did David and I go?”

“Mmhm… I’m still not sure whether that was a good idea. Your brother was always so angry after that. I suppose he was just old enough to understand what had happened. You, on the other hand, were my sweet little baby, toddling around, cheering everyone up. Just like now.”

Nick breathed a laugh. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Of course, baby. I’m just tired. I’ve been going non-stop all week it seems.” She got to her feet, downed her water and set the glass aside. She readjusted her apron and clapped her hands, as if willing herself to get back into action. They still had guests, after all, and the wake wasn’t going to manage itself. The evening was drawing in but people would still be wanting drinks.

“I’d better go,” said Nick, following his mum to his feet. “I just shoved a whole tray of glasses into Darcy’s arms…”

“Oh, you’d better go and make sure they haven’t made a huge mess, then.” Sarah laughed. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. You go and be with your friends. Heaven knows you need a break, too.”

The crowd had definitely thinned when he returned to the main room. The sombre mood which had followed them from the church had been nullified by time, food and alcohol. Though James’ aunt and uncle had gone home quickly, clusters of family and friends remained, plates empty but glasses filled and refilled. Nick was glad. He had been able to help these people in some way.

A surprisingly tipsy Darcy had been corralled into a chair with a whole plate of biscuits, while Tara ran the drinks table with much more elegance than Nick could have managed. 

Nick let out a breath. Tara and Darcy had it under control. Maybe he could have a break. 

He turned to the window table where Charlie had been five minutes ago, only to find his seat empty. Nick’s heart dropped. Maybe a tad too dramatically, but then again, maybe not. Tao saw his face fall and nodded towards the front door. Nick followed his gaze and there he was—Charlie. Thank God. But then he saw who Charlie was talking to—or rather, who was talking to him.

In a couple of strides, Nick was across the room to his boyfriend’s side, arms folded, glaring daggers. “What’s going on?”

David was leaning against the doorframe like he knew he was blocking the exit but couldn’t care less. “Whoa, cool your jets, Nicky. Am I not allowed to talk to Charlie?”

“Not if you’re going to—”

“Nick…” Charlie slid an arm around Nick’s waist and squeezed. “It’s fine.” He shot David a pointed look. “Your brother was just asking me what it’s like being gay. I was just about to tell him it’s fucking great, actually.”

“Ugh!” David scoffed. “That is not what I meant.”

Nick pulled Charlie closer to his side and raised his eyebrows. “What did you mean, David? Want to tell us what it’s like being straight? Or just what it’s like being an arsehole?”

Charlie snickered, but David stood away from the doorframe, suddenly on the offensive. “How am I an arsehole? Or did you forget I saved both your arses last night?”

“We didn’t need you!” Nick stepped forward, angling himself between Charlie and David. “I could have handled it if you hadn’t shoved me!”

David snorted. “Yeah, right. I’ve been doing this way longer than you have, little brother. And I am way more powerful.”

“On my own maybe,” said Nick. “But not with Charlie. Together we could have—”

“Oh, please, don’t make me sick. Just because some skinny little fag has got you wrapped around his dick, doesn’t mean you’re better than—”

“Shut the fuck up! Don’t you dare—don’t you dare talk about Charlie like that.”

He felt a tug on his sleeve. “Nick, don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“Listen to your little girlfriend, Nicky. Or do you prefer him to only speak when spoken to? That’s probably for the best…”

Nick wasn’t sure what happened next. Only that his fist was clenched and then it was hurtling towards his brother’s face. 

“Nick, don’t!” Charlie cried. 

David ducked aside, then swung round with surprising speed. Nick shoved out at him but David was primed and ready. His fist connected with Nick’s jaw, and then the two of them went sprawling sideways into the nearest table. 

“David, stop!”

The pair toppled onto the floor and rolled, limbs flailing at each other. Charlie reached down to pry them apart but it was tricky not to get hit. “Tao, help me!”

Tao merely stood up from his chair and continued to stare at the spectacle along with Elle, Isaac and many of the other wake guests. Tara and Darcy pushed their way to the front of the gathered crowd. “Oh my god,” Darcy gasped. “What is going on?”

Finally, Nick managed to roll away from David and heaved himself onto his knees. Charlie reached out a hand and helped him to his feet. “Nick, Jesus, that was—” Nick’s eyes widened and Charlie turned. David had gotten to his feet too, but his rage hadn’t dwindled in the slightest. He moved to swing another hit. Charlie shoved Nick behind himself. “Stop it! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me ?” David glared from Nick to Charlie—then spat, a long strand of saliva at Charlie’s feet. He turned on his heel and stormed out, the front doorbell rattling dangerously in his wake.

The following silence was deafening.

Charlie could feel the anger still thrumming through Nick, because it was inside him too. Nick moved, tried to break out from behind him, to go after his brother, but Charlie turned around and blocked him. “No. Let him go. Breathe, Nick. Let it go.”

“He just fucking spat at you, Char.”

“I know.” Charlie reached to tilt Nick’s chin, to inspect the bruise. “He’s the worst, but… come on, let’s get you some ice.”

“Here, Charlie.” Tara passed him a bag of ice from the drinks table.

“Thanks, Tara.” He grasped Nick’s hand and Tara and Darcy followed along as he marched him over to where Tao, Elle and Isaac were sitting near the window, still watching in alarm. “You, sit.” He pushed Nick into a chair and held the ice to his jaw.

“Are you okay?” said Elle. “That was so intense!”

“I can’t believe he hit you,” said Tao.

“What was he saying?” asked Isaac. “We couldn’t really hear.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Charlie with a sigh. Nick was still a little shaky, his eyes wide and muscles tight. Charlie half wanted to tell him off for throwing the first punch, but he knew Nick didn’t need to hear it. He didn’t need to be told what he had done was wrong.

“That was incredible,” said Darcy. 

“Incredible,” said Tara. “Also incredibly stupid.”

“I hope his face looks worse than yours,” Darcy added. “I mean, what an absolute bellend.”

Nick swallowed thickly and gazed up at Charlie through tearful eyes. And Charlie’s heart broke. He dropped into a crouch before him and kissed his bruised knuckles. “What do you want to do? We could get some air or some food or a drink… or all three of those things.”

“I kind of just want to go home?”

“Okay.”

“But I don’t want to let my mum down. She needs my help. I shouldn’t even be sitting here right now, not when there’s so much to do.”

“No, Nick, listen to me, please.” Charlie stroked his cheek. “It’s been an emotional day. And yesterday, too. You need a break. Why don’t we go home together? Play some Mario Kart, watch Iron Man, make out a whole bunch?”

“Iron Man? Really?”

“If it’ll cheer you up, I’d watch anything. Even Marvel.”

“That does sound good.” Nick let out a long, slow breath. “I should tell mum, though. I don’t want her to worry.”

“Alright.” Charlie stood up to kiss him, then pushed the bag of ice into his hands. “Keep that on your chin. We don’t want it to get all swollen and sore.”

Nick managed a weak smile before he slinked off around the counter into the back room. Charlie watched him go. It wasn’t fair. Nick was so good, he was so wonderful and loving, it didn’t make sense that his own brother couldn’t see it.

He bade a brief goodbye to his friends, then headed to the door to wait. He glanced out the large front windows of the cafe and spotted David on the pavement outside. He was talking to someone, very animatedly, his brow furrowed—his cheek was a little bruised, Charlie noticed with some relish. But then he saw the person he was talking to—it was a girl. With short blonde hair, a black hooded jacket and dark makeup smudged around her eyes.

What the fuck? 

Charlie looked back at his friends’ table—they were laughing and joking together over glasses of prosecco, more cheerful than they’d been in weeks. He looked back at David and the girl just in time to see her grab his arm and begin to drag him away, out of sight.

Shit. The last time they’d seen that girl, she had been coming after Charlie with a knife. As much as he didn’t like David, he didn’t want him to be murdered. Charlie pushed open the cafe doors and hurried down the road after David and the girl. Shadows stretched long and thin across the pavement, his breath lifted in clouds around him. He rounded the corner into a darkened alley.

“I told you to stay out of my way!” David hissed.

Charlie ducked out of sight and peered around the wall to watch.

“I’m not done here!” The girl yelled.

David whirled around at her. “Well, I am.”

Charlie gripped the brick wall beside him and tried to keep his breath even and quiet. David and the girl glared at each other, mere inches apart. And suddenly, a prickling fear crept up Charlie’s neck and he shivered. Did these two know each other after all? 

David made to turn away, took a step back, but the girl moved with impressive speed. She kicked at the back of his legs and brought David sprawling to the pavement. There was a muffled shing and then a knife was in her hands, glinting dully in the dying light. Without thinking, Charlie shoved his hand into his jacket pocket and brought out the crystal his grandmother had given him. Would this really work?

The girl leapt on top of David, pinned him to the ground with her knees, just like she’d done with Charlie. She raised the knife—

He didn’t even need to concentrate. All he had to do was think. A rush of something hard and fast and sharp rippled through him, through his very core, collecting in his palm where the crystal lay. The knife lifted itself from the girl’s hand and flew aside to clatter into the gutter. 

At the same time, David and the girl lunged after it. They scrambled at each other, fighting for repossession of the knife. Charlie tried to shake off the deep, scraping sensation the crystal had brought but there wasn’t time. He couldn’t let Nick’s brother be killed. He couldn’t. He slipped out of his hiding place and sprinted forwards. 

David closed a hand around the knife handle. He grasped it tight, rolled over and sank it deep into the girl’s chest. 

Charlie stumbled to a stop and stared. The girl gasped, choked, a bubble of blood burst in her throat. Charlie wanted to look away—he knew he should look away—but somehow he couldn’t. He watched as she coughed and spluttered, as her skin turned milky white and the blood pooled around her limp form. She looked barely older than he was. And now she was dead.

David stood up straight and adjusted his funeral clothes, grimacing at the red now coating his hand. “For fuck’s sake.” He let the knife clatter to the ground beside its owner.

“What the fuck?” Charlie gasped. “David, what the actual fuck?”

Chest heaving, David put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Was that you ?”

Charlie blinked.

“The way her knife flew out of her hand,” said David. “Did you do that? I thought that once the coven was bound you couldn’t do magic on your own. Unless you have…”

Charlie closed his fist around the crystal and quickly shoved it back into his pocket. “No,” he said. “I—I thought that was you.” He shrugged. “Maybe it was both of us.”

The thought of possibly having done magic with Charlie seemed to make David feel queasy because he shuddered.

Charlie rolled his eyes. “So…” He glanced down at the dead girl, then quickly away again. “She was a witch?”

“A pretty nasty one.”

“It seemed like you two were talking. I thought you didn’t know her.”

“I don’t,” David snapped. “But I did some digging and some stalking and, well, her name was Millie. She knew a witch had died around here recently. She was here to scavenge power.”

Millie’s blood was spreading across the tarmac, mixing with the puddles left over from the rain. Charlie sighed. Just how much magic stuff was out there? Stuff he didn’t know the slightest thing about, stuff that clearly wasn’t in his or Tara’s grimoires. The thought of so many unknowns did not sit well with him.

“David, you can’t leave Truham.”

“What? I have to.”

“No, you don’t.” Charlie buried his hands deep in his jacket pockets. “We’re all bound together. I know that’s not something you want, and trust me, the feeling’s mutual, but I think we need you.”

“But you hate me.”

“Oh, I do. You just punched my boyfriend. But what I hate more is the thought of losing another friend. There’s darkness out there and it’s coming for us. It’s what killed James and my mum and your dad. We can’t do this without you. We’re not strong enough. And if we don’t at least try, then James’ death is going to seem a lot more senseless than it already does.”

David made an exasperated noise and kicked at the ground. “You’ve got all the answers, huh?”

“Doesn’t mean I like the answers,” said Charlie. “You don’t have to like it, either. You don’t have to hang out with us or anything. In fact, we’d much prefer it if you didn’t. But just… stay. And help us?” It didn’t exactly feel good to sound so pleading in front of David, especially not when he still looked so smug with blood on his hands. Charlie pushed down his own personal misgivings and let out a breath. “Surely, somewhere deep down you do actually care about your brother.”

David winced, cringing and sighed. “Ugh! Alright, alright, enough,” he groaned. “Fine. Fine, for fuck’s sake. I’ll stay. But there’s no way I’m signing up for any LGT rainbow fairy shit.”

“Oh, David. You don’t deserve rainbow fairy shit.”

✨

Nick was well and truly done with today. How could he have let things get so out of hand with David? How could he have thrown the first punch? But everything his brother did and said seemed so much worse now that Charlie was there to witness it, too. The shame cut deeper, made his stomach twist tighter, his anger boil hotter. 

He chucked the bag of ice into the freezer, then found his mum in the back office. She was lounging on the old sofa, eyes closed, a buffet plate abandoned on the table, a half-empty glass of prosecco in her hand.

“Mum?” He reached for the glass before it could be dropped, but then she opened her eyes and he realised she wasn’t actually asleep.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll be right with you, baby. I was just having a sit down.”

“I was going to ask if I could head home, but maybe I should stay.”

“No, you go, sweetheart.” She batted her hand in his general direction and set her glass down. “Things should be quietening down now, anyway. I heard talk of moving things to the pub.”

“Are you sure?”

Sarah smiled sleepily and nodded. He was glad she seemed too tired to notice the bruise currently forming on his jaw. The last thing his mum needed was another thing to stress about. Nick turned and was about to head back out the door when—

“Nicky?”

“Yes, mum?”

She picked up her prosecco again and frowned down at the bubbles. “You love Charlie.”

Nick blinked. A blush rose in his cheeks. “Yes.”

“And he loves you?”

She still didn’t look up from her drink. Her smile wasn’t exactly as cheerful as he might have expected, considering her chosen topic of discussion. “What is this about?”

She opened her mouth. Then closed it. She shook her head. Tried again. Only to come up short once more. 

Now she really had Nick’s attention. He watched her closely, eyebrows furrowed. “Mum?”

Was she about to tell him she didn’t approve of his relationship? That he was never to see Charlie again? Would they have to start sneaking out to see each other in secret? He really hoped not. That sounded exhausting. But he would do it. Of course he would.

Sarah exhaled, then patted the sofa beside her. Nick sank onto the well-worn cushions, apprehensive. His mum downed the rest of her drink and set the glass aside. “I need to tell you something,” she said. “Something important. About the Springs… and the Nelsons.”

“Okay…”

She folded her hands into her lap and cleared her throat. “When I was twelve, my dad told me I had a soulmate. That he was a year younger than me, that he went to Truham Grammar, and that we were destined to be together. His name was Julio Spring.”

A sickly feeling began to rise in Nick’s stomach. “You and Julio? Mum, please don’t tell me you and he—”

“No, no, baby.” She reached out and grasped his hand. “Goodness, don’t worry about that. We… we never…” She took a breath. “Nothing ever happened between me and him. I only had the biggest crush of my life on the poor boy. The poor man—it never really did go away. But he only ever had eyes for Jane. I still think, deep down, he chose to love her over me because it was just… easier. It wasn’t so scary to definitely, one hundred percent choose to love someone. But our families, we’ve been written in the stars for generations.”

“But what does that even mean? How could you be soulmates and not end up together? And grandma wasn’t a Spring, was she?”

“No, she wasn’t. I think the problem was that for the last several generations, including mine and your grandpa’s, the Nelsons have met their soulmates already knowing they were soulmates . There can be so much pressure, when the entire universe wants you to be with someone. I found it easy, but Julio didn’t.” She shook her head. “I wanted to break that cycle for you, Nicky. I was so excited when Charlie arrived, but I was also worried. I wanted to make sure that when you met, and if you were going to fall in love, then you would do so on your own before I told you the truth.” She smiled, her eyes shining. “And now I see that you have. And you’re just how I always pictured it since I was twelve… Soulmates, Nicky. Of course you are.”

It was nice that in telling him this, his mum seemed to have been cheered up, but Nick still felt a bit sick. He didn’t know what to say.

“I know it’s a lot to take in.” She patted his hands. “But there’s nothing to worry about, baby. It was written in the stars long before you were born, long before your grandparents were born. The universe wants you to be together. Isn’t that lovely?”

Nick nodded meekly, then mumbled an excuse to leave the room. He left his mum smiling to herself on the sofa, his head too muddled to say a proper goodnight. 

He had begun the day enthused with self-confidence—that he and Charlie were enough. Enough without David or any extra power. But now, maybe they didn’t even have control over their own feelings. If the universe was making Nick love Charlie, making him want to protect him, then the universe had all the control. Not Nick. Not Charlie. The universe. 

And that was terrifying.

✨

Charlie left David to dispose of the body. If he was willing to kill someone then he could deal with the consequences, even if the victim in question was a would-be killer herself. Charlie shoved his hands into his pockets and hurried back towards the cafe. The sun had sunk lower now and he shivered in the evening chill. He had left the wake for much longer than he’d meant to, without telling anyone where he was going. And had he just invited a murderer into their coven? Without consulting anyone first? But the others had seemed like they were coming to the same conclusion, even if that conclusion majorly sucked. Only Nick’s reaction worried him. But Charlie could protect him—he never had to go near David again, not if he didn’t want to.

He stepped into the tea room to find the wake had clearly dispersed, only empty cups and plates remaining. The residual image of blood pooling around Millie’s face clinged to the edges of his mind.

“Nick?” His voice rang out, small and unsteady in the quiet. He was about to take out his phone when the door behind the counter opened and Nick stepped inside. “There you are.” Charlie was around the counter and flinging himself into Nick’s arms before he could remember he wasn’t really supposed to be back there.

Nick jolted, surprised at the sudden onslaught, before his arms fell naturally around him. “Have you been outside? You feel cold.”

“Listen…” Their arms remained around each other as Charlie told him all about David and Millie, how he had followed them into the alley and watched them fight. How David had stabbed her. “He said she was here because of James, to scavenge his power somehow… I don’t really understand how it works but… I think… I’m really sorry to say this, especially after that fight, but I think we might need him. For now, anyway. We just don’t know anything about this and he seems to.” Charlie frowned. “Nick? Are you alright? Is it your jaw?” He reached up to inspect the bruise, but Nick pulled away, shaking his head. “Nick? What is it?”

For the first time since he’d entered the cafe, Charlie noticed just how worried and lost Nick seemed. There was a faraway look in his eyes and Charlie hated himself for not seeing it sooner. 

Nick grimaced and looked at his feet. “Charlie… Do you love me?” 

A nervous laugh escaped Charlie as his heart dipped. “Of course I do. You know I do. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, I think so… a-and I love you.”

Charlie looked from his flushed face to his nervous hands. “You don’t sound very sure.”

“I am,” said Nick quickly. “I was. I mean—Ugh!” He scrubbed a hand across his face, through his hair.

“Nick, you’re kind of scaring me… What is this about?”

Nick let his hand drop to his side, took a breath, then looked up at Charlie, something intense but unfamiliar in his brown eyes. “Charlie, I think we’re soulmates.”

Charlie blinked. “What?” He plucked at the front of Nick’s jacket and giggled. “Oh, you’re just being sappy. Okay, sure, we’re soulmates. Our love is written in the stars, got it.”

“I’m serious, Char. My mum just told me.”

Charlie’s laughter died on his lips. “W-what?”

“Yeah… Apparently our families have been destined to be together forever. But it never worked out before because they all knew they were soulmates before they met and I dunno—I guess it freaked them out.” Nick trailed off. He began to pace, hands tugging at his hair. “Like, I kind of understand it, there’s so much pressure from the entire universe to be happy with one specific person…” He turned back to Charlie, that strange look still in his eyes. “Charlie, please say something.”

“I—I don’t know what to say…” His head reeled as he tried to wrap it around this new information. “This is all just a lot.” A deep, horrible dread dropped itself into Charlie’s stomach and was rising into his chest. 

“I know,” Nick gasped. “I know. We only met six weeks ago. We got together after three weeks and we said I love you four days later. Our relationship, it’s moved so fast.”

“What are you saying?” Charlie couldn’t help the panic which rose along with his voice. “I do love you. I didn’t make that up. I know it’s been fast but… I dunno… I’ve never been in a relationship before—”

“I love you, too!” Nick cried. His breath caught, as if he hadn’t meant to shout quite so loudly. He swallowed thickly and swiped at his face. “I’ve loved you from the moment I met you—before then, really—and that’s not normal, Char.”

“B-but it feels good,” said Charlie. “It feels right. Doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Nick insisted. “I love loving you but at the same time t-to feel so strongly about someone the way I do about you, so quickly and intensely… Is that normal? Is that us or is it…?”

A sob snuck up on Charlie and he clamped a hand over his own mouth. He turned aside, away from Nick’s tearfilled gaze. “You think it’s not us? You think it’s something else, some outside force, making us feel this way?”

“I don’t fucking know.” Nick’s tears were suddenly falling thick and fast. “W-when I thought you were going to d-die, I felt like I was going to die.”

“Oh, Nick…” 

The intensity of their emotions had often struck Charlie, he couldn’t pretend they hadn’t. He would die for Nick, he knew that with some certainty. And the knowledge that Nick felt the same way about him still boggled his mind every day. Every time he looked at him with those big, puppy-dog eyes full of hearts and adoration, Charlie had to internally pinch himself that those emotions were all for him. And how many times had their friends teased them about how attached at the hip—or at the lips—they constantly were? It had been fast, and it had been intense. It had been everything good and right and perfect.

But maybe that was the problem.

Charlie should have known.

Nothing was ever perfect.

Charlie reached out, to hold him in his arms. But Nick stepped away. In his shock, Charlie flinched and wrapped his arms instead around himself. He could barely look at him, the sound of his stuttered crying was shredding his heart to pieces well enough without seeing his face.

“I think—” Nick gasped. “I think I need some time. T-to think about this.”

“You’re breaking up with me?”

“No!” Nick reached out for Charlie’s arm—but he stepped back that time, hugged himself even tighter. “No, god. Oh, fuck, no, Char—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just need—I really need—”

“Some time.” Charlie nodded and took another step back. “Okay. That’s okay.”

“Charlie… I’m so so sorry.”

“No s-words.” His tears stopped. The ones remaining on his cheeks grew cold. “I don’t want us to be together if every time we’re wondering whether it’s by choice or because it’s our destiny.” He turned to the door. “We’ll figure this out, Nick, and then we’ll be okay.”

But not yet.

The tinkle of the doorbell mocked Charlie as he left the tea room in favour of the cold outside. Before he had rounded the first corner, he was sobbing. He didn’t stop all the way home, not even when he broke into a run. He wanted to hurt, he wanted to ache, not just on the inside. In his bedroom, he could barely breathe. Still in his funeral clothes, he fell into bed and cried himself to sleep.

✨

In the bowels of the cathedral lay a series of underground rooms. There was of course the usual catacombs and cellars, but the steps David climbed down were much less historically interesting. They were as dark and cold as any tomb but made of metal which echoed at every footfall.

The room beneath was much the same. Concrete walls, metal tables. Two uncomfortable chairs, though only one was occupied when David entered the otherwise empty room. The young man scrutinised him, arms folded, his signature a smirk across his face making David’s skin crawl. 

“You killed Millie. Why?” Harry Greene was four years younger than he was—and nothing but a spoilt brat.

“You mean aside from the fact she tried to gut me with a knife?”

“Don’t get smart with me, David. I’ll gut you myself.” Harry got to his feet and much to his own shame, David flinched. Harry rolled his eyes. “You killed a fellow witch hunter. Why ?”

“The Spring boy saw her talking to me. I lied and said she was a witch, but it could have been a disaster. I was just following protocol, like always.”

“Well, maybe she was right.” Harry began to pace, his hands behind his back, playing General just like he always did. “Maybe we made a mistake, using a witch to kill witches. Especially when one of his own blood is connected to the prey.”

“I’ve never let you down before,” said David. “And I won’t start now.”

Harry stopped his pacing to study him once again. “Are you sure of that?” His cocky little smirk grew. “Because I heard Charlie Spring is a compelling boy—bending all sorts of straight lads to his will.”

“Don’t be vile.”

Harry chuckled.

David shot him a glare. “I’ve come here to avenge my dad’s death, to rid Truham of witches—and I will not fail.”

Chapter Text

chapter thirteen: add blood, set it on fire

Charlie followed Tao and Elle into Blackwood’s, a quirky little antiques shop, hands deep in his coat pockets, scarf wrapped up to his ears. He wasn’t sure whether it was the weather which had gotten bleaker or if his misery had transposed externally, too. 

So far the long-awaited October half-term had been shit. It had been four whole days since Charlie had spoken to or seen Nick. With no school to attend, there really shouldn’t have been any reason for them not to spend all their free time together as they had planned. Or at least as Charlie had been planning since they got together. Now it was Halloween and he was miserable. As much as he respected Nick’s wish to take some time to think things through, Charlie felt his absence like a physical ache.

It was warmer in the shop and it did have some cute Halloween decorations. 

“You need to come to this party,” said Elle for the tenth time that day. “And you need to talk to your boyfriend.”

Charlie sighed. He didn’t need Elle’s encouragement. He’d already cobbled together a last minute pirate costume, complete with a toy parrot he’d velcroed to the shoulder of his shirt. He had wanted to ask Nick if he’d be a pirate, too, but he actually had no idea what Nick’s costume plans were. It was their first Halloween as a couple… and the universe had ruined it. 

The three friends wandered the small, cluttered aisles, stopping to inspect displays of crystals and gems, goblets and chalices, vintage statues and jewellery. Tao reached to check the price of a necklace hanging on a stand and winced at the extortionate figure. He caught sight of Charlie’s face and slung an arm around his shoulders. “I don’t get what happened between you two,” he said. “Is being soulmates really that bad? Surely it’s just more proof that you’re meant to be.”

“It’s not that simple.” Charlie shook his head and moved along after Elle. 

“I understand why the idea freaked you both out,” she said with a sad smile. “Because, like, who knows whether it’s you who feels that way or if it’s some massive, outside force?”

He pulled himself away from his friends’ attempt at comfort and drifted over to the far wall where a glass cabinet stood, full of much older looking antiques. He had told himself the same things multiple times over the past four days—but hearing them spoken aloud like that… It made his hackles rise and a fire crackle in his chest. Because of course he and Nick were meant to be together. It had been the truest thing in the world until… until it suddenly hadn’t been.

Charlie looked through the glass at an intricate display of knives. Some were more elaborate than others, while some looked very old indeed. He looked around for a label or a description but found only more extortionate price tags.

“I bet you anything,” Tao murmured from somewhere behind him. “That by the end of this Halloween party, they’ll have disappeared to have make-up sex and all will be back as it should be.”

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the sounds of his friends’ giggling. But then he heard them share a brief kiss and he fought not to cry. He had been so weepy lately it was getting ridiculous. The jumper Nick had left behind in his bed only did so much to soak it all up.

“Oh, Charlie,” said Elle. “We’re sorry.”

He looked around, caught a second before a public breakdown. Tao and Elle had come out from behind the shelves. “Come here.” Tao held out his arms and Elle joined him in wrapping Charlie into a hug. Elle rubbed a hand down his back and he buried his head in Tao’s shoulder. With their arms around him, he sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly. 

“I know it sucks,” said Tao. “It sucks so much. But you’re doing your best, Charlie.”
“Right,” said Elle. “You are being the best boyfriend, giving Nick the time he needs.” 

“Honestly, I think you’re being a little too good,” said Tao. “I know you said you didn’t want me to, but I’m still willing to march over to his house and yell at him to get a move on, if you want. I promise I’ll do it.”

Their hug broke and Charlie scrubbed at his damp eyes. “Please don’t do that. I don’t want to force Nick to do anything he isn’t comfortable with, including be around me. I just miss him.”

“Well,” said Elle. “He can’t avoid you forever. I’m surprised he’s managed it this long, to be honest.”

“Because,” Tao chided. “Neither of you have left your houses all half term. How are you meant to get back to being insufferably in love if you can’t remember what each other looks like?”

“Oh, I remember,” Charlie murmured.

“Which is why this party is such a good idea,” said Elle. “I need you two back together before I lose all faith in the universe at all.”

Charlie looked down at his feet. He wished he could spend another day wrapped up in his bed, watching sad YouTube videos and listening to even sadder songs. Elle let out a sigh and hooked an arm around his. He let her guide him along the next aisle of the shop. The shelves were stacked with all manner of spooky accoutrement. But he didn’t even have the capacity to jump when an animatronic zombie burst from a large, plastic coffin.

“Ooh! Look at these!” Elle pulled him over to a section filled with fairy lights, all of them shaped like little pumpkins, bats and ghosts. “These are so cute. What do you think, Charlie?”

“Yeah,” he managed. “They’re—they’re good. We should get some.”

They utilised Tao’s long arms to gather some pumpkin lights, an abundance of bunting and streamers, and a large bowl with a skeleton hand as the base they thought would make a nice centrepiece. By the till, Charlie spotted a little figurine of a border collie in a witch’s hat and quickly shoved it onto the counter with the rest of their items.

The shopkeeper typed everything manually into the till, his spectacles perched dangerously close to the edge of his long nose. The badge attached to his waistcoat named him Eric . His grey eyes drifted to take in each of his young customers, a gentle smile on his face. “Planning a party for tonight?” 

“Yep,” said Tao. “It’s gonna be epic. And very spooky!”

Eric handed the dog figurine directly to Charlie, then frowned at him over his glasses. “Young man, do I know you from somewhere?”

“I—I don’t think so,” said Charlie. “You might have known my dad. Julio Spring.”

Eric’s face dropped. There was a shattering of glass and the ornate mirror on the wall behind the counter smashed.

Tao and Elle quickly gathered their purchases. Charlie hurried after them. 

“What the fuck was that?” Tao gasped once they had left the shop behind.

“That mirror just exploded,” said Elle. “Do you think that guy’s a witch? Or did we do that? Charlie?”

She and Tao turned to find Charlie had stopped following them. “I—I think I’m just gonna head home.”

Tao sighed. “You can’t hide in your room forever.”

“I know,” said Charlie. “I’m not going to. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Aware of their twin expressions of concern, he turned away and headed in the opposite direction down the road. He did appreciate their sympathy but their morning in town had been strangely exhausting. He felt like his brain was half-fried, half on overdrive, and the incident with the shopkeeper only added to his load. 

Charlie was thankful to find his grandmother in the kitchen when he got home. She hadn’t left for her trip yet, thank goodness, though her case was sitting in the hall by the door.

“Blackwood’s,” said Kathleen when he told her about what had happened. “It’s been there as long as I can remember.”

“The man who works there, Eric, he seemed to know me. Or at least he knew my dad.”

“Eric Blackwood. He owns the place.”

“Is he one of us?” asked Charlie. “Is he a witch?”

“Yes,” said Kathleen. “Why? Did he say anything to you?”

“Only that he recognised me. I told him who my dad was and he looked so terrified—and then the mirror behind him shattered. It was really weird.”

“Hmm… well, it could have been a random surge, I suppose. Sometimes it happens when powers cross by mistake.”

Charlie perched on the edge of a chair. “How many witches are there in Truham?”

“It’s hard to know exactly. People tend to be very private about it, but there’s definitely a lot less than there used to be. After the barn fire, everyone stopped practising. Many families left town.”

“Right,” said Charlie. “Like us.”

Kathleen smiled sadly. “I’d better get going,” she said, with a squeeze to his shoulder. He got up and followed her out into the hall. “It’s a long drive to Hassan’s house. You sure you’re going to be okay here on your own?”

Charlie shrugged. “I’ll be fine.” He knew his grandmother had been worried about him more than usual over the past few days. “Hassan’s an elder, too, right? I thought you didn’t want to tell anyone about the coven—especially the elders.”

“I’m not going to tell him about the coven, don’t worry. But I haven’t heard from him in weeks, and I’m worried.” Kathleen collected her coat. “You’re spending tonight with friends, right?”

“Yeah… Nick’s doing a very low-key Halloween thing at his house. We’ll probably just watch horror films and hand out sweets to trick-or-treaters.”

He had told his grandmother he and Nick were on a break, though he hadn’t told her exactly why. Somehow, the idea seemed embarrassing, like she would think they were making a big deal out of nothing. She was a witch, she believed in magic, clearly, but destiny? He didn’t think he could deal with anyone else’s theories or ideas about what soulmates meant. His own were enough.

She shrugged on her coat and gave him a withering look. “Talk to him, Charlie. I’m sure whatever has happened between you is easily fixed. You’re both so in love.”

Charlie opened his mouth but his words got stuck in his throat. Kathleen stroked his cheek with her thumb, then pulled him into a hug. “Have a lovely time. Text me if you need anything, alright?”

“Alright. Bye, gran.”

She hefted her bag and left the house. The door snapped shut behind her and Charlie sighed. His hand closed around the small figurine dog in his pocket and he took it out. His intention had been to gift it to Nick, but for now, he supposed it would serve as a reminder—a reminder and a goal. To sort his brain out and talk to his boyfriend.

✨

Maybe cookies, biscuits, cupcakes and brownies had been too much. Especially when he’d made variations of all of them. He’d definitely thought it was enough last night when he’d set the brownies in the cupboard with the rest. Only, this morning Nick had finally managed to heave himself out of bed with the idea of making shortbread ghosts. They were easy enough and he had all the ingredients. Baking at home had become kind of a pain since becoming accustomed to the space and equipment the cafe provided, but with Nellie trotting around his feet, nothing could be more calming.

And few things had truly been calming for the last four days.

“Morning,” said Sarah as she entered the kitchen. “How are you feeling today?” 

Nick merely grumbled incoherently and continued to knead the mixture. His mother’s frown burned the back of his head.

“Nicky…” She sighed. “Please, talk to me. It’s almost the end of half-term and you’ve barely left the house.”

Before he could shove it down, anger flared in Nick’s chest. “This is your fault.”

“What?”

“You’ve—god—you’ve messed everything up!” He jabbed his fist into the shortbread mixture a little harder than necessary. “You’ve messed with my head. Everything was so perfect and incredible and—and—why would you tell me?” He made an effort to take a deep breath, then turned slowly to face his mum. “Why couldn’t you have just never told me?”

Her face fell in realisation. “Is this about Charlie?”

He had to bite his tongue. It wasn’t her fault she had no idea what was going on. He had left her in the dark since the wake. He pulled the excess dough from his fingers and flung the pieces into the bowl. “I love him. Everything has been so much lately. He was the one thing that made sense, that was easy and good, and you came along and you made him complicated, too.”

Sarah looked horrified. “You haven’t broken up?”

Nick grimaced. “No, but if I don’t wrap my head around this soon, Charlie might… he’d have every right to ditch me for good.”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think… I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought I was protecting you from all this—this heartache. I see now maybe I was mistaken.” She moved closer to his side and reached for his arm. He jerked away to tip the shortbread mixture into the tin. “Is he coming to the party?”

“I think so.”

“Well, then, maybe you can talk to him tonight. Surely, when you see him, everything will make sense again.”

Nick’s heart fluttered at the thought. He knew he got his sappy tendencies from somewhere, but still… “I want to see him, of course I do, but I’m scared.”

Sarah shouldered the overnight bag she had packed to visit her sister. She had been reluctant to leave him alone for the night before, but now… She watched him put the shortbread into the oven, then reached out for a hug. He stepped forward into her arms and she patted his back. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’ve got to trust in the universe, Nicky. It wants you and Charlie to be together.”

His arms tightened around her for a second before he let her go again. “That’s the problem,” he said, his jaw tight. “I want to trust in him, in us, not in the universe. Nobody should have a say in what we do or think or feel. Nobody but me and him.”

She reached out a hand to stroke his cheek, but he flinched away. With a sigh, Sarah hefted her bag and turned to the door.

“Did you ever love him?”

Sarah turned back, confused.

“Dad.” Nick picked at the flour crusting beneath his fingernails. “Because the way you talk about Julio, it doesn’t seem like it.”

“Your dad was a complicated man,” said Sarah. “But yes, I think I did love him.”

“But he wasn’t your soulmate.”

“No. As much as I didn’t originally want to choose someone else, I did. You can choose to love someone else, Nicky, it isn’t all black and white.”

He swallowed thickly. “I wouldn’t. I would choose him every time.”

“Well, then,” said Sarah. “There you go. You love him because you love him, not because anyone told you you should.”

Nick turned back to his creation baking in the oven. He listened to the front door open and shut, heard the key click in the lock. Heard his mother’s car pull out of the drive. He was kind of glad she was going away for a bit, though he hoped, as he watched the ghosts through the oven door, that her words were true.

✨

Before, Charlie had loved how close Nick’s house was to his own. Now, he wished it were further away, if only so he had more time to psych himself up. He was going to have to pop back home to get changed for the party anyway, but he’d agreed to help with the set-up and, well, he was determined not to chicken out—just like he’d been doing all half-term. The shopping trip this morning had been a test, a way to dip his toe back in with Tao and Elle, whose affection for him didn’t stem from anything but friendship. 

As he walked, he tried to focus on the longing to be near Nick again, rather than the worry about what he might say. But ten minutes later, Charlie knocked on the Nelsons’ front door and all of his determination fell away. He was kind of relieved when it was Tara who answered. She pulled him inside with a cheerful smile and gave him a quick hug. “I’m so glad you’re here! There’s so much to do. Come on, we’re in the kitchen.”

Every inch of the counter space was taken up by plates and dishes of various Halloween-themed treats and drinks. Darcy and Isaac were busy straightening a bright orange cloth over the dining room table, all of the chairs having been pulled out and lined up along one wall. 

“Charlie!” Darcy exclaimed. “How are we doing, my guy?”

Charlie peered around the room, listening for any sounds from upstairs. “Where’s Nick?”

“He seemed to think it imperative that we had spooky-themed napkins,” said Isaac, rolling his eyes. “He’s gone to Tesco.”

“I’d say he wasn’t avoiding you if I didn’t think he absolutely was,” said Darcy. “But don’t worry, we can pin him down somewhere later and make him see sense.”

“Right,” said Tara. “He’s being an idiot.”

Charlie wandered over to pick up a plate of ghost-shaped shortbread biscuits. They were so cute and perfectly decorated with chocolate sprinkles for eyes. “He’s not an idiot.” 

He set them down on the table and Tara turned to help. She picked up another plate and gasped. “Look at these cupcakes! They are so cool—little zombies with a gooey filling.”

Charlie couldn’t help but smile. “Kind of like me. I feel like a zombie with a gooey filling.”

Tara snorted. “Gross.”

“I didn’t mean—” Charlie laughed. “Tara, I meant because I’m grumpy on the outside and soft in the middle.”

Darcy cackled and threw their arms around Tara as she blushed. “Aw, babe, did you think he was talking about his sp—”

“Okay,” Tara cut in. She patted Darcy’s shoulder. “That’s just your dirty mind, my love.”

“Hmm… I thought you liked my dirty mind…”

The two of them stumbled into the living room and disappeared onto the sofa. Charlie looked down at a plate of sandwiches cut into pumpkin shapes and took a deep breath. A bump against his shoulder made him look up into Isaac’s kind face. “Are you sure you’re doing alright? We haven’t heard from you all half-term. Did you and Nick really break up?”

Charlie grimaced. “No. Not really. I—I thought everyone was told on the group chat.”

“We were, I just…  didn’t think it was that big a deal. I mean, if there was evidence for the existence of soulmates, it would be you and Nick. I could have told you that weeks ago.”

“It’s… it’s a nice idea, soulmates,” said Charlie. “In principle, it should be the ideal situation. But in reality… it’s terrifying and huge and, like, I don’t feel in control of anything anymore.” A lump was forming in his throat. He scrubbed a sleeve over his eyes. “Look, sorry, please can we talk about something else? I just want to have a nice day.”

“Okay,” said Isaac. “Sorry, yeah… I kind of want that too. After James… I dunno, it feels weird to be having fun without him but I know he wouldn’t want us to be miserable, at least not for too long.”

“Right, god… I’m so sorry, Isaac.”

“Hey, shush.” Isaac pulled him into a side hug. “Life goes on, doesn’t it? Even if you’re really testing my ability to believe in romance right now.”

Charlie chuckled wetly and turned back to the food. He picked up a plate just as the doorbell rang—causing him to promptly drop it again.  “Shit.” He plucked the fallen cookies back into place and whirled around. Tara and Darcy were still absorbed in each other on the sofa. Isaac sighed. “I’ll get it then, I suppose.”

Charlie watched Isaac leave the room, heart thudding madly in his chest. But then, as he heard Tao and Elle’s voices, he realised of course it wasn’t Nick. This was his house. He would have no reason to knock.

Tao and Elle had come straight from town, ladened down not just with the bags from Blackwood’s but many others, too. 

“What the fuck is that?” Darcy pulled themself away from Tara. Tao had also acquired a massive, life-sized skeleton, which Darcy grabbed at once from his arms. “I love it.”

“I got it from the drama department at school,” said Tao. “Their name is Ray. X-Ray. You know, like an x-ray?”

“I think they get it, Tao.” Elle smirked. “I hope you realise Ray is not coming home with us. There isn’t room in your bed for three.”

“I think we can fit another,” said Darcy, giggling. “What do you think, Tara?”

“I think you lot are weird and maybe Ray deserves better.” Tara helped Darcy lift the skeleton into a chair and sat them at the head of the buffet table. 

As the others cooed and exclaimed their enthusiasm over the decorations they had bought, Charlie kept his distance. He grabbed all the drinks he could find and arranged them neatly on a spare stretch of counter. He made sure all their labels were clearly visible, then arranged them in height order, then colour order, then alphabetically. He then set about searching for cups, but couldn’t find any in the kitchen. There were glasses and mugs, but he didn’t think Sarah would appreciate them being used, broken or stolen by the many teenagers about to swarm her house. 

He closed the cupboard door and set off, unnoticed, into the hallway where he knew the sideboard contained other kitchenware. He opened the cabinet doors and found several stacks of paper cups complete with cobweb designs. Perfect. But then something else caught his eye. Something small and wooden, lying on the floor, kicked slightly under the sideboard.

Charlie reached down and picked it up. “Oh my god.”

Elle stepped down from the chair she’d been standing on to attach streamers to the kitchen door frame. “What’s up?” 

“This is a part of the knife Millie used to attack me. A part of the handle. It must have broken off.”

“Wow,” said Elle. “It looks really old.”

“Yeah.” Charlie rubbed a thumb over the wood. There was something engraved into it, though it was faded with wear.

“Hang on,” said Elle. “Isn’t that?”

“A ‘C’.” Charlie nodded. “For conquest. Just like the one she burned into the ground.”

“That definitely was her, then.”

“Seems like it.” He closed the piece of wood in his hand. “I’ve got to go.”

“What? Charlie, what about the—?”

“I’ll be back later, I promise.” He grabbed his coat and shrugged it on. “Tell the others what I found. I’ll see you later.”

He hurried out of the house and down the Nelsons’ driveway. A car had pulled up on the pavement outside. He slowed as he neared it. The door opened and David stepped out.

Charlie stopped dead. 

So did David. “Happy Halloween,” he said, sarcastically. “First one as a witch, very important.”

“Hmph.” Charlie may have invited David into their coven, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

“What’s that?”

Charlie realised he hadn’t even tried to hide the piece of broken knife. He considered lying about it, but then, David had already gotten an eyeful anyway. “I, um, found this in your hallway. It’s from the knife Millie used to attack me.” He quickly pocketed it and made to leave.

“Where are you taking it?”

He turned back to David with a sigh. “Blackwood’s. That antiques shop in town. I thought I saw some knives that were sort of similar in there earlier. Maybe Eric can tell me more.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” David shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and regarded him with some disdain. “And besides, that witch is dead now, so, why does it matter?”

“I won’t tell him anything about us, I’m not stupid,” said Charlie. “I’m just sick of being sidelined by so much magic shit. I want to know as much as I can. For all our sakes.”

✨

David waited for Charlie to disappear around the corner before climbing back into his car. He had been testing the speed cameras around Truham since he’d been old enough to drive, and so he made it across town to Blackwood’s with time to spare. He parked on double yellow lines outside the shop and strode inside. The bell tinkled over the door, but the front counter was empty. He crept around it and peered through the curtained door beyond.

Inside the little office sat Eric, eating a sandwich at the small desk. He looked up mid-bite and jumped. “Sorry,” he gasped. “I’m closed for lunch. I thought I’d locked up.”

“You did,” said David. “Eric Blackwood, right?”

The man put down his sandwich and dusted off his fingers. “That’s right.”

“The Blackwoods have been around here for a long time, haven’t they?”

Eric got to his feet. “Yes. Since the sixteen hundreds.”

David placed his hands behind his back, neutral. Casual. “Maybe you knew my dad? Stéphane Fournier.”

“No.”

“I didn’t really know him, either. I was pretty young when he was killed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Me, too,” said David. “But that’s not why I’m here.” He looked the shopkeeper in the eye and asked as casually as he could, “Do you have any witch cruets?”

The man reacted exactly as expected. With shock and fear. “Excuse me?”

“I have a few,” said David. He slipped a small glass jar from his jacket pocket and shook it so Eric could see the root inside. “But I’m always looking for more. I use them for salad, but apparently, they’re good for killing witches, too.” 

He set the jar on the desk and relished in Eric’s horrified stare, at the bob of his throat as he swallowed. “O-oh,” the man trembled. “Is that so?”

Two swift steps and David was around the desk. 

He grabbed Eric by the back of his neck and shoved him face-down onto the desk. “All you need is some mandrake root and some blood.” 

He held Eric down with one hand, then took out a knife. One with a C engraved into the wooden handle. With a quick slash downwards, he cut Eric’s arm and splashed several drops of blood into the jar. 

“Then, as long as the cruet’s been spelled, all you have to do is drop in a match and—ding dong, the witch is dead.” He let go of the man’s neck and stepped aside. “But you knew that, didn’t you?” 

The poor man was pale and trembling from head to foot, perspiration shining on his forehead. 

“You’re not a very powerful witch, are you, Eric?”

But the man did manage to hold his gaze, even as David took out a match and struck it. Even as he held it over the jar, illuminating the inside, the blood and the root. “If Charlie Spring comes here asking questions, all you’re going to tell him is I don’t know. Got it?”

Eric nodded a terrified nod. “Yes. I swear it.”

“Good.” David shook the match out, then picked up the cruet. “Probably for the best you don’t stock these in your shop. They can be very dangerous.”

He exited with a smirk, leaving Eric Blackwood shaken to the core.

✨

He didn’t blame Nick for running away and hiding at Tesco. After all, he was doing the same. Their friends meant well but none of them could quite understand what they were going through. The brisk chill of the walk back into town mixed with the thrill of a new mission cleared Charlie’s mind and let some determination into his spirit. He stepped into Blackwood’s shop and headed straight for the counter. It was empty. 

“Mr Blackwood?”

Charlie peered around at the darkened shelves. He spied the cabinet in the corner, but before he could move to get a closer look, the curtained doorway behind the counter fluttered aside and Eric emerged.

“You were here this morning.” He didn’t seem surprised to see him.

“Yes,” said Charlie. “I have something to show you.” He reached into his pocket and drew out the wooden shard.

Eric’s eyes widened. He stepped further behind the counter, grabbed a random pile of papers and began to sort them. “I’m a little busy right now.”

“Oh. Sorry, but would you mind just having a quick look? Please?” Charlie stepped up to the counter and held the shard out in his palm so the engraved C was clearly visible.

For half a second, Eric glanced at it before looking away again, his forehead shining. His skin had acquired a paler hue since earlier. Maybe he was coming down with something.

“I don’t know,” said Eric. “I wish I could be of more help.”

Charlie blinked. He had expected more—at least some further inspection, some interest. The man ran an antiques shop, after all. “That’s… that’s okay. If you think of anything then, um…” Charlie spotted a notepad and pen sitting on the counter and grabbed them. “Here,” he said. “Please call me.” He scribbled down his name and number, then pushed the pad back into place.

Eric looked down at the paper as if the sight terrified him. He managed a timid nod. “Alright.” He shot Charlie a nervous smile, then retreated again into the back room.

Charlie stared after him for several seconds, hoping the man would return and change his mind. But he didn’t. Charlie sighed. He’d been so sure Eric would be able to help. Perhaps he didn’t actually know anything about antiques—perhaps he’d only inherited the business and had no real interest in it like his ancestors. 

Charlie turned to leave but then he remembered the cabinet. He glanced briefly down each aisle, checking he was truly alone in the shop. He was. 

He moved into the corner and peered through the glass at the antique knives. There had to be at least fifty, of all shapes and sizes, age and quality. Some had very elaborately decorated handles, others resembled the ones in his grandmother’s cutlery drawer. He lifted the piece of broken handle and compared it to each knife on display. The wood was simple and roughly carved, the engraving faded but specific. The end was rounded with a little point to the left, kind of like a tooth. That was what helped him identify the match. 

In the very back corner of the cabinet lay a completely intact version of the one in his hand. His breath caught and he double-checked. Triple checked. Same wood. Same shape. Same C engraving. The blade was thin and wickedly sharp, just like the one that had sliced into his arm. And, Charlie saw, the completed handle in fact had two symbols engraved upon it. As well as the C for conquest, above it was a shield-shaped marking with a wonky cross through it. The label attached read: Price upon request . 

Charlie glanced around, worried someone had entered without him noticing. But the shop was still empty beside him. He took out his phone and snapped several photos of the complete knife. He made sure the photos were as clear as they could be, then hurried from the shop.

Maybe his trip hadn’t been a total waste after all. Maybe he didn’t need Eric Blackwood to give him the answers, maybe he could find them for himself. What he needed now was a rune dictionary—like the one the coven kept in the cottage. Charlie checked the time. The party didn’t start for another several hours. He was on a roll, the adrenaline of success blurring his worries and fears, his loneliness. 

He set off across town, towards the woods. Along the way, he kept taking the shard from his pocket, studying it with the photos on his phone. They were definitely the same. He hadn’t been imagining things. Where had Eric found this intact one? Maybe Eric really didn’t know what it was, otherwise, why would he have put it up for sale?

Through the trees, the darkening woods didn’t spook him in the slightest anymore. Somehow the abandoned cottage in the middle of them had become one of the few places he felt at home. 

Inside, he gathered all the books he could find which mentioned runes and magical symbols, pulled a blanket over himself and settled onto a sofa to search. He hefted the first volume onto his lap and wiggled his toes under the blanket, feeling so cosy and comfortable. Despite the wind whistling through the gaps in the windows, despite the limited insulation of the old cottage, he smiled to himself, almost content for the first time in days.

There was a small crash of pottery breaking, then a muffled shout—“Shit!”

Charlie looked around with a start. He’d thought he’d been alone. But, no, there in the kitchen-greenhouse door, was Nick, a plant pot in pieces at his feet, earth spilt over the floorboards.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

God, he looked incredible. So adorable and flustered, his hoodie dusted with earth, the tips of his fingers green. The bruise on his chin had yellowed and looked to be healing nicely. He did look tired. Exhausted, really.

Nick ducked down and gathered the fallen plant. “Sorry,” he whispered to it. 

Charlie’s heart squeezed with longing and regret and adoration. “Nick…”

He looked up from the plant at once. “Yeah?”

Charlie glanced back down at his book. He hadn’t really known what he was going to say, only that his heart had been so full of love for this boy that he’d wanted to say something, even if it was just his name.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were at Tesco buying napkins.”

“Oh. Um, well, I… I did get napkins,” said Nick. “I was going to head back home in a bit… I just needed some space, away from the others. And I needed to water the plants, so…”

Charlie watched him potter about, placing the plant into a new pot with new soil, then cleaning up the fallen earth and the broken shards. He brushed his hands off on his jeans, then sank onto the sofa opposite Charlie, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be that close to him. Or maybe he thought he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself if he sat any closer. It was a struggle for Charlie not to just abandon his research and re-acquaint himself with the way it felt to kiss him.

“What are you doing here?” Nick asked gently. “What are you reading?”

Charlie tore his gaze away from Nick’s lips and handed over the broken knife handle. He explained what it was, where he’d found it and about the duplicate he’d discovered in Blackwood’s shop. He showed him the photos on his phone.

Charlie pointed to the shield with its wonky cross. “Have you ever seen this rune before?” 

“It does look kind of familiar.”

Charlie flicked through a few more pages in the book in his lap. “I’m beginning to think it’s not actually a rune. Or at least not one from an alphabet in here.”

“I think you’re right,” said Nick. “Hang on, let me check something.” 

Nick carefully set the phone and the shard on the coffee table, then got up to cross the room to the stairs. He pushed aside the floorboard of the third step up and took out Tara’s grimoire. 

“Be careful if you ever use these stairs, Char,” he said, coming back over. “That step can get a bit wobbly if someone doesn’t put the board back properly.”

“Noted, but I’m probably going to forget.”

“Hmm… all of us have tripped on it at some point. I suppose it’s a rite of passage.”

And this time, Nick sat down beside Charlie and, out of habit, Charlie’s heart flipped over. Also out of habit, they leaned in closer together—so they could both look at the grimoire, of course. But Nick smelled so good, so familiar and comforting. Like earth and tea and boy. He wanted to turn his head to the side, bury his nose in Nick’s neck and inhale forever. He wanted to bundle them both up in the blanket over his lap and live there in the way Nick made him feel, in the feeling of them, together and warm.

Charlie gave his head a little shake. Nick was busy flicking through the grimoire, almost hyper-focused on the task at hand. Charlie wondered whether his heart was beating as loud and as fast as his own.

“Here.” Nick jabbed his finger at one page and Charlie peered down at it. “I knew it. You were right. It isn’t a rune.”

“It’s a… crest?” Charlie squinted at the chicken-scratch handwriting clearly penned hundreds of years ago. “Of the Hopkins family?”

Nick grabbed Charlie’s phone and held the photo up beside the illustration in the book. The wonky cross did make a sort of letter H, Charlie realised, though he’d thought it was a crossbow before.

“This says the design only started out as a family crest,” said Nick, reading the opposite page. “But now it’s used by the Hopkins Society. I’ve never even heard of that.”

“Me neither.” Charlie looked closer at the drawing of the crest in the book. The ink was worn, faint, as if this entry was one of the very oldest. He ran a fingertip along the bottom of the drawing where he could just about make out a series of words. “What does that say?”

“I dunno,” said Nick, leaning in closer. “Looks like Latin—ouch, sorry!”

Their heads bonked together and Charlie giggled. “Sorry.”

“Oh wow, is your massive nerd brain finally going to come in useful?” Nick teased. “Come on, dead language boy, tell me what does it say?”

Charlie stuck out his tongue. “You’d be so lost without me.” He turned back to the tiny black lettering, missing the way Nick’s face dropped, missing the way Nick’s breath caught. “Hmm… Maleficos … non patieris … vivere . Shit.”

“What?”

“Holy shit.”

“Charlie, what does that mean?”

“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”

Nick stared at him, horror dawning. “Shit.”

“That girl, she wasn’t a witch,” said Charlie. “She was a witch hunter.”

✨

Back in the bowels of the cathedral, where not even the porters knew to look, David set out eight empty jars. Along the metal table, he counted out eight sprigs of dried mandrake root and added one to each. All the while, he could feel Harry’s mild but irritating gaze upon him, like an itch on the back of his head. 

Though he was still only seventeen, Harry’s father had handed over the reins of the Kent faction early. Mr Greene saw himself as far too important in his normal-life career to sully himself with the dirty work of the Hopkins Society any longer. Harry still consulted with his dad when he needed advice, but when all was said and done, he really didn’t know what he was doing most of the time.

“As angry as you were at Millie for speeding through the process,” said Harry, leaning against the table. “At least she took care of the marking. Now you don’t have to.”

“Millie ignored the plan entirely,” said David. “She could have ruined everything. If you kill a bound witch the wrong way, their powers can pass onto their fellow covenmates, making them stronger. We can’t afford mistakes.”

“Which is why,” said Harry. “Some of us are a little worried about a plan which hinges solely on you.”

David crumpled the empty mandrake root bag into a fist. “Witchcraft took my dad. I know which side I’m on. Now, do you want me to do this or not? Because if I decide not to, these are just jars and roots, and you’re back to burning witches at the stake.”

Harry pushed himself away from the table and rolled his eyes. “Go ahead.”

God, David hated submitting to Harry, but… he pushed down his annoyance and did as he was asked. He lit a match, then made his way down the row of jars. He held the flame just inside the lid of each, making the inside glow orange as he repeated the incantation seven times.

“It’s done.” He blew out the match. “Add blood, set it on fire, and they die. Their magic with them.” 

He had left the eighth and final jar unenchanted. His own blood would never be collected, but he wanted to be safe rather than sorry. Only he did wonder vaguely which jar would come to symbolise the fiery destruction of his little brother.

He shook the unbidden thought from his mind and stepped away. Harry had managed to acquire seven more chairs from who knows where, and had arranged them into a circle, so the occupants would face outwards, their backs to each other.

“Good,” said Harry, eying the cruets with considerable distrust. “We can’t risk outing you so I’ll have some others do the gathering for you. Marcus said he was up for it, and our newest recruit needs to prove his worth—he said he’s familiar with the targets so we’ll see how he does.”

“My brother’s throwing a Halloween party tonight,” said David. “Everyone will be there.”

“Perfect.”

✨

Neither of them spoke on the drive back to Nick’s house. But Charlie did feel better for being near him again. Parked outside, they sat in their quiet solitude. For just a moment. 

Charlie’s head was so full of thoughts it was difficult to hold the rest down long enough to consider the true threat of witch hunters. The space between them felt like that between stars, expanding and infinite. Could Charlie really just reach out across the cosmos and hold his hand, stroke his cheek, touch his hair? No. For now he would remain on earth, for now he could only star-gaze.

Nick blushed and looked away. He had been gazing, too. Charlie heard himself laugh, heard Nick laugh. Why did the universe have to be like this?

“Nick, we should…”

“What is he doing?”

Charlie whirled around in his seat to look out the window. His heart sank and he wanted to scream. He threw the car door open and followed after Nick, up the front path to where David was standing on a stepstool, attaching a glittery Happy Halloween banner to the front door.

“Your little friends are fucking annoying,” he grumbled. “I don’t see why they couldn’t just do this themselves.”

“If you’re going to be a part of our coven,” said Nick. “Then you’re going to have to learn to get along.”

Charlie eyed the banner. “It’s kind of wonky.”

David stared down at him, eyebrows raised. Nick bristled. 

Before the brothers could start throwing punches again, Charlie leapt to change the subject. “That girl lied to you,” he said. “She wasn’t a witch.”

The loose end of the banner fell limp in David’s hand. “What are you talking about?”

“She was a witch hunter.”

“How do you know that?”

“She was part of the Hopkins Society,” said Nick. “Their motto is some bible verse about killing witches.”

“But if she was a witch hunter,” said David slowly. “Why would she bother lying to me?”

“I don’t know,” said Nick. “Are you sure she didn’t say anything else to you before you killed her?”

“Only what I told you.” David rolled his eyes at the pair of them. “How do you know for sure that’s what she was? What else have you got to go on? Other than two symbols on a broken knife handle?”

Nick turned away, shaking his head, but Charlie stopped and stared. He watched David watching them, mind racing. David raised his eyebrows. “What the fuck are you staring at?”

“David,” Nick said warningly.

Charlie placed a hand on Nick’s arm. “Um… we should probably go inside and help the others.” He steered him around the stepstool, into the house. “Fix that wonky banner, David.”

The hallway, living room, dining room and kitchen were all decked out in Halloween finery. The table now held a complete spooky feast. Nick added his purchased napkins to the display and grinned at their friends currently lounging around the living room, tired before the party had even started.

“Wow,” said Nick. “This place looks amazing, you all did so good. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help.”

“Yeah, me too.” Charlie shrunk under the transfixed gaze of his five friends. All of them were staring at them, at their unlinked hands, and at their shared arrival. “It really does look great.”

Elle seemed to shake out of her daze first. She leapt to her feet and grabbed Charlie’s hands. She moved him to a string of bat-shaped bunting over one wall. “Look at this!”

She squeezed Charlie’s hand in her own and he felt the smooth sensation of her magic connecting with his. One paper bat fluttered, then flapped free from its tether and flew around the room. As it swooped and dove, the others ducked and laughed. It fluttered into Darcy’s face, making them shriek and hurtle sideways off the sofa. Tara swiped out with her hand, hit the bat at full force and sent it soaring into the fireplace where it shrivelled and burnt to ashes.

They all stared in horror. 

“Oh no!” Tara cried. “I’m so sorry little batty!”

Charlie wanted to tell them about their witch hunter revelations, but they were so relaxed and content right now, he didn’t want to ruin it. They needed this. After James, after everything, they deserved a night to be happy and carefree and have fun. And as they drifted out the door, heading home to get changed, Nick and Charlie stood in the hallway, watching them go with a bittersweet tether connecting them. 

When it was Charlie’s turn to leave, he turned back to murmur, “You clocked that, too, right?”

Having fixed the banner, David seemed to have cleared off elsewhere.

“Clocked what?”

“When I showed David the broken knife handle he only saw the one symbol. So how did he know there were two? He clearly knows more than he’s telling us.”

Chapter Text

chapter fourteen: even the universe

Maybe she shouldn’t have brought Nellie along. The kids were already too excited for trick-or-treating later to eat their dinner, and now they had the excitement of a dog in the mix. Being around them was refreshing, though, Sarah thought. A few days away. The tea room was her pride and joy but even she sometimes needed time off. She and Diane had big plans of drinking lots of wine and eating lots of chocolate while Richard took the kids out. 

Even so, throughout dinner, her mind kept wandering back home, to the situation she’d accidentally pushed her son into. Had she been too hasty? Had she truly misjudged the situation so drastically? Had she ruined his relationship? She’d gotten too excited, felt too safe, put too much trust in a couple of teenagers who had only known each other for two months.

They would be okay. They had to be. Or Sarah would never forgive herself.

Between the main course and dessert, her phone rang. Diane waved her away to answer it and Sarah slipped out into the back garden, frowning at the unknown number on her screen. She let the backdoor slide shut behind her. “Hello?”

“Hi, Sarah. It’s me, Eric.”

She stopped short, staring into the darkened garden. “Eric? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Can’t an old friend call for a catch-up?”

“Not after sixteen years, no.”

“Maybe I wasn’t in your coven,” said Eric. “But I never gave you a reason not to trust me.” 

Sarah sank onto the edge of a patio chair and exhaled. “You shouldn’t have called.”

“Well, it wasn’t on the top of my to-do list, either, but Julio Spring’s son came into my shop today.”

“That’s nice,” said Sarah. “It’s Halloween. He was probably there for decorations. Why does it matter?”

“He was asking questions,” said Eric. “About a knife. One that belonged to some old hunting acquaintances of ours.”

Sarah swallowed. What did he want her to say?

“It’s funny,” the man continued. “I couldn’t see much of his father in him at first, not until he told me who he was. You know how it is with kids, it’s hard to predict which parent they’ll favour.”

She rubbed a hand over her forehead. “He’s Julio’s son, Eric.”

“Are you sure? Because you were always a tad blind when it came to Julio.”

“We were all blind except Julio,” she said. “In the end.” She had wanted a nice, relaxing evening.

“He doesn’t know who his mother really was, does he?” said Eric. “What she was trying to do that night?”

“And there’s no reason he should.”

“Why not? Especially if he’s as much like Julio as you say.”

“Just leave it alone,” Sarah snapped.

“He needs to know about Jane Driscoll. He has a right to protect himself.”

The phone beeped. Eric had hung up.

✨

One second, Nick had been sitting alone with the food, clutching his pathetic little hobby horse, wishing for something like a wild party to take his mind off his heart, then the next, the house had been full of people and he wished for nothing but some peace. The guests did seem to be having a nice time. The food table had been ransacked, the music was loud, the drinks were flowing. 

Nick was glad Nellie had gone with his mum to Aunt Diane’s. She wouldn’t have liked all the noise. Nick didn’t like it much, either. 

He stood in the living room doorway, sipping a beer and watching his friends dance in the crowd. Tao and Elle’s costumes went right over his head—he thought they might be a reference to some film he didn’t know, but they looked cute together nonetheless. It had been a little amusing when he’d spotted Imogen in her glittery witch costume, complete with a black pointed hat and a tiny purple cape. Did she have any idea she was currently dancing in a house owned by witches? But there she was with Sahar, Aleena and Jay, laughing over drinks and plates of Halloween food. 

He kept trying to get himself to go over and join them, but… it didn’t seem right.

Nick had thrown together the laziest attempt at a cowboy costume ever. He’d ordered a cheap hat and a hobby horse online, chucked on some old jeans and a shirt that was a tad too small. The braces he’d found in the bottom of his wardrobe used to belong to his dad and he didn’t think he’d ever need them, but there he was. A lonely cowboy.

Yeehaw.

From his perch by the door frame, Nick scanned the crowd over and over. He wondered where Tara, Darcy and Isaac had gotten to, he hadn’t seen them since the party started... But he couldn’t pretend for long they were really who he was waiting on tenterhooks for. He was about to turn away and get another beer when the crowd of dancing people shifted and… there he was.

Jesus fucking christ.

Charlie was a pirate.

A fucking sexy pirate.

Tight trousers, a flowy white shirt with a low, low neckline. An eyepatch was pushed up into his hair, a fake hoop dangling from one ear, an adorable parrot attached to his shoulder.

Desperate to appear nonchalant, and as if he hadn’t been staring, Nick sipped his beer. Then remembered the bottle was empty. He lowered it and looked around for something, anything to do with his hands, to cool himself down for fuck’s sake. But then Charlie was moving closer, crossing the crowded room towards him—and he looked so unsure of himself, so worried. 

And then he was standing right beside him and his hand was on Nick’s arm. “You okay?”

“F-fine,” Nick spluttered. “You just look… Jesus, Char…”

Charlie giggled softly. “You look incredible, too. Nice hobby horse.”

“Thanks. Nice parrot.”

Charlie shrugged his shoulder, making the parrot bounce. Nick laughed. So much warmth spread through every inch of him that had been so anxious before. With Charlie there, the room didn’t feel so overwhelming, the crowd didn’t feel so oppressive. And, Jesus, that pirate shirt was pretty sheer. And those trousers were not leaving much to the imagination.

No. It’s not you. It’s not him. You have no control over your feelings. 

If the nasty voice in the back of Nick’s head was right, then what would it mean to act on those intense feelings? Who could give consent when the universe made all the decisions? Only the universe.

But the problem was, it felt so good to have those feelings. Did it really matter where they came from? If his mum was right and he could choose who to love, then of course he’d choose Charlie, right? Charlie was worthy of all the love in the world.

“Char?”

Charlie had turned to stare absently around the room. He looked back at Nick, his shoulders as tense as Nick had felt all evening. All week. “Yeah?”

“Would you come with me a sec?” He held out a hand.

Without hesitation, Charlie took it and nodded. “Okay.”

Just that small gesture made a smile grow at the corner of Nick’s mouth. He led the way into the kitchen, ducked between a superhero and a guy in a cow mask and wedged himself into the corner of the counter. Charlie leaned beside him, his gaze upon his feet.

“Hey,” Nick began softly. “I… I just wanted to say…” Charlie looked up at him through his eyelashes and Nick thought maybe the universe had a point. “I’m really sorry about how I’ve been acting lately.”

“I-it’s okay—”

“No!” Nick reached out—he wanted to touch him, to hold him close, but he stopped himself. “No, I’ve been really shitty. I told you I needed time and space and I did, that was true, but I still shouldn’t have left you in the dark like that.” 

Charlie frowned and shook his head. “Nick, it wasn’t just you. I didn’t reach out or ask how you were or anything either.”

“I don’t blame you for doing that, though,” said Nick. “You did exactly what I asked. My head’s been a mess, and it still freaks me out quite a lot but… I love you, Charlie. I do. I need you to know that I’d choose you—every time. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure that out.”

“No s-words.” Charlie cupped his face between his hands. “It scares me, too, how intense this is, but… I choose you, too. I don’t care what the universe says—if it said we were doomed to be apart, I’d still choose you, Nick, I love you—so so much.”

“Even though I messed everything up and ruined our half-term?”

“Nick!” Charlie laughed. “Yes! Now, please can I hug you?”

But Nick got there first. He pulled Charlie into his arms and sighed. He fit there so perfectly, his warmth and his scent, his hair brushing his cheek, his heart beating steadily alongside his own. How had Nick deprived himself of this for so long? Maybe the universe wasn’t some huge, infinite force in the sky, maybe the universe was the boy between his arms dressed as a pirate, clinging to him like he might float away if he  didn’t.

“Please can we take some time to figure this out together?” Charlie whispered. “We can take it slow and steady, but it’s the space I can’t handle.”

Nick looked down at their arms around each other and laughed. “Fuck space.” 

Charlie laughed, too, his blue eyes glittering. Nick lifted him into another hug and spun him around, making him giggle even more. He set him back down and grinned. “Dance with me.”

“Nick, you know I don’t dance.”

“And you know I don’t either but, please? I really want to dance with you.”

“Fine.” Charlie grasped his hands and tugged him along.  “Come on then, you.”

They slipped through the crowd around the food table and back into the living room. At once, Tao and Elle drew them into the fold of dancers and suddenly, the existence of witch hunters didn’t seem to matter so much. Tara and Darcy appeared from the back garden and joined their huddle as they danced together, twirling each other and singing along uproariously when they knew the words and pretending to when they didn’t.

“You made up?” Elle exclaimed when, arms around each other, Nick planted a kiss on Charlie’s forehead.

“Oh my god, they did!” Darcy cried. They threw themself at Nick and Charlie, causing them to stumble at the force of their embrace.

They exchanged a look, then shrugged. “We’re taking it slow but… yeah.”

Their four friends cheered and whooped and enveloped them into a group hug. “I’m so relieved,” said Tara. “This has been the most depressing half-term ever.”

“I dunno, we’ve made the most of it,” said Darcy, nudging her. “That’s what you can do when you don’t decide to break up right before a school holiday.”

“Hey,” said Charlie. “We were having a crisis.”

“Cool costumes by the way,” said Nick, changing the subject. 

Tara did a little twirl in her Alice in Wonderland dress while Darcy tipped their Mad Hatter hat. “Thanks,” said Tara. “Isaac is our March Hare but he’s disappeared. Probably found somewhere quieter to read.”

“You two look great, too,” said Elle. “We all know Nick has a thing for pirates. Was that the deciding factor in getting back together? The thirst-trap costumes?”

Nick felt heat rise in his cheeks. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off the smooth, thin material of Charlie’s shirt, but Charlie didn’t seem to mind. 

“It didn’t not help,” said Charlie. “And I see you managed to convince Tao into a Moonrise Kingdom costume even though he hates that film.”

“Is that what that is?” said Nick.

“Yes!” Tao exclaimed. “We’re clearly Sam and Suzy. And I don’t hate that film anymore. It’s not Wes Anderson’s greatest work, but it may have its moments. Plus, Elle likes it so…”

“And there was no way I was gonna let him go as Frank from Donny Darko again.”

The song changed and the group stopped their conversation to jump around to the beat once again. Several songs later, Imogen appeared with a container of jelly shots and Darcy lost their mind. Nick and Charlie grabbed one each, then grimaced in quick succession when the soapy watermelon flavour hit their taste buds.

Charlie coughed. “Oh my god, that is vile!”

“How has Darcy had like four?” Nick wiped a hand over his mouth and looked around for something to take the taste away. There was nothing. Charlie’s face dropped. “It’s okay. We can get some water.”

Charlie gripped Nick’s arm. “Your brother’s here.”

Nick looked around and saw David had indeed appeared in the dining room doorway, a beer in hand and looking as if he was trying really hard not to seem impressed by the epic party they had thrown. “Oh.”

“I didn’t trust him before but now…”

“What are you thinking?”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “I think I want to search his room.”

As much as this answer took Nick by surprise, he had to admit, ever since he’d found out David knew about magic, he’d been considering doing a similar thing. Over the four years since his brother had been at university, he’d had very little communication with him. Who knew what he’d gotten himself into up in Glasgow with access to an entire grimoire all to himself?

Tara and Darcy appeared at their sides, having apparently been listening in on their conversation. “We’ll distract him for you!” Darcy grabbed Tara’s hand and led her over to David, whose face fell in horror at the very sight of them. 

They had cornered him very efficiently, though, and not wanting to wait for them to get bored, Nick and Charlie set out into the hallway. At the door, Charlie turned, surprised to find Nick following him.

“You thought I’d let you go alone?” Nick raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t let my worst enemy go into David’s room alone. It’s gross.”

Charlie pulled a face. “Ugh! I hadn’t even considered that.”

“Besides,” said Nick. “You need someone to guard the door.”

Charlie considered him for a second, smiled, then kissed him quickly. He grabbed his hand and turned, only to walk face-first into someone coming the other way. They wore a boiler suit and a creepy pig mask. “Sorry!”

The person stumbled and grabbed onto Charlie’s hips to steady himself. The momentum knocked the pig mask aside.

Charlie backed away into Nick. “Ben.”

“Hey.” Ben smirked. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Still letting this one dick you down?”

“Fuck off.” Charlie tightened his grip on Nick’s hand and pulled him the rest of the way to the stairs. He didn’t let go as they ascended, didn’t stop until they were on the landing, outside David’s bedroom door where he finally took a breath. 

“You okay?” Nick asked, his heart still slowing after the first true jump scare of Halloween.

Charlie shrugged. “There’s been so much going on. Some clingy twat-head like Ben doesn’t seem that scary when we have witch hunters to worry about. And, I’ve had the sweetest, most loving boyfriend in the world to help distract me.”

Nick smiled, but his heart swooped sadly. “I’m sorry I haven’t let myself be sweet and loving or anything to you all half-term.”

“Now who’s saying the s-word too much?” 

“Sorry.”

“Nick…” Charlie sighed affectionately. “You can make it up to me. Any way you like. If you’re interested?”

Nick’s eyes widened. “Um, yes. I am. Definitely.”

Charlie giggled and turned to the door. “Good. Now, let’s do this quickly before your brother escapes.”

Nick followed Charlie into David’s room and leaned against the door to shut it behind them.

“Ew,” said Charlie.

David had only been home for about a week but he’d already ruined all the cleaning and tidying Sarah had done. There were scattered piles of laundry all over the floor, discarded plates and half-empty cups decorated every available surface, the bed was unmade and the bin needed emptying.

“I know I warned you but, Jesus, this is worse than I expected. Char, maybe it’s not the best idea to look in—”

But Charlie selected a drawer at random and pulled it open. Nick watched from the door while Charlie rifled through the chest of drawers, pushing aside underwear and socks. Nick tried to listen for any footsteps from outside but the music from downstairs drowned out most other things. 

Charlie ducked down to open the very bottom drawer and stopped.

“What is it? Did you find something?”

“I… don’t know.” He stood up, a wooden box in his hands. Nick abandoned the door to go to his side. “What is this?”

It was about the size of a regular hardback book, the wood tarnished and old, ornate with an intricate pattern of intersecting vines criss-crossing the lid.

“I have no idea.” Nick took the box and opened it with a satisfying click. 

Nick’s breath caught and Charlie gasped. Inside, encased in red velvet was a knife. A very familiar-looking knife.

It was exactly the same—from the shape and sharpness of the thin metal blade, to the pointed end of the wooden handle, to the C rune standing for conquest, to the crest of a witch-hunting society. The only difference between this knife and the one Millie had used was that this one was in pristine condition.

His hands began to tremble around the box and Charlie quickly took it back. “Nick, this might not mean what it seems like it means. David might not—”

“But what if he is?”

A thump from outside made them both jump. The bedroom door flung open. Just as David entered, Charlie shut the box with a snap. David stood there, staring from them to the box in Charlie’s hands. Shock clouded his usual nonchalant demeanour before he shoved it down and folded his arms across his chest. “Looking for something?”

Nick and Charlie exchanged a look. There was no hope of covering this up, not when they’d been caught so openly red-handed.

“Why do you have this?” Nick demanded.

David scoffed. “It’s not mine.”

Nick squared his shoulders and took a step forward. “Whose is it then?”

“It was in your sock drawer,” Charlie added.

“It wasn’t always,” said David. “I found it in James’ sock drawer.” At their obvious disbelief, David rolled his eyes. “I was helping his aunt and uncle go through some of his things on the night I got here—the night you saw me put that fire out in their front garden. I found this box and the knife with his things. I recognised that crest and its connection with witch hunters so I took it home and I hid it.”

“So you did know what that knife was,” said Charlie. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you show me this when I showed you the broken shard?”

“To protect our cousin,” said David. “I know how bad being in possession of one of these looks, even before right now. As much as we didn’t get along, James was no traitor.”

“No,” said Nick. “Of course he wasn’t. There’s no way James was a witch hunter. So why would he have this?”

David sighed. “I don’t know yet. Maybe James was looking into stuff about witch hunters for some reason, and got onto their radar.”

Charlie opened the box again and frowned down at the knife. “The night you killed Millie, you told me she had come here to scavenge the power left over after a witch had died. After James had died, so maybe… “ He shook his head. “It still doesn’t make sense. What’s the connection?”

“I know, right,” said David, his voice mockingly high. He thrust out a hand for the box. 

Charlie hesitated a second before he closed it and handed it over. He and Nick watched David replace it in his drawer, pile socks on top of it, then shut the drawer again.

“Now we’re all on the same confused page,” said David. “Please piss off out of my room—before you stink up the place any more.”

“You don’t need our help with that,” said Nick. “It’s disgusting in here—mum is going to kill you.”

David stuck his middle finger up. Charlie shut the door in his face.

They headed back towards the stairs, their minds racing. In the semi-darkness of the landing, they leaned opposite each other and took a breath.

“What do you think?” asked Nick.

“I think David’s right. We don’t have all the answers. And he can’t be a witch hunter.”

“But neither can James.”

Charlie rubbed at his forehead. “I was so determined to figure this out. I was doing so well and now…”

“Char, it’s been less than a day since you found that broken knife handle. You’ve already found examples of two other identical knives and figured out they belong to members of the Hopkins Society. Not to mention you translated their creepy Latin motto in about two seconds with no dictionary.”

“But I wouldn’t have found that crest if you hadn’t thought to look in Tara’s grimoire.”

Nick chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, just what would you do without me?”

Charlie raised his eyebrows. “Shut myself in my room and wallow for four days straight?”

“No! Too soon!” Nick let his head tip forward onto Charlie’s shoulder as they both laughed. “Why are we like this?”

Charlie wrapped his arms around him. “Because you’re Nick and I’m Charlie and even the universe agrees life is much, much more bearable when we’re together.” They drew apart and Charlie extended a hand for him to take. “Please can we go back to being normal? Just for a bit? Let’s dance with our friends and eat too much sugar and drink so much we puke.”

“Okay,” said Nick, taking his hand. “And let’s find out what happened to Tara and Darcy, because their distraction was shit.”

“Right!”

Back in the living room, the party had grown even rowdier. People were drunker, louder, though many had stopped dancing in favour of drinking games and making out in any available corner. Tao and Elle were still in the middle of it all, though, Tao’s boy scout hat swinging wildly as he twirled Elle around. Nick and Charlie pushed their way across to the dining room where yet more people were huddled around, drinking and yell-talking over the music. Tara and Darcy were nowhere to be found.

“Of course they got distracted from the distraction,” said Nick, sidling over to the drinks station. “They’re probably making out somewhere private right now.” 

He poured vodka and lemonade into two cups, then they settled against the kitchen counter side by side, taking steady sips.

“Nick?”

“Yeah?”

Charlie glanced between Nick and his cup, as if he didn’t really want the drink after all. “I know we said we’d take things slow, but…”

Nick took a last gulp of his drink, set his cup aside, hauled Charlie into his arms, then lifted him to sit on the counter. Giggling, Charlie quickly set his cup down and responded in kind. Their kisses were at once hot and heavy, lemon-flavoured electricity zapping between them.

“You look so good,” Nick gasped between kisses. “I love these trousers.”

“Yeah? I love this shirt.” Charlie let his hands roam up and over Nick’s shoulders, the fabric only just holding itself together. “And these braces.” He gave them a ping, and Nick laughed.

Charlie parted his knees and pulled him as close as possible. His cowboy hat was knocked aside in favour of access to his hair, and a moment later, Charlie’s eyepatch met the same fate, along with the hobby horse. 

Nothing else seemed to matter when Charlie’s hands were all over him, exploring and caressing. When Nick’s fingers were between those glossy curls, when they were sharing open-mouthed kisses that left them both breathless and wanting more. With the sheer heat between them, Nick was surprised the entire house hadn’t started to float—he felt like he was floating—close to the sun.

A vibrating sound cut through the haze, but Charlie kept kissing him. It took Nick a while too, but then he pulled away just enough to ask, “Is that you vibrating?”

Charlie pouted, his lips pink, hair a mess. “It’s my phone.” With some difficulty, he extracted it from his trouser pocket.

“How did that even fit in there?”

Charlie giggled and shushed him with a finger to his lips. While he answered the call, Nick leaned his head on his shoulder and contented himself with pressing kisses to the side of his throat. 

“Hello?” Charlie gasped. He gripped Nick’s waist. 

Chuckling softly, Nick relented his kisses, but kept himself close enough to hear the man’s voice coming from down the line.

“Charlie? My name is Eric Blackwood. We met at my shop earlier today.”

Nick lifted his head in alarm. They both leaned in so Nick could hear the conversation properly, too.

“Hi,” said Charlie. “Yes, I remember.”

“I’ve left something for you at your house,” said Eric. “You’re in danger.”

“In danger? What do you mean?”

Nick listened hard, but all that reached his ears was the muffled sound of cars driving along a road.

“Mr Blackwood? Hello? Mr Blackwood?” There was a sharp beep and Charlie lowered his phone. “It disconnected.”

Nick swallowed thickly. “Char, what did he mean?” He gripped Charlie’s waist, needing something to hold onto. “D-did he mean a singular or a general you’re in danger?”

“I don’t know, but we need to get to my house.” Charlie hopped down off the counter. “If he’s left me something there, then I should probably see what it is before we panic fully.”

“Wait.” Nick grabbed his hand. “Are you sure it’s safe? Can we trust this Blackwood guy?”

Charlie chewed at his lip. “I… think so?” He shrugged. “He didn’t seem malicious. Kind of anxious and eccentric, but harmless enough.”

“Well, I’m coming with you. And maybe we should bring the others for back up. Just in case.”

Once again, they traversed across the party—only this time with much more urgency. But in the living room, Tao and Elle were now nowhere to be seen. Keeping a firm hold on each other’s hand, they hurried around the house, looking around for literally any of their friends. When they’d exhausted all rooms, they checked the back garden. Out here, things were much quieter, the night air crisp and cooling after the heat of inside. On the patio, they took a breath.

“Where is everyone?” said Charlie, peering into the bushes. “None of them would choose to read or make out in one of these would they?”

Nick took out his phone. “None of them have messaged the group chat. They’d better not be off having sex in my bed—or in my mum’s bed, for that matter.” He quickly typed out a Where are you? emergency text and pressed send. He really hoped they were just making out or reading somewhere—even in his bed, if they had to. 

“Now what?” said Charlie. “We could just go on our own, I suppose. Our magic is—” He turned to go back inside. “Shit, sorry!”

He stumbled out of the way as two people in boiler suits stepped out onto the patio. The back door slid shut behind them, and the two of them stood there, blocking Nick and Charlie’s way back inside. Both of them were tall and masculine, their faces covered—one with a cow mask, the other with a pig mask. 

“Ben,” Nick hissed. “For fuck’s sake, he told you to fuck off—”

At the same time, Cow-Face and Pig-Face moved forwards. Nick pushed Charlie behind himself. The plastic animal masks suddenly seemed much more sinister. “What are you doing?” he gasped. “What’s going on?”

Cow-Face drew back his fist. A dull pain flared across Nick’s face and then he was on the ground. “Nick!” 

There was a scuffle of movement and Charlie’s cries faded. With a shout, Nick rolled onto his back. Cow-Face leered over him, a damp, white cloth in his gloved hand. Nick tried to wriggle free, but Cow-Face pinned him quickly, an arm across his throat. He blinked the dizziness from his eyes in time to see Charlie fall onto the wooden boards of the patio beside him, and Pig-Face—Ben—shove a cloth over his mouth.

Nick gasped—to shout, to scream—but then a cloth was pressed over his mouth, too. He twisted desperately under Cow-Face’s grip, but he was already falling. There was nothing he could do, no way he could fight, not even as he watched the light leave Charlie’s eyes the second before everything else went dark, too.

✨

On the corner of Britannia Road, the phone in Eric Blackwood’s hand dropped to his side as his arm went limp.

“Mr Blackwood, was my warning not specific enough?”

David Nelson was taller than he was, younger, stronger, colder.

“I wasn’t going to tell him anything about you,” Eric insisted, trembling despite himself. 

His fear only grew as David reached into his pocket and took out the jar. The one containing the mandrake root and Eric’s very own blood. 

“Remember this?” he said, and gave it a shake. “I had a feeling you’d try to be a hero.”

“Please. This is just a—a personal matter. It d-doesn’t concern you.”

“Try me.”

Eric hesitated.

David struck a match in midair and held it over the top of the jar, threatening to duck it further inside.

“Alright!” Eric cried. “Alright. He… Charlie has dark magic inside him.”

David blinked. “And why are you so desperate to tell him?”

“So he can fight it. Maybe he can stop it from overcoming him.”

“You think people can change who they are deep down?”

“Of course,” said Eric.

“Well,” said David. “I don’t.”

And he dropped the match into the jar. For a second, it glowed. But then it burned out and Eric screamed. It was like a fire had erupted in his chest, molten and agonising. Burning from the inside out, Eric Blackwood crumpled to the ground, steaming, dead.

✨

Charlie woke up with a shout to a sharp burst of pain across his wrist. A hand clamped around his stinging wrist and the smooth coolness of a glass jar was pressed against it. He tried to jerk away, but his hands were tied behind his back with a rough length of rope. He blinked the residual fog from his vision. 

The room was dimly lit. Along one wall was a metal table, scattered with herbs and plants and strange-looking instruments. He was seated in an uncomfortable wooden chair. 

The hand around his wrist squeezed one last time, then let go and its owner stepped into his eyeline. “Ben?”

He was still wearing the boiler suit, though he’d removed his pig mask. “You bleed just like us, but you’re not.” He shook the little glass jar. Inside was a twisted brown root in a quantity of blood.

“That’s enough,” said another voice from somewhere behind Charlie. “Finish the cruets.”

Ben rolled his eyes and set the jar on the table in line with six other identical ones.

Staring around the room, panic rising in his chest, Charlie suddenly became aware of a sniffling noise coming from very close by. He looked to his left. Tara was tied to a chair exactly as Charlie was. Her eyes were clenched shut, tears spilling down her cheeks as she trembled. On her other side sat Darcy. In a circle, their backs to the middle, sat Tao and Elle and Isaac, each of them bound to their chair, blood dripping from one wrist. 

His heart stuttering, Charlie turned to look to his right. “Nick?”

His panicked brown eyes met his—but there was nothing either of them could do or say—not even as the other boiler-suited guy collected Nick’s blood into yet another glass jar. Cow-Face had removed his mask, too. Charlie did a double take. The guy seemed familiar. Wasn’t he in Nick’s year at school? Charlie could have sworn he’d seen him hanging around with Harry Greene and some of the other rugby lads.

“Marcus?” Nick gasped. “What’s going on? You’re a witch hunter?”

Marcus smirked and set Nick’s jar in line with the others. Charlie tried to stifle a sob. It came out as more of a muffled squeak. He tugged at his binds, pulled at them with all his might as he concentrated hard on reaching out for his friends’ magic.

“Don’t bother.” A third witch hunter stepped into Charlie’s eyeline and—it was Harry Greene. He gestured to the floor around their feet. “This is a ring of iron sulphide. It’s blocking your power. Science prevailing over your ungodly magic.”

“B-but we’re good witches,” Tao gasped. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Oh, but you will,” Harry sneered.

With Nick’s ragged breathing on his right, Tara’s heightening tears on his left and the panic building in the circle of the best friends he’d ever had, all the shame of begging went out the window. “Ben, please,” he cried. “Stop this! Tell them we’re not a threat.”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “You bound your coven. You have no one to blame but yourselves.”

“Is that th-the only reason you ever dated James?” Isaac demanded. “So you c-could spy on us?”

“Of course.” Ben chuckled. “Just like my father did and his father before him. You aren’t the only ones born into a legacy. But at least I can be proud of mine.”

“Enough pissing about, lads,” said Harry. “Let’s finish this.” He nodded to Marcus, and the two of them disappeared up a set of stairs in the corner.

At once, Ben’s demeanour changed. It was as if he’d been holding himself back in the presence of his fellow witch hunters. He plucked a box of matches from the table and took one out.

The coven began to struggle and twist in their binds with renewed vigour. Charlie knew it was no use. It wasn’t just Tara he could hear crying now. He heard Tao whisper something, though not his words. Only Nick had fallen silent. 

Charlie risked a glance to his right. Nick was moving side to side in his chair, carefully but deliberately, concentrating hard. Behind his back, a screw was poking out of his chair—and he was using it to saw, very slowly, at his binds. Charlie’s breath caught and once again, their eyes met.

He looked quickly away, heart pounding. If Nick could get free, then maybe they had a chance. Maybe Nick could break the iron circle so they could curse Ben into submission and escape. 

The plan formed in Charlie’s head in the second it took for Ben to ruin it completely. 

Ben struck the match, made a big show of selecting a jar, then plucked one up into his fingers and held it aloft for them all to see. “Who’s ready for a fiery death?”

“Ben!” Nick cried. “Don’t! Think about what you’re doing!”

“What am I doing?” Ben drawled. “You should be thanking me. I’m freeing you from a life of sin.” He brought the match closer to the jar, so the rim glowed faintly orange. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Tara—”

“No!”

“Please, don’t!”

“Ben, stop!”

“Oh god, please, no!”

“You have a good heart,” said Ben. “But it’s not enough to protect you from your true nature. This will be fast, I promise.”

Nick stopped even trying to be discreet. Tears on his cheeks, he continued to saw away at his binds. 

Meanwhile, Tara had fallen quiet on Charlie’s other side. Beside her, Darcy was now sobbing, trying to twist free. “Tara! Please, look at me. It’s gonna be okay— please .”

“I love you,” Tara gasped, her eyes clamped firmly shut. “I love you so much.”

Ben held the lit match over the jar—

“NO!”

The jar shattered into pieces.

Ben cried out as glass showered onto his feet.

The coven fell quiet in shock. Tara opened her eyes. Darcy stopped sobbing. Nick stopped sawing.

Meanwhile, Charlie’s breath was coming out so hard and fast he could barely breathe.

With a huff, Ben recovered quickly and grabbed for another jar. He lit another match. Who it belonged to that time, Charlie didn’t know. Tara was safe, but the rest of them were not. And Charlie still couldn’t catch his breath. He didn’t have time.

Ben dropped the match just inside the jar—

“NO!”

—and it shattered.

Ben let out a strangled groan. “Which of you is doing that?” He turned to Charlie—and his green eyes widened. “How are you doing that?!”

Something hot and wet trickled onto Charlie’s upper lip, but he couldn’t move to wipe it away. He tasted metal. And spat it at Ben’s feet. 

A molten fury crackled in Ben’s glare, trained upon Charlie. He turned to the remaining jars.

“No,” Nick gasped. “Please, don’t!”

Ben ignored him entirely. With purpose, he selected the final jar on the right. “Nicholas Nelson.” 

That time, it seemed to Charlie that Ben struck the match in slow motion. A ringing filled Charlie’s head. He didn’t even hear the jar shatter, only saw it explode, saw glass ricochet off the walls. The match’s flame leapt out of the jar, onto Ben’s hand, up his sleeve—until Ben’s entire arm was on fire.

He assumed Ben was screaming. His mouth was open as he stumbled about, batting at the flames. But Charlie could hear nothing but that ringing in his head and his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. As if from the end of a long, dark tunnel, Charlie watched Ben find a bottle of water and chuck it over his hand, dousing the flames. The scent of burnt flesh flooded Charlie’s nostrils, and then Ben was gone, up the stairs and out of sight.

✨

David arrived in the cathedral grounds just in time to see Harry come strolling up from the secret basement. “Harry!” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. He’d run all the way from Britannia Road. “You have to stop this.”

Harry shook his head. “You shouldn't be here.” He made to stride past him, but David stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

“Charlie has dark magic.”

Harry stopped but didn’t turn around. “All magic is dark.”

“Not like this. Charlie isn’t like the other witches, Harry. We can’t kill him this way. You have to trust me.”

Harry let out a breath, then finally turned to look at him. “You’ve become a great asset to me, David, but you’re too close to this. I won’t stop it. I can’t.”

A sudden scream of pain from the basement made them both jump.

“Oh my god…” Harry stared. “Is that Ben?”

“Trust me now?”

While Harry mulled this information over, David had to think fast. The others would be freeing themselves any moment and he couldn’t be standing around chatting with their captor when they made it outside. He drew a knife, sliced it across his own wrist, then shoved it into Harry’s hands. Harry pocketed it and disappeared across the dark cathedral grounds at a run.

✨

Finally, the ropes snapped and fell away. The stench of burning flesh lingered as Nick rubbed at his wrists.

“What happened?” said Elle from somewhere behind him.

“Is he gone?” Darcy cried. “Please tell me he’s gone!”

“He’s gone,” said Nick. “Hang on. I’ll untie you. I’m coming.”

He got shakily to his feet, snatched up a small knife from the witch hunter’s table and went at once to Charlie’s side, to cut the ropes from his wrists. Quickly, Nick moved around the others, until they were all getting to their feet to embrace each other in relief. Nick turned back to Charlie, only to find him still seated. He was just sitting there, as if he hadn’t even noticed his hands were free.

Nick dropped to his knees in front of him. “Char?” Blood had dribbled from his nose into his mouth, stark red against the white of his skin. “Charlie? Can you hear me?”

His eyelids fluttered minutely. His head lolled and he fell forward. 

Nick threw out his arms to catch him. “Charlie?!” His eyes were still open, staring up at him like he could see him but he was too far away. “Come on,” Nick whispered. “We’ve got to get out of here.” He lifted him into his arms, readjusted his grip, then started for the stairs. 

Isaac was standing at the bottom, having been waiting for them. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“I tipped out the other jars,” said Elle from above. “Just in case.”

“Come on, Elle!” Tao pulled her the rest of the way to the top after Tara and Darcy. Nick followed with Charlie, Isaac bringing up the rear. 

The night was cold and dark, only the grass of the cathedral grounds illuminated around them. After the stuffiness of the basement, the cold air was welcome but Nick could only focus on the boy in his arms. Charlie’s arms tightened around his shoulders, and his hands gripped his shirt. Nick set him down carefully and he managed to support himself on shaky legs, though Nick didn’t let go.

“Are you okay?”

Nick expected Tara to be talking to Charlie, but she was looking in the opposite direction. And there was David, lying on the ground a few metres away, bleeding from his right arm.

“Some guy in a cow mask jumped me,” he gasped. “He brought me here. I fought him off but…”

“Where did he go?” asked Darcy.

“He ran off.” David staggered to his feet. He looked from each of them clinging to each other, pale and tear-streaked, from Nick’s bruised eye to Charlie’s bloody nose. “What happened in there?” 

“Witch hunters,” said Isaac.

“They were going to kill us!” Elle cried. “All of us—they almost did, oh god—”

There was a retching sound and Tao began to throw up into the nearby hedges. Elle hurried after him to rub his back. Isaac trotted after her. Nick couldn’t blame Tao. He wanted to puke, too, but he had to keep a hold of Charlie.

Tao resurfaced, scrubbing a sleeve across his mouth. He bundled Elle and Isaac closer to him and—caught sight of Charlie for the first time since they’d escaped. “What happened?” he gasped. “What’s wrong with Charlie? Did they do something else to him?”

Charlie’s grip was as strong as ever but his gaze was still so distant and blank. “No,” Nick whispered, unable to look away from his boyfriend. “He’s just… checked out, I think.”

“Lucky him,” Darcy grumbled.

Nick stroked an unsteady hand through Charlie’s hair, then pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m gonna take him home. We should all go home.”

It was difficult to remember the rest of the world existed as the eight of them made their way across town. It was still Halloween night and the town centre was full of scantily dressed people tottering between pubs. Nick supposed they did fit in. On any other night of the year, their bedraggled selves may have raised suspicions. But all too soon, they were forced to split off, parting ways with longer than normal hugs and forced reassurances.

Finally, only Nick and Charlie were left. Oh, and David.

The three of them stopped on the corner of Britannia Road. There was no way Nick was going to let go of Charlie tonight. Possibly for the next several years.

David sighed. “See you later.” He gave a wonky little salute and headed off down the road towards River Crescent. Nick and Charlie watched him go for only a moment before they turned to the house, arms still firmly around each other. 

As soon as they were inside, Nick grabbed the first aid kit and brought it up with them into Charlie’s bedroom. Charlie sank onto the edge of the bed and Nick crouched down to clean the blood from his nose, to clean the cut on his wrist. Now he had one on each, though the other had mostly healed by now.

Holding back tears, Nick smoothed the plaster over the cut, then kissed it better. His bottom lip wobbled and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop the dam from breaking. Charlie reached out and Nick fell between his arms, buried his face in his shoulder and clung to him with every ounce of strength he had left.

“Nick…” Charlie’s voice was hoarse, his breath like a kiss against Nick’s cheek. They drew apart enough to look at each other. “L-let me?” His blue eyes flicked down to Nick’s wrist. It was as cut and bloody as Charlie’s, though he had barely noticed the pain until that moment. 

Nick swallowed down more tears and sat beside Charlie on the bed. Charlie reached for the first aid kit, his hands much steadier now, and extracted an antiseptic wipe and a plaster. He cleaned and plastered and kissed with gentle precision, then turned his attention to Nick’s face, specifically his eye. “He hit you.”

“Does it look bad?”

“Of course not. Does it hurt?”

“N-not really… Maybe a little bit…”

Charlie dug around in the kit and extracted the Sudocrem. He rubbed some over Nick’s bruise, then kissed that better, too.

“Thank you,” Nick whispered. But the small actions seemed to have zapped the rest of Charlie’s energy. He swayed where he sat. “Whoa… Okay, let’s get you changed and wrapped up in bed, okay? Sleep. We need to sleep.” 

He got up and found Charlie’s pyjamas on the chair by the window. He chucked them at him, then considered what he should wear himself.

“Look in the drawer,” said Charlie, pulling off his pirate trousers. “Top one.”

Nick did as he was told. And found a veritable selection of his own clothes folded neatly inside. The sight gave him a fuzzy warm feeling which permeated through the trauma of the night and curled up in his chest. He changed into some joggers and a t-shirt, then turned to get into bed. Charlie was already snuggled up under the duvet. He flicked aside the corner and Nick climbed in beside him. There was something lumpy under his pillow. Frowning, he reached beneath it and pulled out a hoodie. His own hoodie. In Charlie’s bed.

“It doesn’t smell like you anymore,” Charlie murmured.

“No,” said Nick, pulling the hoodie on. “Now it smells like you.”

✨

The traffic had been a nightmare. The not even two-hour long drive had turned into about four. And then there was the trouble of finding the place. Hassan’s lake house was in the middle of nowhere, beautiful but secluded. Just how he liked it. Kathleen had visited most summers since she was young, though the visits had become few and far between over the past… ah, yes, sixteen years.

She knew something was wrong as soon as she found the front door unlocked. “Hassan?” she called through the open doorway. “Hello?”

That was when the smell hit her. With a gasp, she threw her hand over her nose and mouth and tried not to be sick. But she knew that smell, unfortunately. She had smelt it before, though never this strong. Like rotting meat. Like manure and fish and rotting fruit. Kathleen pulled her scarf up to better cover her airways, then took a tentative step into the entranceway. “Hassan?”

The large house was lovely as ever, charmingly decorated in another time, another century, homey and welcoming. Except for the smell, of course. Though that wasn’t usually there.

“Hassan, it’s Kathleen. Are you home?”

Despite her assumption of what must have happened—what only could have happened to create such a stench—she still hoped beyond all hope that she was mistaken. Or that she’d find someone else decomposing on the floor between the sofa and the dining table.

But no, it was Hassan. He lay face down, though most of the flesh of his face had long melted away. His skin had turned red, a sure sign, Kathleen knew, that he had been dead quite a long time. A month at least. 

Frozen in the doorway, Kathleen tried to breathe through her mouth and thought hard about what to do.

There was no helping Hassan now, not even with a crystal. Even still, she went at once to the grandfather clock in the hall, opened the face and extracted the Eskander family crystal. She didn’t know who had done this but she couldn’t let the crystal fall into the wrong hands.

Shoes squeaked against the polished wooden floorboards. 

Before Kathleen could so much as turn around, a hard, sharp pain shot across the back of her head. 

She fell like a stone. 

And the crystal fell with her, right into her attacker’s gloved hand.

Chapter Text

chapter fifteen: a storm’s coming

As if through mud, Charlie was dragged slowly from the depths of sleep. The dawning light of his bedroom permeated his eyes long before he managed to pry them open. He blinked to clear their foggy haze and, with a groan, rolled over to go back to sleep. But there was Nick, smiling sleepily at him from the other pillow. “Morning,” he whispered.

“Hmm, morning…” Charlie folded himself around Nick’s side and cuddled closer. “I’ve missed this.”

Nick wrapped his arms around him and kissed his hair. “Me too.”

Charlie shifted to lay his head on Nick’s chest and let his eyes fall shut once again. He was so warm and cosy, but the memories which greeted him behind his closed lids dropped him back into reality. He saw again, those masks, the pig and the cow, watched helplessly as Marcus punched Nick, watched him fall, saw that basement room, saw his friends tied up and bleeding from their wrists, heard Darcy’s desperate sobs, felt the utter terror he had felt when Ben had picked up each jar, picked up Nick’s. 

Saw the flames erupt up Ben’s arm, smelt the burning flesh, heard his screams.

“Charlie?” Nick’s soft voice jolted him back into the present. He flung his eyes open. Nick had moved to better study his face, though his arms remained around him, for which Charlie was thankful.

“I did that,” Charlie whispered. “I hurt Ben.”

“How could you have done?”

“I don’t know, but I made those jars shatter, too.”

“But the iron, it blocked our magic,” said Nick. “I reached out for yours constantly when we were down there and I—I couldn’t find it. Couldn’t even feel it.” 

Charlie touched Nick’s cheek, then let him pull him tighter into his embrace, their noses almost touching. “I couldn’t feel yours either. It was horrible. But somehow, I shattered those jars, by myself. I know I did.”

“And you set Ben on fire. No matter how you managed it—you saved our lives, Char.”

“But I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Charlie worried at the front of Nick’s t-shirt. “The way he screamed, I…”

“Hey,” Nick whispered. “Hey, no, Charlie, don’t… God, you’re so good.” He slid his fingers into Charlie’s hair. “He was going to kill us all and you stopped him. You’re so powerful. Of course you did it. Y-you found a way to save us.”

The way Nick’s hand was cupping the back of Charlie’s head soothed him so efficiently, he practically sighed. His eyes slipped closed again, relishing in the feeling. “I just don’t understand how it happened. I was so scared and it felt so… strange. Not like it was with the crystal. I chose to do magic that time, but last night…”

“Wait, what crystal?”

“Oh, right,” said Charlie, opening his eyes. “Shit. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about that.” He met Nick’s curious gaze and sighed. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell the others. My gran made me swear not to tell even you.”

“I swear it.” He sealed it with a kiss to Charlie’s nose.

“Alright.” Charlie chuckled. “How could I ever deny you anything?”

Nick wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh, really?” 

“Oh my god, Nick, stop!” He batted at Nick’s shoulders. “Do you want to hear about this crystal or do you just want to do unspeakable things to me?”

“Not unspeakable things…” Nick pressed a single, long lingering, open-mouthed kiss to Charlie’s throat, then pulled away quickly to admire the effect.

“Jesus…”

“Tell me about that crystal then.”

“Dick.”

“Not yet. The crystal?”

“Fuck’s sake…” Charlie tried to roll away, but Nick followed. “Nick! Behave!”

Nick pouted, his ruffled hair flopping adorably into his eyes as he leaned over him, smiling impishly. “Sorry. I guess I’ve missed waking up with you like this more than I thought. Please tell me anything you want. I like to hear you talk, even when you’re calling me a dick.”

“Hmm… I’ll remember you said that. Now, shush, it’s story time.”

Nick lay across from him, attention complete. Charlie really didn’t want to bring the mood back down, but he did want someone else to know about the crystal. Keeping such a secret didn’t sit well with him and if he was going to choose someone to bear the burden with, it would be Nick every single time.

“My gran gave me this crystal,” he began. “On the morning before James’ funeral. She said her dad handed it down to her and that my dad would have handed it down to me if he could. It… it lets the holder do solo magic.”

Nick blinked. “Wait, really?”

“I tried it against Millie when I found her and David fighting outside the wake, and it worked. I threw her knife right out of her hand. But it felt… horrible . Like someone was scraping their fingernails down my soul.”

“Jesus…”

“I think… I think David might have one, too.”

“You think that’s how he’s doing solo magic?”

“It would make sense,” said Charlie. “Maybe all witch families have one, just like with the grimoires.”

“That dickhead,” said Nick. “If he found our family grimoire and our family crystal, then fucked off to Glasgow without telling me about any of it then…”

“Hmph. What a bastard.” 

Charlie pushed back the covers and made to get out of bed. Nick pouted and made grabby hands, but Charlie just smiled at him and crossed the room to the fireplace. Nick sat up, tousle-haired but more awake now, watching as Charlie opened the secret compartment and extracted the crystal. He handed it over for Nick to inspect.

“Wow.” Nick turned it over in his hands, watching the way the light refracted off its glass-like surfaces. “It’s so pretty.”

“Yeah.” Charlie sat down on the edge of the bed. “I haven’t really given it much thought to be honest, not after using it felt so crap.”

Nick studied the crystal, brow furrowed. “Do you think it would work for me?”

“Oh. I don’t know. I don’t see why it wouldn’t, only…”

“Only?”

“My gran also warned me that the crystal can bring out the worst in people. I don’t know exactly what she meant by that, but I’m starting to think maybe no one should have access to solo magic. It’s too unpredictable. As much as I hate hiding things from the others, I think it might be best if we keep this locked up in here.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He handed the crystal over and Charlie replaced it safely behind the tile in the fireplace. He turned back to find Nick now sitting on the edge of the bed, his brow furrowed even deeper than before. Charlie sat beside him and tilted his head at him questioningly.

“Charlie?” Nick scooted closer. “Are you… okay?”

The question took Charlie by surprise. He nodded, but then Nick reached out to touch his cheek, apparently studying his features. “You were so out of it last night. After… after everything. It really scared me.”

“It scared me, too. I don’t want that to happen again, but…” He took Nick’s hands in his own and lowered them gently to kiss his knuckles. “If it was between that and one of you dying, I’d do it again. Every time.”

Nick closed his eyes and tipped forward just enough to press his lips to Charlie’s in a slow, sweet kiss. “I know you would.” And Charlie brought him back in, to deepen their kisses, relishing in the soft, tingly warmth which flooded his very bones whenever Nick kissed him like that. A little firmly, drawn out like a promise, like a blanket, like I love you and please don’t leave me and I’m not going anywhere.

By the time they’d picked themselves up from the bed, showered and dressed, their stomachs were rumbling for lunch. The kitchen was bright with autumn sun. Wrapped in a cosy soft knit jumper, his hair still fluffy from the shower, Charlie pottered about making sandwiches while Nick pretended to assist, only in reality just distracting with cuddles and kisses.

“Is your gran at work?” Nick asked as they settled at the table with their food.

“She went to visit Elle’s grandpa Hassan at his lake house.” Charlie glanced at the time on his phone. “She should be back soon, actually.” 

As much as the events of last night weighed heavily, at the same time, just sitting there at the table with Nick in the bubble of warmth he always came with, Charlie remembered that, actually, some good things had happened yesterday, too. One especially incredible thing being—the break was over, Nick was there, and they loved each other—all on their own. Whether the universe agreed or not.

Nick brushed toast crumbs off his fingers, then downed the rest of his tea. He put his mug down and caught Charlie watching him, chin propped on one hand. Nick smirked. “What are you staring at?”

“You. You’re very cute, did you know that?”

Nick stuck out his tongue, a la five-year-old. “You’re very cute, did you know that?”

“Pfft! Well, I fancy you a lot, so there!” Charlie finished the rest of his tea and took out his phone. 

Nick gathered their empty plates and mugs. “I fancy you, so there.”

Giggling softly, Charlie navigated to the group chat. It was pretty quiet, the last few notifications were photos from the Halloween party. He typed out a quick message, asking how they were, whether they’d managed to get any sleep, if they’d taken care of each other and themselves. He pressed send before he realised no one else was even online.

He swiped from Wattsapp to his home screen and suddenly remembered—the phone call from last night. “Oh my god, we completely forgot about Mr Blackwood’s warning. He said we were in danger! He must have known about the witch hunters and their plans.”

Nick turned away from the sink. “Right! I can’t believe we forgot about that. He said he left you something, didn’t he? At your house.”

“I didn’t see anything when we got in last night but I was so out of it, I suppose I didn’t…”

Nick was already out into the hall to the front door. “Is this it?” he called. A second later, he reappeared, a large brown envelope in his hands.

“Must be.” 

“It has your name on it.” Nick sat back down at the table and handed over the envelope. 

Indeed, someone had scribbled Charlie Spring across the front in loopy, black handwriting. Carefully, Charlie peeled open the envelope, then slipped out a single, yellow-brown sheet of parchment paper, only slightly smaller than the envelope. The paper was thick, with the distinct musty smell that often clung to only very old documents. Every inch of it was covered in very faint, faded black writing.

“Whoa…” Nick murmured. Charlie flattened the parchment on the table so they could both squint down at the lettering. “This isn’t Latin.”

“Nope. I have no idea what this is—it’s so tiny, I can barely work out a word.”

As well as the handwriting, faded lines crisscrossed, turning the entire page into a muddled, chaotic mess. Even if the ink had been penned yesterday, it would have been hard enough to decipher.

“Wait,” said Nick. “What’s that?” He pointed to the very bottom of the parchment where a wax seal had been attached, dark red and stamped with the letters “F.W.”

It took an hour before they called for reinforcements. Together, they scanned every inch of the parchment, flipped it over to find a similar jumble of lines and words on the back, too. Nick insisted on Googling every combination of letters he could just about piece together, only to have Google not understand, either. And there were thousands upon thousands of results for the letters F and W.

Isaac arrived first, shortly followed by Tao and Elle. More tea was made, snacks were acquired, and by the time Tara and Darcy stepped through the door, Nick and Charlie found they were glad to be surrounded by their friends, even if their cosy little bubble had been disturbed. As everyone settled around in the squishy sofas and comfortable armchairs of the living room, they exchanged tighter hugs than normal, compared bandaged wrists and war-stories of their night of restless sleep.

“Maybe we really are a cult now,” Darcy joked, half-heartedly from the sofa. “With our matching wounds.”

“If we are,” said Tara. “I’m glad to have you all. Things would be much more scary if we were on our own.”

Darcy stuck out their bottom lip and wrapped Tara into their side, where they stayed, comfortable until the doorbell rang. Everyone glanced around at each other. They were all present. Charlie got up from where he’d been perched on the arm of Isaac’s chair and went into the hall to answer the door.

It was David.

“You said the entire coven, didn’t you?”

Charlie rolled his eyes, and headed back to the living room at once. “Who added David to the group chat?” he called.

A distant mumble of, “I’ll just let myself in, then,” and David followed moodily behind him.

“Sorry!” said Tara when Charlie re-entered. “I thought it was only fair. He did get attacked and kidnapped just like the rest of us.”

Charlie let Nick pull him down onto the loveseat with him, grumpy now his brother was present and sitting himself in the armchair by the window. “Fine,” Nick grumbled. “As long as he’s on his best behaviour.”

David put up his hands in mock-surrender. “Your boyfriend was the one who apparently needed me in the coven so badly. How could I refuse?”

The entire coven shot David disgusted looks. Charlie scooted closer to Nick, hoping to soothe the tension which appeared whenever David did, and sighed. “We all need you in the coven to help us with magic stuff, so that we’re at full power. We don’t need you to be our friend, but we’d love it if you could maybe be a tad more respectful, you know?”

“Oh, I can be respectful,” David scoffed. “As long as the sentiment is returned. At this point, I don’t exactly feel very welcome.”

“Welcome to the coven, Dave,” said Darcy, glaring. “Happy?”

The visible way David shrunk under their gaze was honestly remarkable. Nick and Charlie exchanged baffled looks, then had to stifle their laughter with their hands. 

A comfortable quiet fell around them, then, the eight of them simply sipping tea and munching snacks. Charlie held his own mug, warming his hands rather than drinking it. Nick was leaning heavily against his side and every now and then he’d press sweet little kisses to his shoulder or his cheek, like he was happy to simply be allowed to do that again. 

“I barely slept,” Elle murmured as she blinked sleepily from Tao’s shoulder. The two of them were seated with Isaac on the sofa opposite Nick and Charlie. She had been snoozing without realising she’d dropped off. She rubbed her eyes and snuggled back against Tao’s side. “I keep thinking the witch hunters are gonna come back to try again.”

“I don’t think they will,” said David. “I overheard the one that jumped me talking to the leader—said they needed to lay low for a while.”

That was something, Charlie considered. But he still didn’t one hundred percent trust David to be completely truthful. He had withheld important information on several occasions now. If he really did want to be a part of their coven, he couldn’t do that any more.

“I still can’t believe Harry fucking Greene is a witch hunter,” said Tao. “And Marcus? He’s an idiot.”

“And Ben,” said Nick, tightening his embrace around Charlie. “I mean, it’s not as surprising as the other two, but still… all that shit he put Charlie and James through, and it was never even real.”

“I hope he’s really suffering,” said Isaac. “And maybe Ben getting torched scared them off. It definitely scared Ben enough to run, and basically give up their whole plan.”

“How did that even happen?” asked Tao, frowning. “We had our backs to him the whole time, couldn’t see a thing.”

Charlie flinched. Nick covered his hand with his own and squeezed.

“It seemed like…” Isaac glanced over at Charlie. “It seemed like it was you, Charlie. Your nose was bleeding and that made Ben think it was you, too.”

“But how?” said Tara.

“There was iron,” said Elle. “Harry said the iron was stopping our magic—”

Charlie closed his eyes and took a breath. “Isaac’s right,” he said, hanging onto Nick’s hand. “It was me. Somehow. I broke those jars and set Ben on fire. I don’t know how, but I did.”

“But with the rest of us blocked,” said Tao. “How? Unless… You did solo magic?”

Charlie nodded. He caught sight of David frowning, too. In that moment he looked more a part of the coven than he ever had before. All of them, even Nick, were watching him carefully, almost cautiously.

“Has that happened to any of you since you bound the coven?” asked David.

Everyone shook their heads.

“This is amazing!” Darcy exclaimed. “Charlie, you have to teach us how!”

“Were you not listening?” said Nick. “He just said he doesn’t know how he did it. And it was clearly very traumatic for him.”

“But he saved our lives,” said Elle. “Surely we should be utilising whatever this power is, sharing it if we can.”

“It’s not that simple,” said Charlie. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know, okay!”

“But the witch hunters are still out there,” Elle continued. “They’re still after us. Not to mention loads of other shit we’ve never even heard of. Ever since we bound the coven, there’s been nothing but one danger after another.”

“But if one of us can do solo magic,” said Tara. “Okay, two, if we include David—then surely that’s better than nothing.”

That was a good point, Charlie thought. The others seemed to come to the same conclusion, because all of them turned to look at David at once. Only to find his chair vacant. They all looked around. David was gone, left without a sound. Isaac got up to peer out the front window. “He’s driving away.”

“Ugh!” Tao groaned. “What a knob.”

“I wonder how David does do solo magic,” said Isaac thoughtfully as he sat back down. “Did it do anything weird to him when he did it before?”

Nick shrugged. “It didn’t seem to. His nose didn’t bleed, anyway.” He exchanged a look with Charlie, both of them knowing what the other was thinking. Charlie pictured the crystal currently sitting upstairs beside his grimoire, with the power to allow any one of them to do solo magic. The guilt was there still, but the burden was no longer so great.

Especially when Nick cleared his throat and addressed the others with a definite finality. “Could we stop hounding Charlie about his solo magic thing, please? It’s been less than twenty-four hours. We’re all still processing everything that happened and, like I said, it was traumatic. We need to let Charlie figure this out at his own pace, if he even decides he wants to.”

The others' gazes softened. “You’re right,” said Darcy. “I’m sorry for pushing you… I just got excited.”

“Me too,” said Elle. “I—I do think we should seriously look into this, but…” She caught sight of Nick’s glare and relented. She let out a sigh. “Yeah. In your own time, Charlie. Of course.”

Charlie offered a tentative smile. He couldn’t blame them for reacting the way they had. They’d all been shaken by what happened, and none of them wanted to feel like they had last night again. Charlie had meant what he’d told Nick, he would bleed every last drop of blood from his nose before he let anything hurt any of the people currently seated around his living room. Even if he didn’t understand how. He’d figure it out. He felt Nick’s energy bristle beside him and squeezed his thigh reassuringly. “This wasn’t the main reason we invited you all here, anyway,” he said.

Nick blinked, remembering, too. Charlie got up and went to grab the parchment from the kitchen table where they’d left it.

“We’re not sure how this is meant to help us,” said Charlie, holding it up so everyone could see. “But Eric Blackwood from Blackwood’s Antiques put this through my door last night. He warned me we were in danger and said this was important.”

He handed it to Tara, then sank back down beside Nick while the paper was passed around the room.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” said Tara. “What language is this even?”

“No idea.”

“F.W.,” said Tao. “What’s that?”

“Probably someone’s initials,” said Charlie. “No idea whose though.”

“And Mr Blackwood didn’t say anything else about it?” asked Elle.

“He didn’t get a chance before the call disconnected,” said Nick.

“Maybe you should ask your gran,” said Darcy. “Where is she anyway? At work?”

“She’s visiting your grandpa actually, Elle,” said Charlie. He glanced at the clock and realised how late in the afternoon it was getting. Something uneasy sprouted in the pit of his stomach. “She should have been home by now. She only planned to stay one night. I’ll ring her.”

He waited and waited, listening to the phone ring until it switched to voicemail. He typed out a quick text and pressed send. That would have to do for now, he told himself, but his hands remained anxious as he fiddled with his phone.

“The signal at the lake house is pretty bad sometimes,” said Elle. “It’s in the middle of nowhere.”

Charlie chewed at his lip. The house suddenly felt much too big and much too empty around them. He was used to his grandmother being out of the house for long periods of time, but the drop off in communication… after everything, he wanted the people he loved where he could see them.

“We’ll wait with you,” said Isaac softly. “Until she comes home.”

“Why don’t we order pizza and watch a film?” Tao suggested. “Something nice and happy.”

Tara chuckled. “I didn’t realise you knew such films existed, Tao.”

As his friends gently teased Tao and he shot back with as many quips of his own, Charlie set his phone on the arm of the sofa and snuggled up against Nick’s side. He had done pretty well, most of the people he loved were right there with him, supporting him and listening. He suspected Nick had known the others wouldn’t have been able to answer any of the questions they had about the parchment any easier than they had. They’d just wanted an excuse to see them. To remind themselves that they had survived. All of them. Even David.

But when the pizza had been consumed and Nick was falling asleep with his head on Charlie’s lap, Charlie blinked around at the television illuminated room and realised the sun had set. And his gran still wasn’t home. He grabbed his phone and jabbed at the call button. Again, it went straight to voicemail. 

He caught Elle watching him in concern from the other sofa. Her expression softened. “If you don’t hear from her by tomorrow maybe we should drive down and see if she’s okay?”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Maybe we should all go,” said Darcy quietly. “The further we are from the hunters, the better I’ll feel.”

✨

The group chat changed everything. Were these idiots actually as stupid as they seemed? With almost no effort, all the information David could ever want just spilt into his inbox. All he’d had to do was pretend to be kidnapped and suddenly he was welcomed with… well, almost open arms. 

He had to admit, when the talk had turned to solo magic and how one might do it, David had panicked. He’d fled before anyone could ask him for more information than he was comfortable giving. He knew what witches tended to think about the kind of crystal he kept in his pocket at all times. Maybe it really did bring out the worst in people. But maybe David was already pretty bad before he’d found it.

Maybe David didn’t care.

Anyway, it turned out he hadn’t needed to stay to gather all the intel he needed. By nightfall, he’d learned all their silly little thoughts and theories about Eric Blackwood, learned the little they knew about the warning gift he had delivered through Charlie’s letterbox and unending whining about the fact that Kathleen Spring appeared to be missing after a trip to Hassan’s lake house.

That last thing was interesting. Possibly concerning.

Which was why he had told Harry to meet him in the cathedral grounds at midnight.

“Did you do something to Kathleen Spring?” David asked. He wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible, it was freezing out and he was admittedly tired after his own night of little sleep.

“No,” said Harry. “After your failed attempt on the coven, we’ve been forced to lay low for a while. Why?”

“She went to visit Hassan Eskander and now it seems she’s missing,”

Harry considered this. “Two elders together. Could they be practising again?”

David shrugged. “The others are going to the lake house tomorrow to check in on her. I’m going to go too, see what I can find out.”

“They still trust you even after last night’s attack?”

“They’re not exactly the brightest bunch,” said David. “They’re scared, but none of them are looking for threats coming from inside the coven. Nick still doesn’t trust me, but I can handle him.”

“Please tell me he doesn’t have dark magic, too,” said Harry.

“I think Charlie’s the only one.”

Harry seemed to read something in David’s thoughtful frown because then he raised his eyebrows knowingly. “You’re intrigued by him.”

David shot him a cold, dark glare. “The closer I get to him, the closer I get to knowing how to kill him.”

✨

“Have you heard from grandpa recently?” Elle asked her dad over dinner that evening. Tao had finally allowed her out of his sight, if only so she could go home and grab some more clothes and things for tomorrow. She didn’t like leaving him either, even if it was just for the night. It was starting to feel like nowadays, if she let the people she loved go, even a little, she might never get them back.

“Not recently,” said Richard. “Why?”

“Charlie’s gran went down to visit him, and now she’s not answering her phone.”

“Well, the service down there is usually a little iffy. I’m sure they’re fine.”

“Hmm… Charlie’s worried anyway. He wants to drive down there tomorrow if he hasn’t heard anything. And it’s our lake house, so…”

“Ellie…” Richard sighed. “It’s your last year of school. You promised me you’d stay home and revise this half-term and you’ve barely even been home.”

“It’ll just be for the day.”

“It’s a four hour round trip on a good day.”

“I’ve driven there and back by myself loads of times, dad. If it makes you feel any better, everyone’s going. Tao and everyone.”

“I’m sure your grandpa doesn’t want to deal with a car full of teenagers turning up at his door without any notice.”

“Dad,” Elle groaned. “What’s the big deal?”

“No big deal. Just… be safe, okay?”

Wincing, she forced a casual nod. Sometimes she did wish she could talk to her dad about all that had been happening lately. Charlie was lucky, he could talk to his gran about magic stuff whenever he wanted. When she was around, anyway. Sometimes Elle felt really close to her dad, closer than a lot of her classmates were to their fathers, but other times she felt she barely knew him at all.

She excused herself to her room early that night and packed a small overnight bag. In the morning, while she truly hoped Kathleen was okay, a large part of her couldn’t wait to get out of Truham just for a bit. She dressed in comfy clothes, ready for a long drive and settled herself on the sofa, scrolling through Insta while she waited for the others to wake up and for Charlie’s final verdict. 

It was gone midday by the time her phone pinged with the notification from Nick in the group chat. Kathleen, indeed, had not returned and Charlie wanted to leave as soon as possible. Elle gathered her things and hugged her dad goodbye. “I’ll call you when we get there. And I’ll tell him you say hi, and that you miss him.”

Richard leaned in the open doorway and watched his daughter climb into her car. He gave her a cheerful wave and waited for her to drive away, out of sight before taking out his phone. “Where are you?” he said. “We have a situation on our hands.”

“I’ll be there soon,” said Pauline. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Do you have Kathleen’s phone?”

“Pretty sure it’s with her in the back of my car.”

“Look, I need you to text Charlie and tell him that Kathleen’s coming home.”

“Why?”

Richard scrubbed a hand over his face and shut the front door. “She told Charlie she was going to the lake house. The kids are heading down to check on her. When we made Hassan’s death look like a heart attack, the idea was that the cleaner would find him, not Elle.”

“She won’t,” Pauline insisted. “Kathleen was there when I arrived. I didn’t want to risk leaving behind any sign of magic. No one will find his body. I moved it, cleaned the whole stinking house. It’s been five weeks, Richard. Do you know how disgusting we get after being dead that long? Anyway, it’s better that the kids are out of Truham for now. It gives us some time to figure out what to do with Kathleen.”

✨

With the postcode and good luck Elle had sent via the group chat, Nick drove steadily south towards Margate. The lake house was in the middle of nowhere and even the savviest of sat navs struggled to find it on a good day, apparently. He hoped they wouldn’t need the good luck too badly. If he kept behind Elle’s car then they would be golden.

The eight of them had set off much later than they’d really wanted, but Charlie had kept delaying. He hadn’t wanted to admit that things were bad enough for them to all make the journey. Once again, his brain had made him feel like a burden for dragging his friends on an unwanted road trip. But Nick had encouraged him and reminded him that they all wanted to do this, for Kathleen and for the escape. After Charlie had picked through his lunch, he had turned quietly accepting of the situation and Nick and sent out the message to the others.

It was nice to get away, even if he and Charlie were trapped in the car with David third-wheeling for over two hours. And now, with Charlie in the passenger seat, his worried eyes fixed on the huge black cloud brewing on the horizon, Nick tried to keep optimistic.

“A storm’s coming,” David said helpfully from the back seat.

Nick rolled his eyes. David scoffed.

Then the three of them lapsed into silence for another prolonged amount of time. Nick had started out the drive trying to lift Charlie’s spirits, to make him laugh or at least smile, to ease his worries if only a little bit. But quickly he realised that wasn’t going to work. And most of his usual devices were out of bounds when his brother was present.

“I’m sure your gran’s alright, Charlie,” said David when they had twenty minutes to go and the storm was growing darker.

Lightning flashed as Nick and Charlie exchanged brief, baffled looks.

“I’m a little short on family members,” said Charlie. “So when one goes missing…”

David nodded knowingly. “We’re a little short ourselves, aren’t we, Nick?”

Whenever David did this, and it wasn’t often, Nick used to fall for it, but now he felt the scratch his fake-nice comments made against his brain almost at once. This wasn’t real. This wouldn’t last. He only wanted to lure him in, make him think he cared, then turn it around at the last second. Nick had to be strong, he had to keep him at arm's length or he’d be crushed again. And again and again and again.

“What are you doing, David?”

“What?” David scoffed, jaw dropped in mock-offense. “I’m trying to be nice.”

“That’s not really your normal setting, though, is it?” said Charlie. “What’s changed?”

“Um, I dunno, maybe because a bunch of crazy witch hunters kidnapped us all and tried to kill us? Maybe I want to make amends, you don’t know.”

Nick grimaced and gave his head a little shake. He focused on the road in front of him, on Elle’s car ahead as she made a turning off the motorway.

“I’ve always known you care for Nick deep down,” said Charlie, taking Nick by surprise. Oh no, Charlie hadn’t experienced this thing David did before, he didn’t know what a dangerous cliff was being built. “And the way you protected James, too. You may pretend not to care, but you do.”

“Char…” Nick murmured, and tried to send him a warning look.

“I wish I’d come back sooner,” said David. “I could have helped you deal with everything. With witchcraft.”

“I thought you wanted magic all to yourself,” said Nick.

“Maybe it would have been nice to share something as brothers.”

Nick snorted. “When have you ever shared anything with me?”

Charlie slipped a hand onto Nick’s knee and squeezed. Nick glanced at him, managed a small smile, then tried to let the simple touch ground him as he drove. His hand was steady and cool, familiar and calming.

David shrugged, then turned back to Charlie. “How about you? Does your gran ever talk about magic?”

“Not much, but she said our family can be traced back to the beginning of witchcraft.”

“Which side?” asked David. “Mum or dad?”

Charlie frowned and exchanged another, much more alarmed look with Nick. “Why are you suddenly so interested?”

“Old magic is powerful,” said David. “Tracing it back might help you understand why you’re able to do solo magic suddenly.”

“I…” Charlie folded both hands into his lap and stared down at them. “I just need to find my gran. Then I can focus on… on the rest.”

It was Nick’s turn to pat Charlie’s knee. He managed a smile, too. “We’re almost there.”

In the end it had taken them nearly three hours to get to the lake house, and by the time Nick was pulling up outside, the storm clouds had burst, efficiently drenching as well as darkening the late afternoon. Through the lashing rain, Nick could just about make out the facade of the lake house, its dark windows reflecting the car headlights before they went out, leaving only the quickly rising moon to light their way. The three of them sat in the car for a moment, dreading the inevitable dash to the front door.

“Ready?” Nick asked Charlie.

He merely grimaced, then threw open the car door. Nick threw his coat hood up and braced himself, before throwing himself after Charlie, into the downpour. 

They hurried around to the boot, hauled out their bags, then sprinted towards the porch which thankfully provided shelter from the rain, if not from the chill. They heard David grumbling along behind them before he appeared a moment later, hair plastered to his forehead. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s home.”

Nick tried to peer through the narrow window beside the door but the inside was dark. 

“Phew, made it!” Darcy exclaimed, coat zipped up to their ears as they arrived with Tara, Tao and Isaac in tow.

“Elle said there’s a key under here,” said Isaac. He ducked down and began to search the flower pots decorating the porch.

“Hey, Elle, where exactly—?” Looking distinctly miserable in a not-at-all-waterproof jacket, Tao looked around for his girlfriend. “Elle?”

Everyone else looked around too. Elle had not followed the others to the door. She was standing a little way past where her car was parked, her back to them. In the distance, Nick glimpsed the shimmering surface of the lake between the trees. “What’s she doing?”

“Elle?” Tao called. But she didn’t reply. The rain was too loud. Tao shrugged his jacket so it covered the back of his neck if not his head, then jogged back out into the rain. Elle only seemed to register his attention when he was right beside her, a hand on her arm.

“Are you okay?” he yelled through the downpour. “Let’s get inside. We’re getting soaked.”

Isaac finally managed to extract the key from one of the flower pots and used it to open the door. He led the way inside. The entranceway was wide, the floors polished, a large staircase sweeping up to a balcony. Nick pushed aside his hood while Charlie checked his own sodden curls in the mirror over a sideboard.

“Did any of you hear that?” Elle shut the door behind them, finally cutting off the racket the storm was making. 

“Hear what?” asked Tara, shrugging off her coat.

“I thought I heard someone… a child…”

“Out there?” Tao squinted out the window. “I can’t hear or see anything but rain.”

Nick tried the light switches. “Power’s gone.”

“Yeah,” said Elle, still troubled. “That happens a lot when it rains, and with this storm… no hope. There are candles in the sideboard there.”

Everyone kicked off their shoes and dumped their bags in the entranceway, then followed Elle through into the large open plan living room-kitchen-diner, Nick and Isaac with armfuls of candles.

“Grandpa?” Elle called. “Grandpa?”

“There’s no one here except us,” said David with a huff. He threw himself onto a sofa and kicked off his shoes.

Charlie helped Nick and Isaac set the candles out along every available surface, then together, the three of them had them lit and flickering away in mere seconds. They grinned at each other. Nick hoped little magical things like this would never get old.

“Do we know a hair-drying spell?” Charlie mused.

Nick kissed his soggy hair. “Nope. And I wouldn’t want to attempt one on these beautiful curls. We might set your head on fire.”

“I might be warmer if we did that. Hey—” Charlie’s gaze landed on the armchair closest to him. He plucked from the back a familiar purple scarf. “This is my gran’s. But where would they have gone in this weather?”

Nick shrugged. “Want to try and call her again?”

They sank onto the chair together as Charlie pulled out his phone. “Oh! She’s texted me.”

The others gathered around the living room, eager for an update. “Really?” said Tao. “What did she say?”

“Phone service spotty here. Stopped to see a friend on the way back. Be home tomorrow.”

When Charlie continued to stare down at his phone, Nick nudged his arm. “Hey. That’s good, right? She’s okay. She’s with a friend.”

“Yeah,” said Charlie, blinking up at him. He managed a small breath, then smiled. “Yeah. That’s good.”

“Did she say anything about my grandpa?” asked Elle.

“No,” said Charlie. “But they might have gone together, I suppose.”

David lifted his head from the sofa and addressed Charlie directly, ignoring the others. “We could head back now if you wanted.”

Charlie looked around at his friends’ dishevelled appearances. Sitting in the car for any amount of time as drenched as they were would not be a fun time. “It’s still pouring out there and the storm’s picking up,” he said. “It’s probably safer to stay here for the night. If gran’s not going to be home until tomorrow then it doesn’t matter either way. If that’s okay with you, Elle?”

She nodded. “I’ll text my dad to let him know. There’s a generator in the shed out the back. If we can get that going we can get some proper light in here.”

“We’ll go!” said Darcy, volunteering themself and Tara.

“Ugh! Why do we have to go?” Tara whined. 

“Come on, we need some alone time after being cooped up in the car with the others.” 

Tara took Darcy’s hand and let them pull them back out into the rain.

“Meanwhile,” said Elle. “Let’s see what grandpa keeps in his drinks cabinet.”

“Now you’re talking!” Tao and Elle flitted off together into the kitchen.

“Are there any torches?” asked Isaac, following them. 

“Check under the sink. Here,” said Elle.

Nick and Charlie peeled off their coats and while Charlie hung them up in the hallway, Nick discovered a chest full of soft woollen blankets in the corner of the living room. “I found blankets!”

“Gimmee, gimmee!” Charlie exclaimed, making grabby hands. Nick selected the thickest blanket he could find and wrapped it around Charlie’s shoulders. He went to grab one for himself, but Charlie took his hand and shook his head. “Get in here.” Charlie pulled him into the fold of his blanket and together, they flopped, giggling, onto the vacant sofa as a snuggle burrito.

“You’re right,” said Nick, securing his arms around him while Charlie burrowed closer. “This is much better.”

Elle returned and placed several bowls of picky bits on the coffee table. “Are you two gonna help or just snuggle all evening?”

“We’ll help when we’ve thawed out a bit,” said Charlie, voice muffled against Nick’s chest, eyes closed. 

Nick couldn’t find the will to move, not even to help his friends, Charlie was so adorable and warm. He adopted the most innocent puppy dog-eyed look he could muster. 

Elle scoffed affectionately but seemed to get the idea. She turned to David. “You, kitchen, now.”

“I’m thawing, too!”

“Pfft! Don’t pretend you’d rather sit in here with these two.”

“Hey!” Nick and Charlie exclaimed at the same time. Then erupted into giggles.

David groaned, but got up to go help the others in the kitchen.

“Thank you, David,” said Elle. “Anyone would have thought we’d dragged you along.” She picked up a torch and turned it on. “Right, I’m gonna go find some towels. That cuddle burrito is a nice idea, but you’re both still soaked.”

“I don’t care,” Nick mumbled. “I’m so warm and toasty right now.”

At this point, the boys were just two tufts of hair poking out from under the blanket. She shook her head, smiling to herself as she went out into the entranceway. There was a guest bedroom downstairs with an en suite. She made her way inside and found several large towels. They smelled a little musty, people rarely used this bathroom, but they were clean and dry. She bundled them into her arms, then headed back across the entranceway, torch in hand.

By the stairs, something caught her eye and made her stop in her tracks. Starting from apparently nowhere, going up the stairs were a set of small, muddy footprints. Elle frowned. None of them had gone up to the first floor yet. And all of them had much bigger feet. 

Curious, but her heart inexplicably heavy in her chest, she started up the stairs slowly, careful not to smudge the mud further into the runner. Thunder crackled and lightning flashed, bathing the stairwell in light for just a few seconds. Around she climbed until she got to the landing. The footprints kept going and so she followed them to about halfway down the hall. Where they suddenly stopped. Right beside a small pair of yellow Wellington boots left haphazardly by the wall, as if someone had thrown them off without much care.

What the heck? Whose could they be? She didn’t have any little cousins who might have come to visit her grandpa, wasn’t aware he knew many children.

She turned to go back downstairs but froze. The footprints had vanished. The runner up the stairs was perfectly clean, as she would have sworn it had been when they’d first got there. She spun back around. The wellies were gone, too.

Nope.

Dinner, she reminded herself. Bring the towels to the others and make dinner.

There were no muddy footprints, no wellies, no lost child in the woods. She may be in a house full of witches, but they couldn’t even dry their hair with magic, let alone create such detailed figments of her imagination. Could they?

✨

“What the hell took you so long?” Richard demanded as he let Pauline into his house.

“I’ve been a little busy.” She did look a little less put together than normal, her usually elegant black coat skewiff. She made no move to come in any further than the hall.

“What did you do with Kathleen?”

“She’s safe,” she said. “Knocked out with a few sleeping pills. She’ll be out for hours, trust me.”

Richard began to pace. “What are we going to do? What can we do? We have no magic, still.”

With a huff, Pauline put her hand into her pocket and drew out—a crystal.

“Oh my god,” said Richard. “You found one.”

“Actually, Kathleen did. Hassan had one hidden inside a grandfather clock.”

Richard stopped his pacing. This changed everything. If they could manage to channel enough of the crystal’s power, that was. “We’ve got to figure out a way to fix Kathleen’s memories. We have a crystal, but we need the right spell. We don’t want to risk something that requires too much power when we don’t have a backup.”

“Right,” said Pauline. “And I know exactly where we can find one.”

She instructed him to put his coat and shoes on, then led him out of the house and down the road. Richard did not protest, as much as hated her of all people telling him what to do. 

On the edge of town, she led him to a style which they clambered over, into the woods. Phone torches out, they picked their way through the darkened trees, breath misting before them.

Pauline found the cottage quickly. Richard’s breath caught. The place was old and broken down but there was something about it that just… not screamed, but whispered magic.

“This is where I followed them months ago when they bound their coven,” Pauline explained as they stepped inside. “Are you sure they’re not coming back?”

“Elle said they were spending the night.” He looked around, awed at how much stuff their children had gathered. The place was cosy, just the sort of place teenagers might enjoy hanging out. But one only needed to look a little closer before one could tell they were in fact teenage witches.

“They’ve got all the basics,” said Richard, running his fingertips over the spines of the books piled on a shelf. “And some specifically queer witchy stuff, of course. I wonder—”

“Look at all this.”

Richard joined Pauline in a doorway to the right and looked into a smaller room beyond. It was full of plants. “This takes me back to earlier days,” he said. “When we started hanging out together, learning the craft.”

“Yes,” said Pauline. “Before Jane. When it was still fun.” She turned back to the main room and peered around. “Tara doesn’t keep our book at home anymore. After the coven was bound, she kept it close. But if I know her, she would have left it somewhere safe before going out of town.”

She took out the crystal and lifted it before her, eyes closed in deep concentration. Gradually, the crystal flickered and began to glow, brighter and brighter as Pauline moved around the room. By the stairs, it became almost blinding. Pauline tested each step until, on the third try, the floorboard came away loose and opened like a lid. Richard watched her slip a hand inside and take out… a grimoire.

“Impressive,” he said. “We should take the book with us. We’ll make sure it’s back before they return.”

“No,” said Pauline. “We’ll find the spell we need, but this is where Tara puts it for safekeeping, so this is where it stays.”

She sank onto the sofa and settled down to flick through the aged pages of her family grimoire. Richard took a step forward, considering his next move. He decided he couldn’t risk it, he had to take the leap. “Y-you should give me the crystal, Pauline. I’ll hold onto it.”

She pursed her lips but did not look up. “I don’t think so.”

“You haven’t been yourself lately—which is completely understandable. But I think it’s for the best, for both of us, if I keep the crystal.”

Pauline sighed. “I was upset after James’ death,” she admitted. “But this crystal, it gives me hope that things can change—they can get back on track. So, please—” She shot him a glare. “Don’t talk to me like I’m one of your students, Richard. I don’t appreciate it. This time, the crystal stays with me. This time, I do what I want. You don’t stop me. Within reason, of course.”

✨

The lights flickered on as Elle returned with the towels. She handed one to Tao and Isaac, chucked one at David and kept one for herself.

“You okay?” Tao asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m just tired.”

He pressed a gentle but warming kiss on her lips, then swooped her with him into the kitchen. “I found some pasta and I thought we could make that sauce you taught me?”

“Okay, sounds fun.”

There was a clatter and the sound of distant thunder as the front door opened and shut. Then, Tara and Darcy entered from the rain, soaked to the skin, but triumphant in their endeavour. “And we have light!” Darcy announced.

Everyone cheered, except David, and Tara and Darcy gave over-dramatic bows. “Thank you, thank you,” Darcy joked. “And we didn’t even get that distracted.” They wiggled their eyebrows at Tara making her giggle.

“Blankets,” said Isaac, bundling a pair into their arms.

“Oh my god, thank you,” Tara exclaimed. “I think my toes are about to fall off, I’m so cold.”

“We’re making dinner!” Tao called from the kitchen.

“Hooray!” said Darcy. “I’m starving.”

“Can we help?” asked Tara.

“I think we have enough hands now, actually,” said Elle.

“Relax and warm up,” said Tao. “Tao and Elle have got this.”

“Um, what have I been doing chopping this veg, then?” Isaac demanded, returning to his station.

“And Isaac!” Tao added.

“Thank you…”

Wrapped in their blankets, Tara and Darcy settled into an armchair together, shivering. Tara let her head fall onto Darcy’s shoulder and closed her eyes, ready for a nap. Meanwhile, Darcy kept an eye on David. He had been tasked with setting the table, but was only doing so with the distinct air of a toddler being asked to go to bed. When he wasn’t pouting like he wasn’t four years older than the rest of them, he kept shooting glances at the bundle of blankets that was Nick and Charlie on the sofa.

But then he caught Darcy’s eye and at their raised eyebrow and backed down.

Darcy snorted. “I think your brother is scared of me.”

“Good,” said Nick from the burrito. “Keeps him on his toes. It’ll help to build character.”

“Aw,” said Tara, opening her eyes and noticing the boys. “You two are snug as two little bugs in a rug.”

Nick smiled down at Charlie, whose face was still smushed against Nick’s chest. “Is he asleep?”

Charlie shifted. “No. I’m just super cosy.” Without opening his eyes, Charlie slid his hands up under Nick’s jumper, in the hopes of gaining even more heat.

“Jesus,” Nick hissed. “How are your hands still freezing?”

“Sorry. I run cold, remember, always have.”

Nick eyed the fireplace opposite, then careful not to jostle Charlie too much, began to extract himself from the blanket. Charlie whined and tried to cling on. “I was going to light the fire. You stay toasty in here.” He bundled the blanket more securely around Charlie, then kissed his forehead.

“I know a better way to start a fire.” David was still setting the table. “Charlie could light the fire himself, couldn’t you, Charlie? With your super special solo magic?”

“Leave it, David,” said Nick, kneeling and reaching for the log basket.

“But what’s wrong with lighting a fire in a fireplace?” asked David. “You had no complaints when it was some guy’s arm.”

Nick chucked several logs into the hearth and tried to ignore his brother. But he could feel Tara and Darcy watching the three of them closely, clearly curious to see whatever magic Charlie could do, too.

“I’m just saying,” said David, shrugging. “Maybe you should try it.”

Nick sighed and turned to Charlie. He was sitting up, still wrapped in the blanket, brow furrowed, deep in thought. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Char.”

Very slowly, Charlie got to his feet and moved closer to the fireplace. His hair was drying, frizzing a little, curls springing back into place. He looked so cuddly and perfect as he knelt beside Nick before the hearth—and Nick suddenly wanted to tell him, Please, don’t try. He remembered the blood, the empty blue eyes, the exhaustion Charlie had endured on Halloween. Nobody should have to go through such things, not to simply light a fire. Especially not his incredible boyfriend whom he suddenly had the urge to pick up, carry back to the sofa, and bundle him back into his arms so nothing would ever hurt him ever again.

Without meaning to, Nick placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. Charlie jumped. Blinked. He’d been so utterly focused on the logs in the fireplace that it was as if he’d forgotten Nick was there, too. His eyes were a little hazy and Nick swallowed down his rising dread. “We could just do it together?”

Charlie nodded slowly. “Okay. Together.” 

He held out a hand. Nick took it.

And together, they kindled a flame in the grate, and the room was flooded with warm, flickering light.

Behind them, David scoffed. “Boring.”

Chapter Text

chapter sixteen: one nice thing

Ever since she’d been really little, one of her favourite things about her grandpa’s lake house was the humongous clawfoot bathtub in the master bathroom. When she was small, she’d been able to bob about with her boats and her ducks to her heart's content. Now she was older, the peaceful solitude from her father and grandfather’s strange, distrustful dynamic was found with bubbles up to her ears, gentle music playing and candles lit. This evening, the final piece of the relaxation puzzle had come in the form of Darcy shoving a full bottle of red wine into her hands when she’d announced her intentions to have a bath.

Elle sipped from the bottle, eyes closed, and let herself breathe. Despite the initial reason for the trip, the eight of them had managed to turn it into one of the nicest evenings they’d had in a while. After years of Tao’s film nights and ordinary sleepovers, a change had been welcome, and they had fallen into their normal dynamic. With the added bonus of Charlie and the added nuisance of David. Cooking was one of her and Tao’s favourite things to do together, and with Isaac as their sous chef, it had been extra fun.

All the while, Elle couldn’t help but remember those mysterious muddy footprints, the child calling out from the stormy woods, the disappearing wellies. Tao had been loving and cuddly all evening but she’d had to get away, out of that room where she couldn’t dampen the others’ joy, nor could she sit inside it any longer.

With a deep breath, she set her wine down and sank deeper into the warm, bubbly water. In… and out. Those strange things didn’t mean anything bad, they were just her imagination, the storm playing tricks on her, they were just…

Her hand touched something in the water. 

Something slippery. 

She opened her eyes as she brought her hand back out of the water. It was full of seaweed.

What the fuck?

She brought up her other hand—that was full of seaweed, too. She blinked. The bubbles had been replaced with a green and brown, slimey, seaweedy soup.

Elle screamed. She threw herself out of the bath, slipping and sliding on the tiled floor as she grabbed for her towel. She bundled it around herself and, still dripping, she hurtled across the master bedroom, into the hall. She threw her head over the balcony.

“Tara!” she hissed. “Charlie!”

The two of them looked up in confusion, the pyjamas they’d extracted from their bags bundled in their arms.

“Can you come up here a second?”

At the sight of her undoubtedly horrified expression, they hurried up the stairs. “My bath,” Elle gasped as she led the way back towards the bathroom. “It was normal, and then suddenly it was full of seaweed—I don’t understand—it was so gross, I feel kind of sick…”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” said Tara. “Take some deep breaths, yeah?”

“Is it through here?” asked Charlie. Elle nodded. She perched on the bed, unable to face the bathroom again so soon, her skin was still crawling. Tara stayed beside her while Charlie inched into the bathroom.

“Everything looks normal,” he said.

Elle looked up at Tara, staring. “What?”

“It’s just bubbles.”

Unable to stand the pitying look Tara was giving her, Elle brushed her comfort aside and stormed into the bathroom. Only to find Charlie standing there, giving her a very similar look. She pushed past him and stared into the bath. At the water and the bubbles.

“But it—it was filled with weeds,” she gasped. “I swear, I’m not going crazy.”

“Maybe you drank too much wine,” said Tara.

“I’m not drunk,” Elle insisted.

“Did you fall asleep?” asked Charlie. “Maybe it was a—”

“It was not a nightmare!”

Tara and Charlie exchanged looks and Elle’s blood boiled further. She put a hand to her forehead and tried to take a deep breath. “No. Y-you’re right. I— Just forget it. I think I need to be alone. Please?” And she ushered them both back out the door.

Before she could shut it behind her, Tara turned. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Elle sighed. She looked between her two friends, at their furrowed brows, their worry for her mental wellbeing. As much as it grated on her nerves, she couldn’t be too mad at them. Only… at the sight of Charlie’s searching blue eyes, her stomach dropped. Could it be? Surely not…

“This—this wasn’t you,” she heard herself say. “Was it?”

Charlie blinked at her. “What?”

“You didn’t accidentally do some creepy weird solo magic on me, did you?” It was difficult to keep her voice steady, not to raise it, even when Charlie’s eyes widened and he looked so small . “The voice, the wellies—it was all you!”

“What are you talking about?” Tara demanded. “Why would Charlie do that?”
Elle opened her mouth, to say what she didn’t know, all she knew was that she would probably come to regret it later. She shook her head, turned on her heel and slammed the bathroom door behind her.

Charlie stared at the wood of the door, faintly aware of Tara turning her concern on him. “Charlie? Are you okay? That was… unfair of her. But I think she’s just tired and… freaked out.”

“I—I’m okay. I’m just gonna…” He readjusted his grip on the clothes in his arms. “I’m just gonna go and get changed.”

✨

Charlie had been aiming for a spare bedroom, but when he’d hurried down the hall, away from Tara and the situation with Elle, the room he stumbled into was entirely better. 

It was a study, he realised, though one might have called it a library. Large, dark wooden bookcases lined every available stretch of wall. Underfoot, an antique-looking Persian rug. In the centre, a large mahogany desk complete with an ornate lamp with an emerald green shade. He moved to the window and looked out at what he assumed would have been a perfect view of the lake if it wasn’t pitch dark and storming outside.

He changed his clothes as quickly as he could. In lieu of pyjamas he’d opted for some soft joggers and the jumper Nick had worn all day yesterday. He tried to sort out the frizzy mess that was his air-dried hair, but with only the glass section of one bookcase to use, he gave up quickly.

A framed photo sat on the nearest shelf. It showed a younger Hassan with a small, excitable-looking child perched on his knee. Charlie peered closer and realised the child must be Elle. She looked about seven. Cute.

He gave one last ruffle to his hair, then turned to bundle his clothes into his arms. He had every intention of going back downstairs to hang out with the others, but as he eyed the vintage armchair in the corner, he longed to curl up there, maybe with a good book, rather than deal with the overwhelming reality.

A soft knock on the door brought him out of his reverie. 

“It’s me.”

“Come in.”

Nick stepped inside, his own change of clothes under his arm. “You look so adorable right now.” 

“So do you.”

Nick closed the door and dropped his clothes onto the chair. “Come here.” Charlie dumped his clothes, too, and folded himself into Nick’s embrace. They had been doing little else but cuddle all evening, but Charlie didn’t think he’d ever get tired of it.

“Tara told me what happened with Elle.” Nick drew Charlie’s face between his hands and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “She was way out of line, Char. I’m kind of pissed off with her, to be honest. Does she know you at all? There’s no way you would do something so needlessly cruel.”

Charlie couldn’t help but smile a little. Nick had so much faith in him. But at the same time… “But what if I did?” Charlie tangled his hands in the sides of Nick’s hoodie. “I—I didn’t mean to burn Ben’s arm. Who knows what I’m capable of? I could have filled Elle’s bath with weeds, I don’t know.”

Nick sighed. “Charlie, I know you know that’s not true.”

“Then what was it then? I know what it’s like to have something scary and strange happen only for there to be suddenly no evidence. After that fire in the cafe, I thought I was going crazy.”

“But that was before you knew about magic. Elle knows.”

“Yeah,” said Charlie. “And she knows about me.” He stepped away, flitted anxiously to the wall, looking at but not really seeing the books lining it.

“And about David,” said Nick. “It could have been him.”

Charlie frowned. “I don’t think it was David. It doesn’t make sense. Why would he target her specifically?”

“Who knows at this point, he’s been acting so oddly today.”

Charlie turned away from the books to find Nick leaning against the desk, arms folded, brow furrowed. He moved to lean beside him. “He seems to be trying to be nice.”

“That’s what he does,” Nick scoffed. “He’s done the same thing my entire life. Gaslights me into thinking he might actually love me and then turns it around at the last second.”

“Oh, Nick…” Charlie wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned his head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry he’s so shit. I hate the thought of you growing up with a brother like that . And I hate having to rely on him now to strengthen the coven.” Charlie lifted his head as Nick grimaced. He looked into his warm brown eyes. “I… I do want to know how I did solo magic. If I can figure it out, then I want to. I want to be able to protect you and everyone else if—if the time comes again.”

Several conflicting thoughts seemed to chase each other around Nick’s head then as he studied Charlie’s face. “F-from the outside,” he said, slowly. “It seemed like you went into some kind of daze afterwards. I thought you were just in shock at first, but whatever you did, I think it zapped your energy, like majorly. You were like a—a shell.”

Charlie chewed at his lip, trying to remember everything he had been trying to repress. “My brain was so foggy, I barely remember details. It’s all kind of a blur. Except…”

“What is it? What do you remember?”

“Fear,” said Charlie. “Fear, beyond anything I’ve ever felt in my life, and… anger. When Ben picked up your jar, I— that’s what made the fire happen? My… anger? And fear?”

Nick’s eyes widened, practically glittering. “Maybe it’s big emotions,” he said. “Big, intense feelings that… I dunno, helped push power out of you when you couldn’t do anything else to fight.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes! Of course, I knew you had the power, the question was how and you—you feel so much, it makes sense!”

Nick’s hands were so warm at Charlie’s hips and he couldn’t help but match his grin. He’d been feeling so awful, so disgusted with himself before Nick had arrived and now… Charlie kissed him deeply. Nick surged forward, collecting Charlie up and placing him on the desktop. 

“I feel big emotions around you all the time but it doesn’t make me do solo magic.” Nick bent to kiss his throat. 

Utterly breathless, Charlie curled his fingers around his biceps. “Maybe those emotions just haven’t been big enough.”

Nick drew back, and he looked so genuinely alarmed that Charlie burst out into giggles. He took a fistful of Nick’s hoodie and yanked him back down to him, Nick laughing, too. But soon, the laughter turned back into gasping breath. The sound mingled with the roar of the storm outside, as they twisted together against the desk.

“You were meant to be getting changed,” Charlie whispered between kisses. “Want some help?”

He tugged at the hem of Nick’s hoodie and, after a nod of consent, he dragged it up over his head. Nick tossed his t-shirt aside with it as Charlie did the same with his own.

“God,” Nick gasped, as they both took in the sight of each other shirtless like this for the first time. “You are so fucking hot.”

“Me? You—”

Nick shut him up with another kiss, taking his face in his hand. Charlie’s eyes fell closed, but he heard a soft click and realised that Nick was working on getting his belt undone. Charlie opened his eyes, confirmed his suspicion and slid off the desk. He had waited way too long to get Nick’s trousers off, there was no way he was about to let him do it for him. He grasped Nick’s shoulders and backed him up until his back collided with a bookcase.

“Charlie…” he gasped.

“Hey… Let me.” He hadn’t meant to be so rough with him, but he felt his pulse stutter, and his brown eyes glittered like he had zero complaints. Charlie kissed him all the way back into the bookcase, then put his mouth to his throat, more intoxicated than ever by the smell and taste of him, the warmth of his body. The soft glow of the desk lamp drifted above their heads… because it had left the desk long ago, along with several books which had freed themselves from their cases.

Charlie pressed his lips to Nick’s chest, felt the pounding of his heartbeat against his mouth. Was something about to catch fire? It seemed possible, so Charlie worked his way down slowly. He opened his mouth, glided his lips and tongue down Nick’s throat, ghosted his fingers over the sides of his ribs. Nick tangled his hand in Charlie’s hair, but nothing burned.

Charlie licked the sloping divots of muscle at his hips, pressing his thumbs into them. Nick’s breath hitched. Still, nothing caught fire.

Charlie’s heart stumbled. This was officially happening.

He skated his nose down in a line to Nick’s belt, kissing the velvety-soft skin right above his waistline, and only then he undid the buckle. Charlie slid his fingers into Nick’s jeans, then dragged his fingernails along his thighs as he pulled them down; Nick shivered, and kicked them the rest of the way off.

Charlie straightened up, and Nick’s hand dropped out of his hair. He caught it, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Is this okay?”

Nick grinned. Maybe something was burning—Nick’s eyes fixed on Charlie’s face.

“This is perfect—” He broke off as Charlie pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss into his palm, then dragged his tongue up to the sensitive spot between his thumb and index finger. Charlie rolled the skin there between his teeth, then licked his way up his finger, and slipped it into his mouth.

Nick’s free hand grasped at Charlie’s hips, and he drew a shuddering breath. Before Charlie could blink, he found himself on the desk again. Somehow, one-handed, Nick made very speedy work of Charlie’s joggers, his other hand cupping Charlie’s face, his thumb dragging over his lips.

Charlie felt the soft fabric come away in one hard pull, and gasped at the sudden rush of air against his skin. Nick’s fingers slipped into the elastic of Charlie’s boxers; he skated his mouth over Charlie’s hip bones, rippling goosebumps down his arms, down the back of his neck.

The wave of adrenaline crashing through Charlie had reached a new peak, and sprawled across the desk, he propped himself up on his elbows. “Nick.”

“Mmm?” The soft hum of his voice vibrated through Charlie’s skin, and his toes curled.

“Take those off.”

Nick pulled back, smirking. “Mine or yours?”

“Both, obviously!”

Charlie watched as Nick moved back a step and stripped off his boxers. He tossed them into the pile with the rest of their clothes.

It was Charlie’s first uninterrupted look at Nick’s body, and he was almost dizzy . The sweep of Nick’s muscles, all firm and graceful, taut and corded in in the way they get when he’s turned on. And he is turned on, which Charlie can see very clearly, now that nothing is in the way.

So, he has a lot to work with. That’s cool. That’s chill. That’s…

Charlie swallowed hard. He was staggered by the way that just looking was sending waves of tingling pleasure up his body. “You’re, um—well-proportioned, hey?”

Nick laughed, his blush spreading much further down than just his face. He stepped closer to Charlie on the desk and pressed another kiss to his hip bone. “Your turn?” He looked up at him through his eyelashes and waited for Charlie’s nod, for his murmured, “Yes,” then slid his boxers off.

Elevated as he was on the desk, and completely bare, Charlie tried not to show how very exposed he felt. How very vulnerable he felt after looking at Nick with all of his blushy confidence. He ran a hand through his frizzy curls and stared Nick right in the eyes.

Nick stood there, just looking at him, the way Charlie had been looking at him. Charlie’s underwear slipped out of his hand and tumbled to the floor. His eyes had gone a darker brown than Charlie had ever seen them, and his lips were pinned between his teeth.

“Fuck,” Nick finally said. “God!” He dove for his neck with his mouth with such enthusiasm that Charlie fell flat on his back on the desktop. He twined his arms around Nick and brought him down with him. “ I might be about to set something on fire by accident.”

“Let’s hope not,” Charlie stammered, his fingers raking down Nick’s spine. “Then Elle would be even more mad at me.”

A startled laugh escaped Nick’s throat, but Charlie only has a second to wonder at the sound before Nick flattened his body against his. For the first time, with no barriers between them.

A sharp, shivering exhale slipped past Charlie’s lips, and Nick let out a soft groan, his voice raspy and rough. Charlie wrapped his legs around him, and Nick slid a hand up Charlie’s outer thigh. He caught Charlie’s lip between his teeth, worked his tongue against his like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

And Charlie felt as if he might have ascended. This felt so good, he would have been fine doing only this, so long as they did it for hours and hours…

Nick pulled back and gazed down at him, brown eyes wide. He was breathless, smiling, with some wild, bright expression on his face.

“What?” Charlie asked, tracing his fingers along his collarbone.

“The way your magic feels right now… It’s… I’ve never felt anything like this.”

They’d never been naked and intertwined together, beneath a thunderstorm in the middle of nowhere before, so that made sense.

“I’m really enjoying myself,” said Charlie, folding his arms around Nick’s neck. Charlie had thought his cheeks were at maximum blush, but the second he realised what he had said, they flared even more. But Nick’s huge smile grew wider, and he bent to brush his lips against Charlie’s ear.

“Charlie,” he whispered, and that single sound sent a wave of heat rolling through him.

Nick kissed him again, this time so deeply that everything else became fuzzy; Charlie couldn’t think of anything but him, the feeling of his glossy auburn hair between his fingers, his body pressed against his own.

Nick drew back and touched his fingers to Charlie’s mouth. Charlie took his wrist in his hands, then started to nibble and lick each individual joint, every swell of muscle, intending to give him a long and luxurious treatment. But as soon as Nick’s fingers were slick again, he drew them away, and drifted them down Charlie’s body.

His hand traced down his thigh, then back up. His fingers wrapped around him and Charlie shuddered beneath his touch. He dropped his head back onto the mahogany as Nick slowly started to build a rhythm. Charlie would have closed his eyes, but Nick locked his gaze in his own and held it there, and Charlie couldn’t look away, couldn’t do anything. Only cling to him tightly, his fingertips digging into the muscle of his shoulders.

Nick seemed to be enjoying this as much as Charlie was, feeding on the tremors of Charlie’s body, the breathless sounds rising up and out of his mouth. Charlie could see it in his eyes, since he still had him nailed to the desk with that rich-honey stare.

No , Charlie thought desperately. He’d been waiting too long, and this felt so fucking good, and—it was about to be over, way too soon. He could tell, especially as Nick dipped his head to push a kiss to the hollow of Charlie’s throat. His elbow was braced beside Charlie’s head; a vein in his arm raised from the effort. Charlie turned his head and dragged his tongue over it.

Nick made a deep, stuttering sound against Charlie’s throat, and Charlie knew there was no point even trying to put off what was about to happen —

He let out a moan of protest as Nick’s hand abruptly eased up.

“Don’t you dare,” Nick whispered, a little smile on his face. “Not yet. I’m not done with you.”

Charlie wasn’t sure what would be on the play menu for their first time doing something like this, so it was a delightful surprise when Nick started kissing his way down his stomach, but—

He stopped and caught Charlie’s eye again, his mouth only a breath away from where Charlie needed it to be. What was he waiting for?

“Nick, please.” Charlie would have been furious if he could focus on anything but the warmth of Nick’s breath against him. He could feel every inhale, every exhale.

But still, Nick waited there. Charlie could hardly take it anymore. In his desperation, he slid his fingers into Nick’s hair and tried to push his head down—but he wouldn’t let him.

“Char…” Nick’s voice was a low, husky purr. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long. I’m taking a second to enjoy the view.” He cocked his head to the side. “And… it’s fun to watch you squirm.”

“Okay, you know what?” Charlie propped himself up on his elbows to glare at him. “I’m gonna—”

He fell back against the desk, choking on his words. His hands fumbled their way back into Nick’s hair, and he held on tight. He flung an arm over his mouth, to stifle what would otherwise have been a stupid amount of noise. His name rode a dazed laugh out of Charlie’s mouth. Not because anything was funny, but because Charlie was blissed-out to the point of giddiness.

Charlie’s hips pushed up off the bed, chasing the heat of his mouth, before he collapsed, breathing like he’d just run a marathon.

Nick rolled to the side, careful not to fall off the desk as he dragged the back of his hand over his lips.

It took Charlie a moment to blink himself back into the real world. When he did, he grabbed Nick’s wrist and yanked him back up towards him. There was no way they were done.

Charlie rolled them so Nick was on his back, but he didn’t dive in straight away. Nick had nearly teased him to death, so it was payback time. 

By the time Charlie pulled back to catch his breath, Nick’s head was tipped back, his eyes closed, lips slightly parted. His cheeks had turned a burnt crimson. Charlie had to stop and absorb the sight for a moment. There he was, Nick, his person, bare and unwound beneath him, all skin and heightened breath, and with that look on his face. Charlie could almost laugh, but—he had better things to be doing.

Enough teasing.

He dropped his head, and began with a long, leisurely swirl of his tongue. A quiet “fuck” escaped Nick’s mouth. His hand swept into Charlie’s hair, his breathing ragged and deep. Charlie took his time with him, going slowly. He figured that one, thoughtful, well-placed touch was worth ten sloppy ones, and he was not about to rush towards their end goal. He wanted to build it in layers of pleasure, wanted to find out how many Nick could take.

To his credit, he held out for quite a few. Charlie went slowly, meticulously, paying close attention to the way his body tensed and relaxed at each movement. He left just enough time for Nick to fully absorb the impact of each touch before Charlie moved onto the next. He listened to the way his breaths began to melt and drag together, until they suddenly turned short and sharp.

Charlie felt a tremor move through him. He looked up and found him watching him, panting, propped up on an elbow, his eyebrows drawn together.

Charlie sank his fingernails into his thighs, and pushed him over the edge. Nick tightened his grip in Charlie’s hair, and let out a sharp, hoarse sound Charlie thought he’d probably never forget for the rest of his life.

It took a long, long moment for Nick’s breathing to slow down.

When it did, he reached for him, and drew him close. Charlie snuggled up at his side the best he could on the hard wooden desk. For a few minutes, the only sound was the hammering of the downpour on the roof, and the fluttering of the books in flight above them, of the lamp bumping against the ceiling.

“Oh my god,” said Nick, staring up at the tumbling objects.

“That was—” Charlie was still out of breath. “Whatever that was, that was not solo magic.”

“Definitely not.”

“And my brain is all foggy in an entirely different, much much nicer way.”

Nick tipped his head to look at him, grinning, and they both burst into dazed laughter. He squeezed Charlie closer to him, and Charlie planted a gentle kiss on his jaw.

Charlie fell silent, gazing upwards. The emerald lamp, still bobbing around the ceiling, was altogether closer than it should have been, he noticed. The worn, soft pages of a book brushed his foot on its way past.

“What are you looking at, Char? Come back here.”

“Nick, the desk. It’s floating.”

With some reluctance, Nick detached himself from Charlie’s jaw to peer down at the floor. Where it lay several metres below them. He gasped and moved back so suddenly, he almost sent Charlie toppling over the other side. “Oh my god, don’t fall!” They grasped onto each other, keeping as much to the middle of the admittedly large desk as they could. Their eyes met, and they burst into giggles.

“Okay, let’s—we can fix this…”

“Okay, okay…”

There was no need to move, or to close their eyes, there was only to think and breathe and feel… and slowly, gently, the desk beneath them floated back into place on the floor. The books swooped and danced back into their homes and finally, as Nick and Charlie sat up, the lamp landed in its spot where their heads had been a moment before.

They climbed off the desk, still giddy and chuckling to themselves, poking and prodding at each other as they redressed.

“Maybe it’s only big, negative emotions that trigger me,” said Charlie, letting Nick’s jumper fall down over his head.

Nick stood up from the chair where he’d been pulling on some cosy socks. “Are you sure?” He smirked. His hair was a disaster. “Maybe we should test it again?”

Charlie grinned and patted his cheek. He kissed him softly. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

There was a knock on the door. And both of them jumped.

A second later, the door opened and Tao stepped inside. And saw their ruffled states, saw their undoubtedly flushed faces.

“Oh god,” Tao groaned. “Please, tell me you were not just having sex in Elle’s grandpa’s very tasteful and classy library?”

Nick and Charlie shifted awkwardly, guilty.

“Ugh!” Tao turned away from the pair of them, eyes screwed shut. “We’re playing truth or dare in the living room if you want to join.”

“Really?” said Charlie. “I was just thinking it was bedtime.”

Tao raised his eyebrows. “Not all of us are as insatiable as you two.”

Charlie shut the door behind them. “I don’t believe that for a second, Tao Xu.”

✨

Things had turned out so much easier than Pauline could ever have expected. Yes, cleaning out Hassan’s house had not been fun. The measly cleaning spells she’d managed to remember channelled through the crystal had helped, but humans were gross when long dead. She could still smell bleach on her fingertips, but it was better than the alternative. Richard going to prison would not be ideal, not when he was the only person left who knew her, truly and properly. Even if he was annoyingly buttoned up when he wasn’t annoyingly jovial. But being able to do the next part of her task in the comfort of her own home, that was nice.

She managed to lug Kathleen into her living room with relative ease. The older woman was small and light, her body looking frailer and older than ever as her head lolled against the armrest of the sofa.

“I won’t lie,” said Pauline, taking a breath and standing up. “I’ve never really liked you. And not just because you and the elders took away our power—which, of course, would be reason enough. Long before that, I always found you to be smug and self-righteous. And dull. Which is why I’m so pleased to do this spell.”

She knelt close to where Kathleen lay, and took out the crystal. 

“If I can control everything you say and do, then I think we could be great friends, hmm? And isn’t that what witchcraft and covens are all about? Friendship? I’m sure you’ll agree… in just a moment.” And she lifted the crystal.

✨

Charlie couldn’t find the capacity to be too embarrassed. He didn’t want to let Nick go any time soon, and he clung right back as they joined the others in the living room. They sank onto the sofa beside Isaac, feeling distinctly ruffled, but not caring in the slightest. Not even when Tao announced how he’d found them to the group. “In the library of all places!”

“Wooo! Go Nick and Charlie!” Darcy cheered, past tipsy and now in full drunk territory. “Against a bookcase, very classy.”

“Desk,” Nick muttered, accepting Tao’s offered beer and taking a sip. “There was a desk.”

Darcy’s jaw dropped open. The stunned silence was only broken by a strange choking noise—David, who was nursing his own beer in an armchair, spluttered and coughed, determinedly not looking either Nick or Charlie in the eye.

“I knew sending Nick to cheer you up would work,” said Tara, giggling. “But I didn’t realise just how much.”

Charlie laughed. “Yeah, thanks, Tara.” He leaned against Nick beside him on the sofa and Nick draped an arm around him. “He definitely helped.”

“Hooray for desk sex!” Darcy cried, throwing their arms in the air. “Now, let’s play truth or dare.”

“We are way too sober for this,” Nick murmured to Charlie as Darcy selected a bottle to spin.

“I’m not complaining,” Charlie whispered. “We wouldn’t have been able to do what we just did if we were drunk.”

Nick grinned and nuzzled his nose into Charlie’s hair. “True.”

Isaac set his book aside, Elle poured more wine, and Tao settled in the remaining armchair. Darcy placed the half-empty vodka bottle in the middle of the coffee table and cleared the space around it. “Ready?” They spun the bottle. “Truth or dare, Princess T?”

Tara grinned. “Dare.”

“I dare you… to remove a sock using only your teeth.”

“That’s so hard, oh my god,” said Tao.

“Hm,” said Tara. “How tame.”

Expression calmly neutral, Tara reached down with her mouth, grasped her sock in her teeth and pulled. The sock easily slipped off her foot until it was dangling from her teeth. She plucked it free and whapped Darcy over the head with it, giggling.

“Alright, alright, I’m impressed, I’m impressed,” Darcy laughed, batting their girlfriend away. “Your turn to spin.”

Tara replaced her sock onto her foot, then spun the bottle. “Elle, truth or dare?”

The other girl blinked across at her, as if her head had been elsewhere. She waved her hand. “Truth, I suppose.”

Tara thought for a moment. “Oh, I know! Rank everyone else in the room from favourite to least favourite.”

“What?” Tao cried. “That’s not fair!”

“Ugh!” Elle groaned. “Tao, everyone else, David. End of.”

At once, Tao turned from indignant to jubilant. “Aw, babe, I’m your favourite?”

“Of course you are silly.” She managed a small smile, though she still seemed preoccupied. Charlie could tell Nick was holding his tongue. Even if Charlie was sympathetic to Elle’s struggles, he was also secretly pleased at Nick’s indignance on his behalf.

“Elle, your turn,” Darcy prodded.

She did so. It landed on David.

“I’m not playing.”

“Why not?” Darcy whined. “You too chicken?”

David merely glared at them. When they didn’t back down, and he noticed everyone watching him expectantly, too, he let out a groan of annoyance. He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Dare.”

Elle sank back against the sofa cushions, resting her wine glass against her forehead, eyes closed. After several long moments, she opened them and sighed. “I give up. Someone else think of one.”

“I dare you,” said Charlie. “To say one nice thing about each person in the room.”

Nick snorted, mouth agape.

“Yes, Charlie!” Darcy lifted their cup in celebration of such a good dare. Then, everyone fell quiet once again to watch the battle of emotions playing across David’s face. Slowly, he turned to the first person on his left. Tara. She smiled expectantly, trying not to laugh.

“Nick had a crush on you when he was thirteen and it was very embarrassing.” David turned quickly to Darcy. “You’re kind of terrifying.” Darcy gave a little bow. David turned to Elle. “I’ve seen your art on Instagram. Some of it’s good.” Tao. “That pasta you made was really nice.” Isaac. “You’ve never said anything backhanded or rude to me, unlike the others.” Charlie.

David seemed to get stuck on Charlie. “Um…”

“Go on, David,” Tara giggled. “You can do it.”

Charlie tried not to laugh at the utter terror on David’s face. He felt Nick’s arm tense around his shoulders and made an effort to cuddle himself closer. “You don’t have to force yourself if you can’t think of anything.”

Nick tsked, scoffed, and to stop himself from snapping at his brother, took a sip of his drink.

David sipped, too, closed his eyes, took a breath, then mumbled, “Youseemtomakemybrotherhappy.”

Everyone stared at him, incredulous.

“What?” Darcy yelled. “I didn’t get that.”

David opened his eyes but still couldn’t look directly at Charlie. “You seem to make my brother happy.” He took another, much bigger swig of his beer. “There,” he said. “Done.”

The others gazed at David, unable to believe he could come out with something so sweet and lovely.

“Um, hang on,” said Charlie. “You didn’t say anything about Nick.”

“He doesn’t have to,” said Nick quickly, shaking his head. “There isn’t anything—”

“One time you made me play tea parties with you and, even though I pretended to hate it, I actually had a pretty fun time.”

Nick stared. “The time when you poured juice all over Pooh and Piglet and they were stained forever?”

“Shit,” said David. “Yeah, I forgot about that. S-sorry.”

Charlie patted Nick’s arm as he pouted. The image of little Nick playing tea parties with Winnie the Pooh characters was entirely too adorable, despite little David. It was nice to think of them getting along and playing together even if it had ended in a juice-based disaster.

“There you go,” said Tara. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

“Your turn to spin,” said Darcy.

David leaned forward to spin the bottle. A moment later, and Charlie found the bottle lid facing him. 

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

Unlike his list of nice things, David seemed to have a dare locked and loaded. “I dare you to do solo magic. Right here, right now.”

An uncomfortable silence descended on the eight of them. Every single eye turned to look at Charlie, who squirmed in his seat.

“David, no,” said Nick. “Think of something else.”

“Charlie can defend himself, surely,” said David.

“Look,” said Charlie on an exhale. “I would do it if I knew how.” He glanced sideways at Nick, who looked even more worried about this than Charlie felt. “We think it might be something to do with big, negative emotions, but unless you plan to scare the shit out of me or make me really, really angry, then I’m not sure it’s gonna happen I’m afraid.”

Even though they tried not to show it, Charlie could tell they were all disappointed. Elle still couldn’t seem to look at him directly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I understand that you got your hopes up, but… I’m just sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” said Nick. He rubbed a hand over Charlie’s shoulder. “Can the rest of you please stop poking at Charlie to do it? At least until we figure it out a bit more. It wasn’t exactly a fun experience for him the first time around—I don’t know if any of you remember the blood coming from his nose, but I fucking do. Anyone who asks again is just being fucking selfish…” 

The last part came out as more of a mumble, but Charlie could tell the others heard it, loud and clear. He met Nick’s eye, asking silently if he was okay. Nick nodded, then let his head fall onto Charlie’s shoulder. He was starting to wonder who had been more traumatised by the solo magic thing, himself or Nick.

“I’m really sorry, Charlie,” said Isaac. “I remember the blood, too. No one should ever be forced to do something that makes you look like and feel like that afterwards.”

“Thanks, Isaac,” said Charlie. “Even though you’ve nothing to apologise for.”

“We’re sorry, too,” said Tao. “Really.”

The others nodded in agreement. Well, except David who had flopped back in his chair, another beer acquired from somewhere, once again channelling moody toddler.

And except for Elle. “Then why did you put those weeds in my bath?”

All eyes turned to her, gobsmacked. Nick raised his head to glare at her.

“Elle,” said Tara. “That wasn’t Charlie, we’ve been through this.”

“Why would he do something like that?” said Isaac.

“I don’t know, okay!” Elle put down her wine and rubbed her hands over her eyes. “But something freaky and horrible is going on—ever since we got here—and none of you can see it!”

“Elle,” said Tao, as shocked as the rest of them. He reached out a tentative hand. “What’s going on?”

Dodging his offer of comfort, Elle shot to her feet, jittery and panicked. There was a blazing heat in her dark eyes which Charlie had never seen there before, not to this extent. “You need to sort your shit out, Charlie, before someone you actually care about gets hurt!”

“What the fuck?” Nick was on his feet before any of the others could react. “Don’t talk to him like that!”

“That’s not fair, Elle.”

“Why would he even—?”

“I don’t understand—”

“How could you accuse Charlie?”

Elle’s eyes shone as she looked around at them all. She swallowed hard, like she was forcing back tears. Charlie didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to convince her. The complimentary words of his other friends barely permeated. It didn’t matter what he had or hadn’t done. Something had been happening to Elle all night? And none of the others had noticed? Not even Tao?

He couldn’t blame Elle for dodging Tao’s offered comfort yet again. Couldn’t blame her for wanting to get away from all of them. She stormed out of the room, and they listened as she yanked the front door open. Charlie leapt to his feet. “Let me talk to her. No, Tao, let me.”

Out in the hall, Charlie shoved his feet into his still-drying shoes, shrugged on his still-damp coat, then followed Elle out into the rain. “Elle?” he called. “You out here?”

The rain had lessened, but the clouds overhead were still dark and crackling with thunder. Charlie peered around at the front driveway. There was no sign of Elle. Light was streaming from her car. He crunched closer along the gravel and realised the car was in fact idling, the driver’s side door hanging open. Frowning, Charlie moved close enough to look inside. He turned off the engine. The sound of the engine died as well as the light, leaving only that from the house to illuminate the coat thrown hastily onto the passenger seat. He picked it up. It was Elle’s.

He closed the car door and hugged the coat to himself as he edged towards the treeline. The lake glimmered in the distance, and between himself and it, a dense layer of trees and foliage, perfect for getting lost in.

Just then, a small figure in blue darted between the trees. 

There and gone again in a second. 

“Elle?” 

But Elle hadn’t been wearing blue. With no other option, Charlie hurried after them, into the woods. “Elle?” 

The ground was squelchy and slippery underfoot, the rain turning the fallen leaves to sludge. He wanted to go faster but with the trees so tightly packed together, it was difficult not to trip over in the dark. He stopped a little way in to orient himself and think about this for a second, when a little boy stepped out from behind a nearby tree. He looked about seven. He just stood there, observing Charlie curiously, his blue raincoat shiney with water.

“Hi,” said Charlie. “Are you alright? Where are your parents?”

The boy merely considered him for a moment longer, then turned and ran back off into the trees.

“Hey! Wait for me!” Charlie sprinted after him, stumbling over roots and catching himself on low-hanging branches. The boy was visible just ahead, ducking and diving nimbly, as if he knew these woods well. But then the flash of blue coat disappeared behind a tree.

Charlie caught up quickly, ducked around the tree after him, only to find the boy nowhere in sight. He whirled around. Where had he gone? He circled the tree until he was back where he’d started—and walked straight into Elle.

“Oh my god!” he gasped. “Elle, you scared me.”

She merely blinked, rainwater clinging to her eyelashes, her floaty cardigan sodden. Charlie held out the coat to her, then draped it around her shoulders when she made no move to take it. The garment didn’t do much, he had to admit, it was pretty soggy from its trip with him through the woods.

“There really is a little boy out here,” he said.

“She’s a girl.”

Charlie looked around. The child had truly vanished. “Oh. How do you—?”

“Wait,” said Elle, snapping out of some kind of daze, as if until that moment she hadn’t registered Charlie’s presence at all. “You saw her?”

“Yes. Just a second ago. Who…?”

“She’s… me.”

Charlie could only stare at her in shock. His hands were freezing despite them being buried deep in his pockets.

“I can’t explain it,” she said. “All I know is that child is me.”

“But how… how is that possible?”

“I don’t know. But I remember the last time I wore that exact outfit. Those boots and the raincoat. I was seven. I was here for the summer and… I wandered down to the lake by myself.”

Charlie swallowed. Dread was forming in his stomach and he suddenly wanted to get the two of them out of there as quickly as he could. “Elle, it’s dark and late. It’s—it’s been a weird night.”

“I was throwing rocks into the water,” Elle continued, as if she hadn’t heard him. “And I walked out onto the dock so I could throw them further. I was standing right up at the edge—”

“Why don’t we go and find Tao?”

“I reached back and threw one as hard as I could and then suddenly, I was underwater and I couldn’t breathe. And then, I remember trying to scream and—and water rushing into my lungs. I could feel my whole body shutting down. And I remember the panic. I was so scared.”

“Oh, Elle…”

“And then… I felt a hand on my arm, and I was pulled up onto the dock. It was my grandpa. He saved my life.”

“Wow,” said Charlie, wanting to hug her. “I’m glad he was there. I’m glad you were alright.”

Elle’s eyes had grown distant as she told her story but they changed then. They fixated on something past Charlie’s shoulder, something deeper into the woods. “That child,” she murmured. “She’s here for a reason.”

And Elle brushed past Charlie and sprinted further into the woods.

“Elle, wait!” With no choice but to follow—he didn’t want to leave her out there on her own—he hurtled after her, letting them both be swallowed up by the darkness between the trees. Charlie was fast, he always had been, but Elle wasn’t exactly slow, and she’d had a head start.

“Did you hear that?” she yelled back at him, her voice almost inaudible as the rain picked up into a true shower.

Charlie’s shout disappeared completely into a clap of thunder. It was an effort to keep on his feet, the leaves strewn across the ground dangerously slick. He was just considering trying for some phone signal, for backup, when the texture underfoot changed. He burst out of the trees after Elle, onto the silty, sandy lake bank.

Charlie stopped, gasping for breath, but Elle kept running, right out into the water. “She fell!” She continued to wade further in under she was up to her knees. “Where are you?” she yelled. “Can you hear me?”

“Elle!” Charlie cried, hurrying to the edge of the water. “There’s no one out there!”

He was already drenched and freezing, what difference would a dip in the lake make? Only, the water was pitch black and Charlie wasn’t the most fond of large expanses of water.

“What is she doing?” came a shout from behind him. Charlie whirled around and let out a breath. Tao appeared between the trees, Isaac, Nick and the others trailing after him.

“The child she kept seeing,” said Charlie, sinking against Nick’s side. “She thinks she’s in the lake but I don’t understand how she can be—she thinks it’s her… or a younger version of her.”

But Tao and Isaac were already in the water, wading their way after Elle.“She fell in the water,” she kept murmuring. “We have to find her.” She strode even further in, submerging herself to her waist. 

Tao and Isaac reached her, wrapped their arms around her cautiously, trying to encourage her to turn around. On the bank, Charlie could see her shoulders shaking. From the cold or crying he couldn’t tell.

“There’s no one in there,” Tao yelled over the rain. “Let’s go back inside, yeah?”

“Let go of me!” She shoved at his arms. “She fell in the water!”

“Elle!” Charlie cried, hands cupped around his mouth. “Whatever she is, she’s not in the water, I promise!”

“Yes, she is!” Elle hissed. “She fell in the water! We have to find her!” Again, she tried to shake Tao and Isaac off of her, but they only wrapped her tighter in their arms, trying to walk her back to the bank. “Get off me!” she cried. “Get off!”

The boys stopped trying to move her at once, and Isaac let her go. But Tao hung on, holding her tight against his chest, just hugging her and whispering reassurances that were lost on the wind to anyone but her.

“Charlie saw her, too!” Elle sobbed. “Charlie saw her!”

“Breathe,” Tao murmured. “I know, I believe you, I believe you. Let’s get back to the house, let’s get dry.”

Finally, Elle allowed herself to be turned around and let Tao and Isaac guide her back through the shallows, onto the sandy bank. Tara and Darcy looked as if they wanted to go to her, to envelope her into their own embraces, but they kept back. All three of them were shivering like crazy, though none more so than Elle. Charlie caught sight of David leaning against a tree at the very edge of the woods, observing the scene from afar.

“Come on.” Nick tugged on Charlie’s hand to get him to move. “Let’s get back in the warm.”

He went to follow him, suddenly bone-tired. But then, a huge crack of thunder seemed to shake the entire sky. Nick swore loudly. Lighting forked the clouds in two, illuminating the lake and the small wooden dock several metres away. The dock Elle had mentioned.

And there she was.

The little girl in the blue raincoat and the yellow wellies—standing on the very edge of the dock.

“Char?”

No. The dread which had been building rose into such an intensity that it moved Charlie’s frozen feet before his brain could even comprehend why. Nick’s concerned shouts faded into the background as he burst into a sprint. “Charlie!”

“What’s he doing?”

“Where’s he going?”

“Charlie!?”

Charlie reached the end of the dock. The child was gone. And his heart dropped. She was in the water. Little Elle was in the water. And she was going to drown. The wooden planks were worn and old but he sprinted down them, only half aware of Nick following behind him.

“Charlie?!”

He threw himself down onto the edge of the dock as a ringing filled his ears, filled everything, until there was nothing but himself, his drowning friend and the deep dark waters separating them. He flung his hands out over the water, his own fingers so pale, almost ghostly in the dim light. He leaned forward, further and further until his hands slipped just under the surface.

Arms folded around him from behind and tried to pull him back, but Charlie resisted. He couldn’t stop, he had to find her, he couldn’t let her drown, he couldn’t.

“Charlie,” Nick gasped. “Charlie, please.”

The hitch in Nick’s voice, the fear in his words, in the way he was holding him, it sunk into Charlie’s skin, into his bones. 

And the water began to bubble around his hands. Gently at first, then it grew more violent, until they were splashing him in the face. But he still couldn’t move. He still wasn’t done. The entire lake rippled and rippled, Charlie’s hands the epicentre of it all. There was a tug in his gut. He pulled his hands away and, with a tremendous gush of water, something floated to the surface to replace them.

The ringing in his ears stopped and the world came back to him in a rush.

And Charlie screamed.

The body was half-decayed, the little remaining flesh red and patchy, the mouth and eyes gaping and skeletal.

He collapsed backwards into Nick’s arms, and this time let him pull him away from the edge of the dock. Something metallic mixed with the rain in his mouth, and he realised he was still screaming. A trembling hand cupped his soggy cheek and he let Nick guide his face away from the horrific sight in the water, to the safety of his rain-drenched shoulder.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god…” Nick clung to him, buried his own head in his shoulder, trying not to be sick. Charlie was almost a deadweight across his lap, and even as he clenched his eyes closed, he could still see it—the body.

“Holy shit,” came a gasp from somewhere above them. A heavy hand grasped Nick’s shoulder, then David was at his side. More footsteps hurried down the dock towards them. He heard his friends distant shouts and screams, heard David yell— “Don’t fucking look!”

Charlie was shaking, Charlie was bleeding, Charlie’s eyes were blank with terror.

But Nick wouldn’t let him go, wouldn’t let him endure this alone. He had been strong and oh so brave—now it was Nick’s turn.

The storm overhead and the one in Nick’s heart quietened just enough for him to hear Elle’s whispered cry. “That’s my grandpa.”

✨

Tao called Mr Argent as soon as they got inside, then disappeared with Elle into an upstairs bedroom. None of the others talked much. Everyone had to get dry again, with only the clothes they’d packed for tomorrow left to wear. David collapsed into his usual armchair and conked out in seconds. Isaac occupied himself with cleaning the dishes from dinner by hand. Tara tidied the living room of sleepover debris before Darcy pulled her down onto the sofa where they disappeared beneath a thick woollen blanket.

Nick had carried Charlie all the way from the dock, through the woods, into the spare room, gathering their bags on the way past. He found a fresh towel in the en suite and draped it around Charlie’s shoulders as he cleaned the blood from his nose with a warm flannel. 

There had been no need to carry him all the way, as Charlie had mumbled to him halfway through the woods, but Nick was glad he had ignored him. The second Nick was done with the flannel, Charlie curled up on top of the covers and was asleep. Unwilling to move him, when Nick was dry again himself, he folded the duvet up and around his beautifully yet terrifyingly powerful boyfriend, then slipped into the cocoon beside him.

One second, Nick was closing his eyes, and the next he was being woken again by the arrival of Mr Argent, an ambulance and a police car.

He wanted to yell at them all to piss off for a bit longer, if only so Charlie could get the sleep he deserved. But then the two of them were prying themselves from the warmth of the bed and packing their things into their bags. It was four in the morning. The rain had stopped. And they were going home.

In the entranceway, they found Elle in the circle of her father’s arms. “He’s gone,” she murmured into his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Ellie,” he said, gripping her tight. “I’m so sorry.”

He had already spoken to emergency services. They were extracting Hassan’s body. They were transporting him to the nearest mortuary for checks.

Nick hadn’t even considered the fact the skeletal horror from the lake was a man. A man with a name and a granddaughter. Hassan Eskander. Elle’s grandpa.

“Let’s go home,” said Mr Argent. “I’ll drive your car. I can come and pick mine up later.”

Outside, Elle tugged Tao along into her car, Tara and Darcy clambering in after them. Nick was so tired, he felt kind of queasy. He managed to get his boot open on his third try, and didn’t even protest David taking his and Charlie’s bags for them and lugging them into the boot.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” David asked when Nick reached for the driver’s side door.

“I-I’ll be fine.”

David shook his head. “Let me.”

“You’re not on my insurance.”

“I’m not gonna crash, jesus…” David barged past him and climbed into the car.

Isaac got into the front, leaving Nick with no option but to follow Charlie into the back. Which was fine by him. Charlie’s eyes were clearer now, bright and blue, as they should be, but he was still exhausted, still quiet and his limbs heavy as he leaned against Nick.

As David drove, Nick leaned right back. Isaac fell asleep almost at once, and Nick had thought Charlie was asleep too, until, half an hour from home, David finally broke the silence.

“You managed to do it then? Solo magic?”

“Yeah,” said Charlie. “I did.” His voice was small and hoarse. “I can’t believe that was Elle’s grandpa. He looked like he’d been dead for a long time. And somehow, he used Elle’s memories to reach out to her, so he would be found. How is that possible?”

“It’s like I said before,” said David. “When a witch dies, their energy hangs around. It can be pretty powerful stuff. What I don’t get is how you saw what Elle was seeing, when none of the rest of us could.”

Charlie shrugged, his brow deeply furrowed. “It was like as soon as I realised the child was Elle, I felt connected to her—just like now-time Elle. And when I saw her on that dock, I was convinced, just like Elle, that she was drowning in that big, dark, cold lake… It was terrifying. I thought I was about to pull her out of the lake—little, seven-year-old Elle.”

Nick and Charlie looked at each other then. If that hadn’t been a big, negative emotion, Nick didn’t know what else would qualify.

“But seeing someone else’s memories,” said David. “That’s some big-time magic.”

Charlie snuggled closer to Nick. “I get it,” he said. “I’m a freak. As per usual.”

“No,” said David. “Just… full of surprises.”

They arrived in Truham as the sun rose. They dropped Isaac home, watched him slope, half-asleep to his door, then continued onwards to Britannia Road.

“Told you I wouldn’t crash,” said David as he pulled up outside Charlie’s house.

“There’s still time,” said Nick. He went to follow Charlie out of the car, but turned back before he could shut the door. “You know,” he said. “As much as I thought your nice comments about the others were pretty lackluster, what you said to Charlie… about him making me happy…”

“Ugh!” David groaned. “Fuck off…”

“Shut up.” Nick gripped the car door handle and forced himself not to snap. “I just wanted to say, I appreciated it, and I know Charlie did, too. You were right, he does make me happy. I’m glad you finally understand that.”

David rolled his eyes but Nick could have sworn there was the hint of a smile there, too. “Are you done?”

“For now.”

He watched his brother drive away in his car, his arm around Charlie and Charlie’s arm around him. They walked like that to the door and stepped inside the house that was becoming as familiar to Nick as his own.

“Gran?” Charlie called. “Are you home?”

In the kitchen, Kathleen looked up from the tea she was pouring and smiled. “Morning.”

“Gran…” Charlie went to her and pulled her into a hug. When Nick merely stood there in the doorway, watching, Charlie reached out a hand to tug him into the fold, too. He draped his arms around both of them and breathed.

“Oh, how are you both?” Kathleen said when they drew apart. “You both look shattered.”

“Gran, something terrible has happened,” said Charlie. “It’s Hassan. He’s dead.”

“Oh my god.”

“They think he had a heart attack and fell into the lake.”

“I was just there,” said Kathleen. Her cheeks went pale as she sank against the counter.

“I assumed when he didn’t answer he was away.”

Nick and Charlie exchanged looks of alarm. “You didn’t see him?”

Kathleen shook her head. “I never made it inside.”

“But…” Charlie reached into his bag. “I found your scarf inside his house. Isn’t this yours?” He showed her the purple scarf he had found on the back of the armchair in Hassan’s living room.

“Yes,” said Kathleen, taking the fabric in her hands. “It is. That’s strange.”

“Yes,” said Charlie. “It is.”

✨

David hugged his mum, patted his dog, then scurried upstairs, hoping to sleep for the rest of the day. The alternative was not appealing. Now what was he supposed to do? This was exactly what he didn’t want to happen. Feelings— Ugh! They always ruined everything. But Nick had always been the soft one, always so squishy and caring and quick to cry and laugh and hug.

His fucking useless, infuriatingly lovely little brother.

But David didn’t get his nap. Didn’t get his peace and quiet and relaxation.

He entered his bedroom to find the very last person he wanted to see lurking by the window.

“How did you get in here?”

Harry Greene turned away from the window, casual as ever, hair as tall as ever. “I was eager to know how your trip went.”

David sighed. He chucked his bag down. “Instructive.”

“Do share.”

“Charlie’s magic is stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced.”

“And?”

“Someone killed an elder—Hassan Eskander. Richard Argent’s father-in-law. But whoever did it messed it up. His energy came back and led us straight to the body.”

“Do you know who did it?”

“No,” said David. “But there are definitely other forces at play besides us. Someone else is targeting witches.”

“Then we need to strike now,” said Harry. “We need to kill Charlie and his coven and move on.”

David sank onto his bed, thinking hard. “There’s something about him I’m missing. That Blackwood guy left him some kind of warning—I need to figure out what it was.”

“No.” Harry threw the window open. “It’s time for the witches to die. And all that’s left for you to do is decide whether you’re still one of them.”

Chapter Text

chapter seventeen: a little heat

“What does any of this mean?”

“I don’t know,” said Kathleen. “There’s nothing familiar here at all.”

She and Charlie were seated at the kitchen table, Kathleen studying the parchment over her cornflakes.

“Not even those initials?”

Kathleen sighed and handed the paper back. “I wish I recognised any of this, but I don’t. What exactly did Mr Blackwood say to you when he gave you this?”

“Only that I was in danger and that he’d left me something. But then the call disconnected and five minutes later, we were attacked by witch hunters. I called his shop again last night and there was still no answer.”

Having slept for most of the day after coming home from Hassan’s, Charlie had been wide awake by the time Nick had gone home and night had fallen again. He’d spent hours scanning the parchment for any details they might have missed, anything he might glean from the scribbled words.

“Keep trying,” said Kathleen, getting up to clear their empty bowls. “I’ll check with Hassan. He might be able to help.”

Charlie went to tuck the parchment into his school bag where he’d left it by the door, then paused when he realised what she’d said. “Elle’s grandpa?”

“Yes.” Kathleen pottered about, packing her lunchbox for work. “He’s an elder, and we’re old friends.”

“Gran,” Charlie let his bag slip back out of his hands and stared at her, “he died.”

“What?” She looked up from her task and met his eye across the kitchen. “Oh… of—of course he did.” She gave her head a little shake. “I’m sorry, it’s been a stressful week. I’ve not been sleeping well.” She caught sight of his undoubtedly concerned look. “Don’t worry, I’m fine, I promise.”

“Okay.” Charlie swung his bag onto his back and tried for a smile. “Alright. I’d better get to school. But I’ll let you know if I can get a hold of Mr Blackwood.”

“Have a good day.”

“You, too.”

It was strange to think he was about to start his second term at Truham Grammar.

So much had happened in two months. His life had changed and then changed again, over and over, that he barely recognised who he was now, or who he had been before. He had been so boring. So weak and bullied and alone. That Charlie had a dad, but what else? He certainly didn't have a boyfriend to greet him so enthusiastically outside the school gates when he arrived. He didn’t have friends to wolf-whistle and tease them senseless about their public displays of affection. He didn’t have Elle, who upon spotting them across the road, hurried over to throw her arms around him as she apologised over and over again for her behaviour over the weekend. He hugged her back and assured her that she was forgiven, ten times over.

With so much going on, Charlie had forgotten they were inevitably going to run into Harry, Marcus and Ben at some point now school was back in session. None of them had seen them since Halloween night and Charlie wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react if he did see them. He worried further when he remembered that Nick was in the same year as them, and even had Marcus in his Psychology class. 

At break time, however, Nick, Charlie, Tao and Isaac learned from Imogen, who had her head in the gossip mill at all times, that Ben at least, was not coming back.

“I heard he and his whole family just up and left the day after Halloween,” Imogen chattered on as they chewed their snacks and tried to cover up the true extent of their shock. “He got into some trouble, burned his arm somehow, and his parents were so furious they made him move to Cornwall.”

“Good riddance, I say,” said Tao.

“I dunno,” said Imogen. “I’ve known him since primary. I thought he was okay, and you know, not bad to look at.”

“No,” said Nick, shaking his head. “You don’t know the shit he’s done, Imogen. It’s a good thing he’s gone. God… I’m so fucking glad.”

Charlie got to his feet. “I—I just remembered. I need to ask Mr Lange about some coursework. I… sorry.” He swept his bag onto his shoulder and hurried from the crowded room.

The corridor outside was empty and quieter. The common room doors hadn’t even swung shut behind him before Nick was there. Charlie sank against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. Nick settled beside him and waited. Charlie shuffled as close to him as he could, linked an arm around his, fiddling absently with the sleeve of his jumper.

“Sorry, I just… I didn’t realise how much… I dunno…” He tried to take a deep breath, to focus on Nick’s warmth beside him, on his kind attention. “There’s been so much going on. So much has happened, I didn’t think Ben even scratched the surface of what was stressing me out. But when Imogen said that just now, it was like a weight lifted—a big one—one I didn’t realise was even there.”

“He hurt you—in such a different way than the others,” said Nick. “Even before we found out he was a witch hunter, he was in my nightmares with the rest of them.”

Charlie’s stomach dropped. “You… you have nightmares?”

“Sometimes.” Nick shifted awkwardly. “Not often, I promise. And never when I’m sleeping next to you.”

“Oh, Nick, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to give you anything else to worry about. And… I feel a bit bad, ‘cause like, those things happened to you—Simon, Hazel, Millie, Ben—all of them went after you and hurt you, n-not me. I shouldn’t—it’s not fair for me to—”

“You’re allowed to have nightmares about traumatic things, too, Nick. And all of those things were traumatic for both of us. I don’t know how I would cope if I’d been in your shoes and—and someone hurt you.”

“People keep hurting you and I feel so powerless to stop it. We’re meant to be soulmates and I can’t even protect you.”

“Nick…” Charlie gathered his face between his hands and kissed his nose. “Look at me. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m alive and I’m breathing and I’m talking to you. Where are those people who hurt us now? Either dead or gone. You are so full of power, Nick. I can feel it all the time, even when we’re apart, even when we’re in danger and we’re scared out of our minds, I feel you.”

“I feel you, too,” Nick whispered. “And you save me, over and over, from my nightmares and my bad days and just… when I feel crap on a Monday morning, at every little inconvenience. You make me feel better about… about life.”

Nick blinked. Charlie stared… then snorted. “Wow,” he giggled. “That was a lot of sap, even for you.”

“Okay, leave me alone!” Nick covered his eyes with his hands. “I meant it, though.”

Charlie nudged his shoulder with his own. “I know you did.”

They both let out a breath, remembering they were still seated in the corridor outside the common room, where anyone could come upon them. Charlie got to his feet, then held out a hand to help Nick up, too. “And now Ben’s gone. To Cornwall,” he said, frowning. “I don’t understand it. I thought he said his dad was proud of his legacy.”

“Maybe he wasn’t,” said Nick. “Since when can we trust anything Ben says?”

“I bet he went against his parents’ wishes, got involved in witch hunter stuff, and that’s what made them move.”

“It doesn’t matter as long as he’s far away from us. From you.”

Charlie took his outstretched hand and squeezed it. He pulled Nick in closer, ushered him against the wall and kissed him.

The rest of break was spent like that, making out and determinedly getting a head start on forgetting Ben Hope ever existed. Charlie certainly couldn’t remember what they had been talking about before, not when he was kissing Nick goodbye, nor when walking to his next lesson with ruffled hair and a mark on his neck he was too giddy to hide. He wasn’t ashamed. He didn’t care if younger students giggled and pointed. Let them. Yes, he spent most of his free time with his tongue down Nick Nelson’s throat, so what?

On Wednesday afternoon, Nick and Charlie tumbled through Charlie’s front door, hands loosening ties, tugging at shirts. Charlie could have sworn he saw as well as felt the sparks which danced up his arms, down his back as Nick stroked and caressed, as he backed him up against the bannister of the stairs, his fingers tangled in his curls. They took a kiss-drunk, blind turn towards the living room sofa when the person lying on it opened her eyes.

Nick and Charlie parted with an unfortunate sucking noise. Kathleen blinked up at them from under her blanket. 

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” Nick let go of Charlie at once, cheeks bright red. “I didn’t realise anyone was home.”

With Nick detached from him, Charlie suddenly felt very aware of his own current state of dress. His school shirt was half rucked up, his tie fully undone, absolutely nothing hiding the marks on his throat. But his grandmother continued to watch them in quiet confusion, her brow furrowed as her eyes flicked from one flushed face to the other.

“Gran? Are you alright?” A half-empty cup of tea sat on the coffee table beside an abandoned paperback. “I thought you were meant to be at work until late tonight.”

Kathleen waved her hand. “Oh, I’m fine. It’s just a headache, but they insisted on sending me home early. I’ll be better after some rest. You boys feel free to continue what you were doing, though the sofa is taken, I’m afraid.”

She closed her eyes and snuggled back down under her blanket.

They tried to do as Kathleen told them, in the privacy of Charlie’s bedroom. Being kissed into the mattress by Nick was one of Charlie’s favourite things, but his mind kept wandering. 

“Sorry,” he gasped and rolled aside. “I keep thinking about my gran.”

Nick flopped beside him. “That’ll definitely do it.”

“I was having a nice time, I promise.”

“Oh, I could tell.” Nick smirked. 

Charlie batted at his arm half-heartedly, then fell still and quiet in contemplation.

“Are you worried about her being ill?” Nick asked.

“She completely forgot Hassan died, like, the day after I told her.” Charlie had yet to voice any of his concerns about his grandmother to anyone, not even himself. “And lately, sometimes when she looks at me, it’s like it takes her a while to remember who I am.”

“I’m sure she’s just stressed from work,” said Nick. “Nurses are overworked and underpaid. And she’s not exactly young.”

Still, as they found a mindless film to watch on Netflix, Charlie could only hope Nick was right. His grandmother was older, true, but he had somehow never viewed her as an old lady. He pictured himself having many, many more years with her as his guardian before he became hers.

It was just a headache, maybe a migraine. 

She was taking a sick day, that was all. 

Everyone had those.

The next day, Charlie genuinely considered taking a sick day himself. He had barely slept. He had barely been sleeping at all since Nick opened up about his nightmares. 

Charlie lay awake for hours with the stars, hating the thought of Nick mere streets away, suffering because Charlie wasn’t there to comfort him. Nick had assured him they didn’t happen often, and when they did, he had ways of dealing with them himself. But that didn’t mean Charlie didn’t worry.

He forced himself into school, where he found Nick had apparently slept perfectly fine—enough to tease him for getting so worked up over nothing. At least he found Charlie’s stupidity endearing.

During a free period that morning, Charlie managed to catch a sneaky nap in Nick’s car, and by break time felt much better. The common room was surprisingly empty for the time of day. Tao and Imogen had a meeting with their drama teacher, and Isaac had library duty, so Charlie settled into one of the sofas alone.

He pocketed his phone and pulled the mysterious parchment from his bag. Over the past few days, he had kept it on him at all times. It had become something of a habit to take it out, and look it over whenever he had spare moment. Now, the random combinations of lines and words were familiar to him, though they still didn’t make any sense.

“Did you ask your gran about that?” asked Nick when he joined him a few minutes later.

“Yeah. She didn’t know anything, either.”

Nick pulled out a packet of crips. “How is she doing today?” 

“She’s taking another day off work, much to her disdain, but she seems a bit better, I suppose.”

“That’s good.”

While he munched his crisps, Nick looked over Charlie’s shoulder, and joined the deciphering effort once again.

Charlie looked from the yellowed page to his boyfriend and back again. He had been turning over an idea in his head for the last few days, but he was worried about how Nick would react. Things had seemed better since the weekend, but…

“What is it?”

Charlie blinked.

Nick nudged his shoulder. “I can tell you’re worrying about something.” 

“I… alright, but you have to promise not to get mad at me.”

“I don’t think I could ever be mad at you.”

“Nick, just promise me.”

“Alright, I promise.”

Charlie took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking… maybe we should show this to David.” Nick’s face fell. “Sorry,” said Charlie quickly. “It’s just—it’s the only thing I can think of that we haven’t tried yet.”

Nick took his hand, and squeezed it. “No.” He tried to smile, but Charlie wasn’t convinced. “It’s a good suggestion, except…”

“Except we don’t trust David.”

“Not with something like this. This is too important to let him mess up.”

“But at this point, I’m getting desperate,” said Charlie. “Mr Blackwood basically gave us nothing. A gift which none of us, not even my gran, understands, and a warning of danger. Not even specifically who’s in danger or what from or anything and I just—”

“I thought that turned out to be a general you when we all got kidnapped?”

“But what if that’s not what he was talking about at all? What if there’s some other danger we don’t even know about yet? What if it wasn’t a general you?” He was suddenly on his feet, pacing. “He could have meant the entire town or just the coven, just us or just me or just you and I can’t—I have to figure it out, Nick. I have to. If this is the only thing that can save whoever the fuck he was talking about then I don’t know what else to do, okay?!”

He hadn’t meant to shout or raise his voice at all. Not at Nick. But if they could figure out this one thing, maybe they would both sleep better.

“Charlie, it’s okay. We’ll work it out, we will—”

“But not with David? The one person we haven’t asked yet who might actually know something?”

Nick opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked down at the half-empty crisp packet abandoned in his lap. “You know I’d do anything for you, but going to David for help—for anything… it’s not that simple for me.”

Charlie took a breath. “I know it isn’t. I understand that, I do. I just…” He scrubbed a hands over his face. “Nick, what if it’s me?”

“What?”

“Mr Blackwood called me, left the parchment at my house, and said the words ‘you’re in danger’ to me.”

Somewhere in the distance, the school bell rang.

Charlie had to look away from the tears in Nick’s wide eyes.

“He might have meant the witch hunters,” said Charlie. “But he might have meant something else. Either way, I need you to think about it. Please?”

He turned away, and strode from the common room without a glance back.

Sitting down in his class, Charlie felt utterly sick with himself. He had made his boyfriend cry. He had purposefully tugged on those massive heartstrings, and tried to guilt trip him into doing something he obviously didn’t want to do.

But Charlie had also been telling the truth. And the truth was, neither of them could know for certain exactly what any of the answers were. And they wouldn’t until…

They had to talk to David, even if Nick hated it. Charlie wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect either, but he needed to know what the parchment meant.

As soon as the bell rang for lunch, Charlie headed back to the common room, ready to plead his case for good.

Nick wasn’t there yet. Charlie hoped he was okay. 

God, Charlie was a terrible boyfriend… 

He found Tao and Isaac in their usual quiet corner and sat down. “I’m going to show David the parchment,” he said. “It’s the only thing we haven’t tried.”

Tao let out a heavy sigh. “Why does such a knobhead have to hold all the answers again?”

“It’s unavoidable at this point,” said Isaac. “As much as we don’t like him, he does know things.”

Charlie took out his sandwich and absently nibbled the corner. “Nick wasn’t thrilled when I brought it up earlier… with good reason. And I don’t want to go behind his back.”

“You don’t need his permission to do anything,” said Tao.

“No, but I want it,” said Charlie. “This is about him and his brother. Their relationship has always been shit. David basically bullied him his entire life and now…”

“Now he’s really sorry.”

Charlie looked up into Nick’s crestfallen face. He discarded his sandwich and leapt to his feet. He threw his arms around him, and Nick buried his head in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, too!” Charlie squeezed him tight. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I shouldn’t have yelled and I shouldn’t have run away.”

Nick pulled away to kiss him. “I forgive you,” he whispered. “Of course I do. And you were right. I think you should do whatever you need to do. You should show David the parchment.”

“Are you sure? Don’t pretend if you’re not.”

“I’m sure. Only… I have rugby after school today, so I was thinking maybe you could do it then. Tao and Isaac could go with you. Is… is that okay?”

“Of course it is.” Charlie stroked his cheek. “Nick, I love you. I would never make you do anything you weren’t comfortable with.”

“Alright,” said Tao. “You’ve had a domestic and now you’ve made up. The stars are aligned again. Please, refrain from excessive PDA while the rest of us eat, thank you.”

✨

Richard entered his office at school on Thursday afternoon to find Elle sitting in one of the guest chairs. “Well, this a rare visit,” he said. “Are you alright?”

“I can’t stop thinking about grandpa.”

With a sigh, he sat beside her and took her hand in his. “I’m so sorry, Ellie. It’s horrible that you had to see him like that.” He pulled her into a hug. “He would want us to be strong. And I need your strength, too, what with the fireworks display tomorrow night.”

She pulled away from him and wiped at her cheeks. “You’re still going to that?”

“I’m organising it. I have to go.”

“But there’s been a death in the family. No one would care if you missed it.”

“Elle… I have responsibilities.”

“You don’t care. You’ve never cared about grandpa, have you?”

“That’s not fair. Our relationship has never been easy, but he played his part in that, too.”

Immediately, he knew he’d put his foot in it. Elle’s glare was so much like her mother’s.

“Really?” She got to her feet. “It looked to me like you pushed him away. That’s why he stayed at the lake house all the time, because you wouldn’t let him into our life here in Truham. Maybe this is your fault.” She turned on her heel and strode to the door.

“Elle! Don’t talk to me like that. Our history was complicated. You don’t know the whole story.”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it? Not to him, anyway.” And she left.

✨

By the end of lunch, David had agreed via the group chat to meet Charlie, Tao and Isaac outside the Truham gates after school. They had spent a long time deciding where they should bring him, but in the end, there had been only one, inevitable option.

“The cottage?”

Nick had flinched and grimaced, like the thought process was physically painful. “He’s a part of the coven now, so I suppose it’s only right.”

Still, as the four of them made their way through the woods towards the cottage, it wasn’t David’s presence that felt the strangest. Charlie respected Nick’s wishes and his boundaries, but he did wish Nick could have come. In much the same way that Charlie always wanted Nick there. But Tao and Isaac had dutifully assured Nick they would keep an eye on things, and they all knew Tao would pounce at the first sign of David being a dick.

Not that Charlie wasn’t perfectly capable of telling David to fuck off himself.

He kept his distance as David peered around the cottage. David strolled around, looking at the books, the notice board, the doodles and notes pinned to it. Suddenly, it all felt very private, like by inviting David, they had ruined something sacred.

David made to look into the kitchen-greenhouse and Charlie couldn’t stand it anymore. “Not in there!” He reached past David for the door and shut it quickly. “Let’s just sit down and get this over with, okay?”

David shrugged and flopped down onto a sofa, feet up on the coffee table. “So,” he said. “What’s this parchment you wanted to show me?”

Eying each other apprehensively, Charlie, Tao and Isaac sat on the sofa opposite. None of them liked this any more than Nick.

And suddenly, Charlie doubted their plan all over again as he took the parchment from his bag. “This is a massive risk,” he said. “Giving you this, showing you this place—we’re really trusting you, David.”

“Only because you’re out of other options.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “You’re not making this any easier.”

He met David’s eye then and saw some of the apathy flicker, saw something like yearning—to be a part of something, and something like appreciation—for being trusted. 

It was only for a second. Maybe Charlie had imagined it. But maybe he hadn’t.

David held out a hand. And Charlie handed over the parchment.

The three of them sat there and watched David as he scanned the paper, eyebrows furrowed. His brown eyes were unreadable. If David smiled more, maybe he had half a chance of being as attractive as his brother. Physically, anyway. Sometimes Charlie forgot the two were related.

“So…” said Tao, when the silence dragged on too long. “Do you know what it means?”

David turned the parchment over to glance at the back. “Nope.”

“Ugh!” Tao sank back against the sofa cushions. “What’s the point then!?”

“But,” said David. “Back in the day, witches used to hide secret messages inside parchment like this.”

Isaac frowned. “Inside it?”

“Yeah.” David held the parchment up to the light streaming from the window and squinted at the lines and words, made clearer when backlit. “We just need some heat.” He brought it down onto the coffee table between them and placed his hand flat upon the paper. “Want to do the honours?”

Charlie realised he was speaking to him. “Oh, um… okay.” He placed his own hand beside David’s and reached out for his magic. It came to him in a sharp burst, a swooping sensation, but too sudden to be completely comfortable. Familiar but wrong.

“You alright?” David asked, smirking.

“I’m fine,” Charlie snapped. “I should have expected your magic to feel like crap.”

“I could say the same about yours, twinkle-toes. Now focus. Just a little heat, okay? We don’t want it to burst into flames.”

Charlie took a deep breath and tried to focus on the paper beneath his palm, on the earth and the air and all the rest. He felt the heat and expected to see some sort of glow, but there was none. 

At David’s nod, he removed his hand.

Before the others could look and see if anything had changed, David snatched up the parchment and began to peel it apart. Charlie, Tao and Isaac stared, astonished, as the parchment came away in two halves, slowly but surely, until it was twice the size as it had been previously. As if it had been folded in half and stuck like that for centuries.

David lay the entire thing out across the table, the F.W. seal now at the very top.

“Whoa…” Tao gasped.

All four of them leaned forward to gaze at the words and lines—all of which now made immediate, clear sense.

“It’s a family tree,” said Isaac.

Beautifully drawn as an actual tree, with branches and leaves weaving across the page, entwining names and dates spanning centuries. Printed at the very bottom of the tree was the name Jane Driscoll.

“That’s my mum,” said Charlie. “This is my mum’s family tree.”

“Holy shit,” said Tao.

“What happened to her?” asked David.

“She died in the barn fire same as your dad,” said Charlie, scanning unfamiliar name after unfamiliar name. “But that’s pretty much all I know about her.”

“Your dad never talked about her?”

Tao tensed, but Charlie didn’t care about the continued questioning right now. He couldn’t take his eyes off the tree before him. “No,” he said. “It was too painful for him. After a while, I just stopped asking. But now…” He traced his fingertips over the branches and leaves. “Here she is, my whole history. Who were they?” 

Up and up and up, he swept through the centuries to the very top of the page where, just beneath the seal, was printed the first person in the entire line, the patriarch of his mother’s family. “Francis Waterhouse,” he read. “F.W… Right. This is his family tree.”

“This is so cool,” said Isaac. “It goes back so far.”

“1618,” said Tao. “Yeah. It is cool, but… why did Mr Blackwood give you this? I mean, how is it meant to protect you? And from what?”

Charlie shrugged and looked up at David.

He had moved away to gaze absently towards the kitchen-greenhouse door. He seemed to realise he was being stared at and gave a start. He cleared his throat. “I don’t know.”

“But didn’t you say before that looking into my family tree might help me figure stuff out? Like about my—my solo magic?”

“Y-yeah,” said David, getting to his feet. “It might. I just remembered, I’ve got to go. Thanks for showing me your hang-out spot, it’s cool.” He gave an awkward double thumbs up and then scurried out of the cottage.

Charlie stared after him.

“Okay,” said Tao. “Now he’s definitely acting strange. What do you think he forgot to do? Shave?”

Isaac snickered.

Charlie looked back down at his mother’s family and sighed. Once again, he wished Nick was there, just for something to hold onto. To tell him everything would be okay. That this wasn’t as overwhelming and massive as it felt.

“You okay?” Isaac nudged Charlie’s shoulder.

He nodded mutely, and gave a half shrug.

“Have you still not been able to get a hold of Mr Blackwood?”

“No, his phone keeps going to voicemail.”

“Well, maybe we should go and visit him at his shop,” said Isaac.

“Come on.” Tao got to his feet. “By the time we get back, Nick’ll be done with rugby and you can stop moping.”

Charlie let his friends pull him to his feet, made sure the family tree was tucked safely in his school bag, then followed them back through the woods.

But when the three of them made it to Blackwood’s shop, they found the windows dark and a closed sign on the door. They tried the doorbell and the handle. Nothing.

“Where did he go?”

✨

David found Harry in the secret basement beneath the cathedral. By the time he made it to the bottom of the metal steps, he was sweating more than he’d care to admit and out of breath.

Harry raised an eyebrow at him from his spot at the desk. Marcus looked up from his phone. The two of them had clearly been utilising the dark and dingy space as a hang-out of their own, snacks and drinks on the go. David had to admit, the cottage was way nicer. It may have been a crumbling ruin of a house, but at least it wasn’t underground.

“Charlie’s dark magic comes from Waterhouse.”

A reaction flickered across Harry’s face for only a second. “That’s not possible,” he said. “The Waterhouse line was eradicated.”

“Hidden, yes,” said David. “But not eradicated. The name changed to Driscoll. Charlie’s mum was Jane Driscoll. She died in the barn fire and would’ve been the last in the Waterhouse line until—”

Harry stared. “Until Charlie.” Marcus’ phone booped and beeped. “Waterhouse is the origin of dark magic.”

“Which means Charlie has stronger, darker power than we ever thought. Reversing that cruet on Ben was just the beginning of what he’s capable of.”

Harry shot to his feet and began to pace. “Killing him is no longer an option. His fate is for the council to decide. We’ll leave in the morning and present the new information.” He exchanged a look with Marcus who finally looked up from his phone and nodded.

“I could stay,” said David quickly. “K-keep an eye on him.”

He could barely look at the two younger lads, though he knew they were smirking themselves silly. 

“You’ve grown fond of him,” said Harry with a laugh.

“No,” said David sharply. “I’m not fond of anyone.”

Harry let out a sigh and shook his head. He clapped David on the shoulder. “It’s not your fault, mate. It’s only natural you should feel a connection to them—not to mention your own brother. But you can’t let emotion cloud the facts. Witchcraft killed your dad. It’s killed thousands of innocent people, and it’ll kill more if we let it. Allowing the truth to guide you, that’s what makes you different from them. When we first reached out to you, you were isolated, filled with pain and self-hatred, and now, you’re on the verge of redemption. You need to leave here with us tomorrow before you lose sight of that.”

“You’re right,” said David. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”

✨

Running around and falling over on a chilly November afternoon had been just what Nick had needed. He was proud of himself for setting his own boundaries and sticking to them, but all the same… leaving Charlie to deal with David by himself didn’t seem right. He had to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t alone, Tao and Isaac had gone along too—and realistically, what could David even do? Shout slurs and be rude? He wouldn’t get physically violent. But the rest was worse, it always had been. But Charlie could stick up for himself, he knew that. He’d just rather he didn’t have to.

As he returned home and showered, Charlie’s words from earlier came back to him. What if it’s me? And suddenly, Nick wished he’d just bit the bullet and gone to talk to David himself. In the grand scheme of things, what would he rather do? Let his boyfriend continue to be in danger or ask his brother for help?

It might not even be Charlie, he told himself. But it could be. And that was enough. It should always be enough—for Nick to be brave.

He watched the rest of the mud and grass be swept away down the drain.

That was the problem. Nick wasn’t brave. Not when it came to David. He was always too weak, too soft, too nice. He had taught himself not to be too brave, at least. He didn’t care about David—that was the key. If he didn’t care, then he wouldn’t feel so much of the other stuff—just anger and disdain like when any bully was in front of him. If that was all David was then Nick would stand between him and Charlie any day of the week.

Dried and dressed, Nick pottered downstairs to feed Nellie and was just checking the time when the doorbell rang. 

“Bork, bork!” said Nellie. She cocked her head, her big brown eyes hopeful.

“I hope it’s him, too.”

The two of them bounded into the hall and Nick flung the door open. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Charlie’s cheeks were pink from the cold, a soft scarf wrapped around his neck.

Nick pulled him over the threshold into a hug.

“Did you miss me or something?”

“Always,” said Nick, breathing him in. “Nellie missed you, too.”

Charlie drew away and turned his attention on the dog currently panting excitedly at their feet. “Hi, Nellie. What a good girl! You’re so cute, yes, you are!”

Nellie kissed his cheek and leapt about with joy that one of her favourite humans was there.

“Alright, alright,” said Nick, grinning. “I know who you’re really here for.”

“It’s you!” Charlie stage-whispered to Nellie.

“Boof!”

“I’ll just put the kettle on for me, then, shall I?” Nick made a big, dramatic show of wandering into the kitchen. 

Charlie threw his coat and scarf onto a hook, kicked off his shoes, then hurtled after him. “Nooo! I love you, too, come back!” He wrapped himself around Nick’s middle and held on for as long as it took for Nick to make them both tea. 

They leaned side by side against the counter, sipping from steaming mugs.

“How was rugby?”

“Good,” said Nick. “Freezing, but good.”

“Score many tries?”

Nick raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Mmhm. You do listen when I speak.”

“Oh, I know all the rugby lingo.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Drop goals and conversions and you’re a fly-half and there’s something called a hooker.”

“You don’t know what any of those words mean, do you?”

“Rugby stuff, obviously.”

Nick had to set his mug down. “Come here.” He plucked the cup from Charlie’s hands and set it beside his own. 

Charlie pouted but did as he was told. “I should have known the tea was just a pretence to get into my pants.” He wrapped his arms around Nick’s shoulders and kissed him like he’d already forgotten all about the tea he’d just abandoned.

“Not a pretence,” said Nick between kisses. “You’re just too cute. I had to kiss you.”

Nick collected Charlie up between his arms as they continued to kiss lazily, sending gentle tingles through every point of contact. Secluded between the counter and Charlie, Nick had never felt braver. He had never felt more ready to face anything, including his brother, if he was doing it for this boy—the one who was kissing such an all-consuming line along his jaw, down to his throat, leaving a searing trail of fire in his wake.

“Want to talk about it?”

Nick blinked as his brain rebooted. Charlie detached himself from his throat and watched him with a knowing look—as if he could read the turmoil inside Nick’s head.

“It being David?”

Charlie nodded.

“Ugh!” Nick let his head fall forward onto Charlie’s shoulder. “How is my brother managing to cockblock us when he’s not even here?”

Charlie stroked a hand through his hair. “Sorry. We don’t have to—”

“No,” said Nick. “I’m sorry.” He lifted his head to look at him, but didn’t let him go. “I should have gone with you today. I could have skipped rugby.”

“No, rugby is important to you, too. You made the right decision.”

Nick grimaced. “Did he at least help?”

“Yeah,” said Charlie. “He did actually. Is your mum home?”

“She’s at the cafe.”

They gathered up their half-drank tea, Charlie grabbed his school bag from the hall and joined Nick at the dining room table. He reached into the bag and pulled out the parchment. Only, Nick thought that’s what it was—it was much bigger now, and a lot less confusing to look at.

Nick scooched his chair as close to Charlie’s as possible and listened intently as he explained all about what David had said; about witches hiding secret messages inside paper, how they had used heat to pry apart the folded pages.

“This is my mum’s family tree.”

Astonished, Nick scanned the expanse of hand-drawn leaves and branches, the looping cursive of the earlier names, to the simple printed name of Jane Driscoll at the very bottom. “You’re not on here.”

“No. I’m not.”

They met each other’s eye for a tentative moment. Neither of them knew what that meant—or even if it meant anything. Nick glanced back down at the tree, then took out his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Googling Francis Waterhouse.”

Charlie smiled and shook his head. “Of course you are.”

Nick pressed enter and scanned the top-most results. “There’s someone called Francis A. Waterhouse who wrote a book in the 1930s…”

“This says 1600s,” said Charlie, studying the name on the tree thoughtfully. “That was, like, peak witch-hunting time in this country. In fact… I think Francis was alive at about the same time Matthew Hopkins was still Witchfinder General or whatever he was called.”

“That was what he was called and you know it,” said Nick, having quickly Googled him. “How do you remember all that and not rugby terms?”

Charlie smirked. “History has always been interesting to me. Rugby not until, oh, about two months ago.” He held out a hand. “Can I see that a sec?”

Nick handed over his phone and leaned in while Charlie looked at the page on Matthew Hopkins he had pulled up. “Hmm… Francis lived a while longer than Hopkins. He must have been good at hiding his magic.”

There was a certain air about Charlie now, since he’d arrived at the house, something had changed and for the better. He seemed lighter, his smiles fuller, his blue eyes glittery with excitement and wonder. They turned on him now in question. “What?”

Had Nick been staring? Probably. “Nothing.” He nuzzled his nose into Charlie’s neck and kissed his cheek. “Just admiring my nerdy little boyfriend with his facts and his history knowledge.”

A blush rose in Charlie’s cheeks and his nose crinkled like it did when he got all bashful. “I’m just… happy, I guess.” He dropped his gaze to the names on the tree. “I’ve never known anything about my family, on either side. I’ve only ever had my dad and my gran, and now… look at them all.”

Nick kept his head on his shoulder as he looked upon Francis Waterhouse, his son Francis, his grandson Francis, and all the generations after them when they had become adventurous and started using different names. There was even a Charles Waterhouse.

“My middle name is Francis.”

Nick lifted his head. “It is?”

Charlie nodded.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” said Charlie. “Maybe my mum chose it. I have no idea.”

Some of the joy vanished then and Charlie looked forlorn again.

“Mine is Luke,” said Nick.

Charlie smiled. “That’s way better. I’ve always hated Francis, but now… I suppose it connects me to them in a way Spring doesn’t.”

Nick looked back at the tree. “Maybe we should add you to this.”

“Hmm… but it’s so beautifully drawn,” said Charlie. “I wouldn’t want to mess it up. And there’s not really much space.”

“There is,” said Nick. “Look.”

“Not—” Charlie blushed. “Not for both of us.”

Nick’s eyes widened.

Charlie cleared his throat, then looked up at him from beneath his eyelashes. “I—I wouldn’t want to be on here without… you beside me.”

“Oh, Char…” And in that moment, Nick had no doubt that Charlie was telling the truth. He could see it in his eyes, in the redness of his cheeks, in the delicate smile on his lips, the beauty he felt in his magic, in his soul. “I want that, too.”

“Really?”

Tears shone in Charlie’s eyes and Nick felt them prickle in his own. “Yes,” he said. “I—I know we said we would take things slow—and we really, really haven’t been—but, I love loving you, so much. I don’t know why I ever cared what the universe thought.”

“I don’t know either,” Charlie sniffled. “I love loving you, too.” He buried his tear-streaked face into Nick’s shoulder. “And now we’re getting all blubbery and sappy. We are such a mess.”

Nick snuggled him back and let a few tears slip out, too. “It’s just so intense, how I feel about you. Sometimes it feels like I could just eat you up.”

Charlie pulled away, eyebrows raised. “You could… eat me?”

Nick giggled. “Not like that.” He let his forehead fall to rest against his. “But like that, too, yes.”

Before they could descend into kissing and forget the world again, Charlie dried his eyes and packed the family tree back into his bag. Nick gathered the empty mugs and set them in the dishwasher.

“Oh, I forgot!” said Charlie. Nick turned to see what he was talking about, just as Charlie darted out of the room with his school bag. He returned a second later, something held behind his back. “Here!”

He presented the item in his hands, an embarrassed sort of grin on his face.

Nick gazed at it, blinking for a moment, then took it cautiously. “What’s this?”

“I bought it on Halloween, from Blackwood’s, actually. I thought I’d give it to you as a peace offering that night, but I never found the right moment. It reminded me of—”

“Of Nellie!” He spun around to Nellie who had been snoozing in her basket. He went to her, to show her the border collie figurine.“It’s you! In a cute little witch hat!”

Nellie sniffed it sleepily, unimpressed. Undeterred, Nick returned to Charlie and hugged him, spun him around in a circle until he laughed.

“I was going to say it reminded me of you,” Charlie gasped, clinging on tight. “And Nellie, too, I suppose.”

“Thank you.” He kissed him. “I love it.”

Charlie kissed him back. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Nick hastily put the dog aside. He didn’t want it to get broken. But he did want to kiss his boyfriend senseless, preferably with no interruption this time.

The two of them backed each other across the kitchen, into the living room, fingers touching and caressing, tugging at clothing and hair before they stumbled to land on the sofa. Nick pushed himself into a more comfortable position, his head on the armrest and Charlie settled on top of him, his curls haloed by the moonlight coming from the window.

“Are you going to the bonfire tomorrow night?”

Charlie scrutinised the mark he’d left on Nick’s throat. “I thought we were all going as a coven.”

“Yeah, we are, but… I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? Like as a date?”

Charlie looked up. “Yes!”

“You will?”

“Nick!” He shoved at his shoulders. “You can’t be surprised I said yes. I literally just had my tongue in your mouth.”

“Right.” Nick laughed. “I dunno… can I—can I pick you up at seven?”

“God,” Charlie sighed. “It is so hot and useful to have a boyfriend with a car. Yes,” he said. “I would love that.”

Charlie spread his fingers on the warmth of Nick’s chest. Nick had been watching his eyes, but he dropped his gaze to follow his hand as he slowly pushed it up his chest to the slope of his neck, then up to his jaw. Nick met his eyes again right as Charlie took him by the back of his neck and leaned down to kiss him.

Charlie dragged his tongue softly over Nick’s lips, touched it to Nick’s tongue, then slowly melted Nick’s mouth against his, burying his fingers deep in Nick’s hair.

Nick lifted his hands to spread them on the small of Charlie’s back, pulling him closer until he was pressed up against the heat of his body. Nick took two fistfulls of Charlie’s jumper and held on tight as he kissed him back, the side of his nose brushing intimately against his.

Charlie teased his mouth all the way open, kissing him like he could never kiss him deep enough, then so lightly that their lips barely touched, teasing the tip of Nick’s tongue with the tip of his own as he panted softly into his mouth.

Charlie parted his lips for him expectantly, waiting and willing.

Nick eagerly took the opportunity, treating him to a kiss to answer his kiss. Slow, intense, intoxicating. He kept going until they were both senseless, holding onto each other just to keep from toppling off the sofa. Nick’s body was on fire, smouldering, his chest flooded with deep Charlie-scented breaths.

Charlie gathered himself back together and continued slowly, thoroughly, sucking on Nick’s lips, exploring his mouth with his tongue so deliberately that Nick whimpered softly, panting harder. Instinctively, Nick rubbed his body into Charlie’s just a little bit, making friction between their clothes, straining and pressing against him as he kissed him. Wild ribbons of sparkling electricity rushed Nick’s veins, making him dizzy.

He slipped his fingers beneath Charlie’s jumper, to find the dimples at the base of his spine, his other arm wound around him just beneath his shoulder blades.

Neither of them heard the front door open or close.

But they did hear David enter and exclaim, “God, oh jesus, fuck! Get a fucking room!”

Charlie scrambled aside and fell onto the armchair, panting, his cheeks burning out of control. Nick grabbed a cushion and mirrored Charlie in covering his lap. His eyes were still heat-glazed and glassy, his pupils overtaking most of the blue. Still inwardly reeling, Nick struggled to get his breath back.

Meanwhile, David scampered across the room and plucked a hoodie from the back of the chair. He shoved it into a large duffle bag.

“Are you going somewhere?” Nick demanded hopefully.

“Just clearing some stuff out, don’t mind me.” David clocked their flushed faces and messed up hair, their grumpy glares. He let out an exasperated sigh. “Honestly, you have a bedroom, Nick. Use it.”

Nick scoffed. “Fuck off.” He tightened his grip on his cushion, hating how he always regressed to aggression in front of his brother. “Please?”

“So… um,” Charlie spoke tentatively to David. “We went to Blackwood’s and it was closed, like locked up. Looked like it had been that way for a while.”

Nick sank further into the sofa, letting his head fall sideways onto the armrest.

“Weird,” said David. “Maybe he went on holiday?”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

David sighed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t much help to you, but I appreciate you coming to me and asking.”

A scoffy kind of noise escaped Nick’s throat before he could stop himself. 

Charlie grimaced, glanced at Nick, then back at David, brow furrowed. “We’re all going to the fireworks tomorrow night as a coven.”

“That’s nice,” said David sarcastically. “Have fun.”

“I was thinking, if you weren’t doing anything, maybe you’d like to come.”

Nick stared. David stared.

Charlie shifted awkwardly in his chair, gaze downcast. “It’s only for an hour or two, and there’ll be food and—”

“I’m not your friend,” David snapped.

Charlie startled and stared up at him. Nick wanted to throttle his brother.

David closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath. “I don’t want to be your friend.” His brown eyes were empty, colder when he opened them again. “I’m not like you or—or the others.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Charlie. “We’re all witches. We’re bound.”

“I’m not a disgusting, pathetic little fag like you and your friends!” David turned on his heel and stormed from the room, up the stairs. They heard his bedroom door slam.

Nick squeezed his eyes shut tight, clutching the cushion to his chest. “I knew it wasn’t real.” Shamefully, he felt moisture on his cheeks. “Why do I always…? I always fall for it.”

“Oh, Nick…” Charlie had moved from the chair to his side, crouched beside him on the sofa. He planted a kiss on his cheek, and stroked his hair.

Nick tipped forward, to rest against Charlie instead of the armrest. He let him hold him as he let out the rest of his tears into his shoulder. His hand in his hair would always feel good, no matter the context.

“You know what?” Charlie whispered, a few minutes later. He had settled back at his side on the sofa, and Nick was in danger of falling asleep against his shoulder. “I don’t think that was real.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I think David panicked. I showed him some kindness, without sarcasm or anything like that and—and I scared him. He reverted back to his usual homophobia because that’s his defence mechanism.”

“He still shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“No, he shouldn’t have, but… I don’t think he meant it, not really.”

“You’re saying he’s allergic to kindness?” Nick usually trusted Charlie’s judgement—on everything. But this? “He’s allergic to me. And to you by association.”

Charlie nudged his shoulder and tried for a soft smile. “Well, you are the embodiment of kindness. It’s his problem if he has an allergy, but it’s also kind of sad. I’ve gone through periods where it was hard to let kindness touch me, but to live like that all the time… it would be very lonely.”

Nick peered into his blue, blue eyes, so sincere and a little sad. “Charlie… you’re so…”

“What?”

Nick shook his head. “You mustn’t be in a period like that lately,” he said. “Because if I’m the embodiment of kindness then you don’t seem to mind me touching you.”

Charlie laughed and the dreary spell David’s arrival had cast upon them broke. By the time the front door opened again and Sarah joined them, they had dinner started and were feeling pretty domestic. Nick was definitely pleased his mum had walked in on them cooking together as opposed to David’s accidental show, though she would have been nicer about it.

As they settled down in front of a Bake Off repeat to eat, Nick could tell his mum was treading carefully where Nick and Charlie’s relationship was concerned. She was pleased they had worked through the bomb they had dropped on them, but at the same time, Nick couldn’t help but resent the fact it had been dropped in the first place. At a wake. Just before their first half-term together.

Luckily, David did not re-emerge from his room to join them and they had a lovely, quiet evening in front of the telly. After dessert, Sarah left them early, shattered after a long day at the cafe—though not-so secretly knowing they’d appreciate the time alone together.

Nick and Charlie polished off their bowls of jam roly-poly and custard, then snuggled down under a blanket for several rounds of Mario Kart. Nick never thought he was bad at Mario Kart until he played with Charlie, but secretly enjoyed Charlie winning over and over.

They then switched to Animal Crossing and Charlie watched peacefully, his head in Nick’s lap, his cheek against the fabric of his joggers. When the town was weeded and he’d rearranged his living room for the tenth time, Nick sensed a change in Charlie’s breathing and realised he was asleep.

His mouth was open, a patch of drool seeping into his joggers, but Nick couldn’t bring himself to wake him up. He turned off the game as quietly as he could, then looked at the time. It was almost eleven.

That was when he noticed a new message from Tao. Not in the group chat, but a private Whatsapp message thread.

TAO (22:57): We need to talk about David.

NICK (22:59): I’d rather not.

TAO (23:00): Don’t you think it’s weird that he’s suddenly being nice to us?

NICK (23:00): Not weird, but like I’ve said, I’ve learned not to trust anything nice David says or does.

TAO (23:02): I think you’re right. He was super sus at the cottage earlier, all enthusiastic and then he got very weird when we were looking at the family tree. I’m guessing Charlie told you about that?

NICK (23:03): Yeah, he did. But weird how?

TAO (23:03): Worried? Quieter?

TAO (23:04): Just different, okay? And then he basically ran away when Charlie brought up his solo magic.

TAO (23:05): All I’m saying is I think we need to keep an eye on him. Even if Charlie thinks his heart has grown three sizes.

But Nick didn’t think Charlie did think that exactly.

He looked down at his peacefully sleeping face and sighed. Charlie was so good. Nick wanted to believe that David could grow and change, but he also knew David’s track record. Better and more intimately than the others. But maybe that was it. David could never change when it came to Nick, but the others? There was no history there, so maybe he could come to accept them in his own, emotionally stunted, allergic-to-kindness way.

And other than him being a huge dickhead, Nick wasn’t sure what David acting suspiciously meant.

He couldn’t be a witch hunter.

David just couldn’t stand being bound to a coven like theirs. He hadn’t signed up to be bound to a coven at all. And David was trying to make the most of it… wasn’t he?

A tiny, adorable grumbly noise brought Nick out of his thoughts and back onto the sofa where his boyfriend’s arms contracted around his middle as he stirred. He let out a contented sigh. “I fell asleep.”

“It’s late,” said Nick softly. “Want to stay over?”

“I should ask my gran.”

Permission was granted, showers were taken, teeth were brushed and pyjamas were gathered. Nick closed his bedroom door with a little more force than necessary and took in one of his favourite sights. Of Charlie in his room, his hair fluffy and extra soft from the shower. And then he was striding across the room and taking Nick by the hips.

Nick stared up with wide eyes as Charlie walked him backwards until he was pressed against the door. A wave of heat came over him. Nick could see the source of it, the flames burning in those intense blue eyes. Charlie pressed his body into his as he bent to kiss him, pinning Nick between himself and the wall.

Nick’s heart stumbled, then it began to soar.

One kiss, and his whole body was on fire, and he was melting.

One kiss, and a throb started in his veins, electricity rushed through his body, an aching want spread out from the very core of him.

Charlie pulled back. Nick looked at him through a daze. Blinking, slowly, completely unravelled. Charlie took him by the chin, tipped his face down to his, dragged his thumb over his parted lips. “Do you know,” Charlie whispered. “That sometimes it’s painful, how much I want you?”

He brought their mouths together, and the fire burning in him spilled into Nick. Just like that, they were both swept up in the same frantic, wild, all-consuming fever.

Even the seconds-long walk to the bed was too much for them. They found themselves in complete possession of each other, right where they were. It was like a dream, but no dream of Nick’s was ever this vivid. Charlie’s voice enveloped him, growing rougher and breathless the deeper they sank into complete abandon.

His features in the moonlight. The taste of him. His heat seeping into Nick. With each movement he made, a powerful wave of pleasure left behind mind-numbing ecstasy in every cell of Nick’s body. He felt drunk on it, dizzy, in a spellbinding trance.

And Charlie was right there with him.

Body to body, they both succumbed to it completely.

By the time they stopped, they were both taking deep, gasping breaths, delirious, struggling to hold themselves up.

Nick couldn’t have even said where he was at that moment. He and Charlie had leapt off the earth, though their feet were still on the ground. And suddenly he remembered that he’d been worried—that their first time together was so good, there would be no recapturing what it had felt like.

The thought struck him so absurd that he let out a soft laugh.

“What?” Charlie stammered against the back of Nick’s neck.

Nick tried to answer, but his mind was still drifting in the resonating echoes of what had just happened. He couldn’t form words. Instead, he gathered up the few items of clothing they had managed to tear off before they could wait no longer. 

Then he took Charlie’s hand and led him to the bed. Nick glanced at him, and his heart stumbled. 

Charlie with no shirt, his jeans still undone. His hair all messed up by Nick’s hands, his skin bearing a light sheen of sweat. His blue eyes, dazzlingly beautiful. Still dreamy and heat-glazed, like his own. Still fixed on Nick with a searing intensity.

They collapsed together onto the bed, then lay unmoving for a long moment.

Nick looked at Charlie, watched the interplay of moonlight and shadow on his face. Nick’s body felt weak and boneless, but at the same time, he felt strangely new again. There was a blissful, cathartic, unburdened lightness in his chest. It was a feeling only Charlie could give him. Something about having his every desire met, and then some.

Charlie ran a hand through his hair, staring at the ceiling. “S’one of those times where I can’t believe it’s real.”

“I—I get it,” Nick stammered. “I can’t believe you exist.”

Charlie laughed and sat up. He smiled at him, then blinked when Nick spread a hand on his chest. One last residual shiver of pleasure rolled through Charlie’s body. Nick stripped all of Charlie’s remaining clothes away, then let him do the same with his.

Naked, Nick rolled onto his stomach, stretched out his legs, flexed his feet. Slowly, Charlie placed his body on top of his, his cheek nestled in the valley between his shoulder blades. The front of Charlie’s thighs against the back of Nick’s. 

Utterly wrapped in his warmth, Nick let out a low, rumbling laugh. “You fit so perfectly like this, Char.”

Charlie pressed a kiss onto his back, then let out a contented sigh. He snuggled up against him and Nick let out a deep breath, tired and happy. They swam together in the depths of the immense ocean of love between them and Nick hoped Charlie knew that he could always rest there, in his love, just like Nick rested in his.

Chapter Text

chapter eighteen: a potential inferno

He looked tired. But as he looked upon his own reflection, there was something else there now, something that hadn’t been there before. Charlie wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, whether he liked it or not, but once upon a time he’d hated everything he saw. Once, he had known he was disgusting like a fact.

Now the bullies in his head had quietened. Now he often forgot they were even there. Now he was powerful and lovable. Now he was desirable. And he was going on a date. 

He folded his shirt collar neatly over his autumnal jumper and shrugged his coat over the top. He wanted to be warm but cute, seasonal but not overly so. He had used his for-special-occasions-only curl cream and made sure he smelled extra nice. He double-checked the grimoire, crystal and family tree were safely hidden in the secret compartment, then headed downstairs.

In the living room, he found his grandmother, ready and waiting to go out herself. She smiled. “You look nice.”

“Thanks. Nick said he’d pick me up at seven. He should be here soon.”

Kathleen raised her eyebrows. “Is this evening a date, then?”

Charlie nodded, shy but giddy. He perched on the edge of a chair and waited, an eye on the front window. He didn’t know why he was so excited—he had seen Nick three hours ago at school. There was just something about the formality of their date plans that sent shivers of disbelief through him. He had just never expected this sort of thing would happen to him. And yet there he was, waiting with bated breath for a cute boy to pick him up and take him out. A cute boy he also called his boyfriend.

Charlie tapped his foot impatiently. “Gran?” he said. “So… I found out what that parchment was. It’s my mum’s family tree. Do you know anything about the Driscoll family line?”

Kathleen held his gaze for a long moment, then her eyes turned blank and her face dropped.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I… I don’t know. I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked whether you knew anything about my mum’s family.”

Kathleen shook her head. “No. I only met her parents once. They’ve both passed away now. You dad never talked about them.”

“Oh.” Charlie looked down at his hands in his lap. “Okay.” Every time he thought his grandmother was getting back to herself, she would regress again. He didn’t know what to do. She was the medical professional. And really, they didn’t know each other that well—he didn’t want to push her boundaries.

The doorbell rang, and Charlie got to his feet, suddenly feeling kind of guilty. “Are you going to be alright going to the bonfire alone?”

Kathleen swatted at his knee. “Don’t worry about me. Now, don’t keep your Nick waiting—and have a lovely evening.”

Charlie smiled, his excitement dropping back into his chest. He tried not to run into the hall, but couldn’t go slowly. He opened the door and grinned. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Nick looked utterly adorable, as usual, but he’d definitely made an extra effort too, and— “Oh my god,” Charlie gasped. “You bought me flowers?!”

“I did,” said Nick. Blushing, he held out a bouquet of daisies. “Is that okay?”

All Charlie could do was nod. He couldn’t find the words—any words at all—to express how overwhelmingly grateful and happy he was at that moment.

Luckily, Kathleen appeared behind him. “Aren’t those lovely?” she said. “I can find a vase for them if you like, so they’re nice for when you get back.”

“Thanks, gran.” Charlie let her take the daisies, then fell forward into Nick to kiss him, pouring into it all the words he hadn’t been able to say. “Thank you,” he murmured as they parted.

“You got me that dog ornament. I wanted to get you something, too.”

“I love them, and I love you. Ready to go?”

Nick held out a hand and Charlie took it. 

“Are you going to the fireworks, too, Mrs Spring?” asked Nick as they stepped outside and Kathleen shut the door behind them.

“I am. But don’t worry, I won’t be crashing your date. I’m meeting some of the ladies from the hospital there. Have a nice evening, the both of you, don’t get into too much trouble. Oh, and if you decide you’re not coming home tonight, just let me know, Charlie.” With a wink, she set off towards her car.

Cheeks aflame, Charlie giggled at the equal embarrassment on Nick’s face. “Come on,” he said. “We don’t want to be late.”

✨

Richard opened his front door to find Pauline standing there, wrapped in her usual elegant black coat. This evening she had added a deep red scarf, interwoven with shimmering gold. 

“You’re late,” he said. 

She looked him up and down and stepped into the hallway. “And you’re charming.”

He let the door snap shut behind her. “How’s the crystal?” he asked, as casually as he could.

“Safe and sound. No need to worry.”

He reached out absently to smooth the collar of her coat. “It must be difficult for you to resist its draw,” he said. “I know how you miss the feeling of power. Maybe you should give it to me to hold.”

With a sigh, she rolled her eyes. “I’m going to keep it, Richard.”

He studied her stoic expression for several seconds, waiting for her to break, but nothing happened. He tutted, grabbed his phone, keys and wallet from the sideboard and headed back to the front door. “Let’s get going.”

“But I did have a thought,” said Pauline, stopping him in his tracks. “Now that we know where Tara keeps our grimoire, we can look for alternatives to the Blood Moon ceremony. Find out how to locate the other crystals.”

Richard raised his eyebrows. “Hassan’s dead body just turned up because you didn’t hide it well enough the first time. Your mistake forced us to silence Kathleen. If you think the rest of the elders aren’t paying attention to this town right now, you’re a fool. I think we need to lay low with the crystal we have for a while.”

“Fine,” said Pauline through pursed lips. “That may be for the best.” She held the door open for him to step past her, into the evening. 

“You may have the crystal,” he said. “But you still need me. Let’s not forget that.”

The two of them walked the short distance into town and then across to Truham Grammar. Volunteers had spent the day building a bonfire on the field, making sure there was sufficient space left between it and the ropes to satisfy the health and safety inspectors. At the edge of the field, a variety of food vendors were busy serving the first few early arrivals. 

It was like he blinked and the field was suddenly full of people. Lots of students, some teachers, and families of all ages were bundled up against the cold, steam lifting from cups of hot drinks and containers of greasy food, faces glowing in the flickering light of the bonfire. Some people had brought along blankets and camping chairs, but most people, like himself and Pauline, were content to stand.

Richard watched from a distance as Elle arrived with Tao, Tara and Darcy, the sight of them a comfort. The four teenagers joined the long queue of one of the food vans. Pauline was watching them, too, he noticed, a tentatively happy expression on her face.

Elle seemed cheerful enough as she laughed at something Darcy was saying, her arm around Tao’s. They watched Isaac join them, and then, Nick and Charlie arrived, hand in hand and practically glowing, as they always seemed to be, in their love for each other. Soulmates indeed, Richard thought. He hoped for their sake it would work out this time.

The last time he’d seen his daughter and her friends together it had been four in the morning. They’d all been exhausted and traumatised beyond anything he’d seen in a long time. But now they looked just like a regular group of teenagers, young and in love at a fireworks display, cuddling up to their partners to keep warm.

That was when he spotted her, walking casually through the crowd.

“Kathleen?” he said before he could stop himself.

The older woman looked up and smiled. “Richard, Pauline, you’re looking well.” The cup of tea between her hands trembled.

“Are you alright?” asked Pauline.

“I’m fine. It’s just nice to watch Julio having fun.”

Richard frowned. “You mean Charlie?”

Kathleen didn’t seem to hear him. Her gaze upon her grandson had turned cloudy and unfocused.

“Kathleen?” said Pauline. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m not sure…” Kathleen blinked. She lifted her fingertips to her forehead. “I’m a little dizzy. Maybe it’s another migraine, but I just got over one…” She gave her head a little shake. “I’m probably just tired. Too many double shifts at the hospital. It’s nice to see the two of you—together.” She nodded specifically to Richard. “I’m glad to see you’re taking an interest in someone other than Jane Driscoll.”

Richard blinked. “Jane? What are you talking about?”

“Julio always worshipped her, too.”

Richard exchanged a baffled look with Pauline, but Kathleen had already flitted away, towards a cluster of ladies he recognised as her colleagues from the hospital.

“You know,” Pauline nudged his shoulder teasingly, “I always suspected you had a little crush on Jane.” 

“She’s dead. What does it matter?” said Richard. “You said the spell was just supposed to make Kathleen forget everything she saw at the lake house. What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know.”

“You obviously did something wrong.”

“You know what? I’m getting a little sick of your accusations, Richard. We did the spell.”

“You chose it. You did what you wanted. You kept the crystal, and you got the spell from your family’s grimoire so if Kathleen suffers any long-term damage, it’s on you.”

✨

The school field was almost unrecognisable at this time of the night, and with so many people scattered across it. Not to mention the raging bonfire at the far end. Pop music played from overhead speakers and light up toys glowed from many a child’s hand.

Nick and Charlie made their way across the grass to where the others had directed them—to where they were saving a spot for them in the queue for food.

The seven of them exchanged hugs all round. After the events of last weekend, all of them felt much closer. Getting kidnapped together, then finding a dead body together—well, it brought people closer.

The queue moved a little further along, and Nick and Charlie fell into step beside Tao and Elle. “How are you doing?” Nick asked quietly. 

Elle had been quieter than usual, sticking close to Tao’s side for extra comfort. She shrugged, and reached around for the right words. “I’m okay I suppose. I kind of got into an argument with my dad yesterday and I still miss grandpa—I can’t stop thinking about it, finding him like that—but… this is helping.” She noticed the others had turned to listen, and she managed a small smile. “Just doing something normal and fun like this with everyone. So, thanks. I really needed this.”

“Yeah,” said Darcy. “Me too.”

“I think we’ve all needed this,” said Charlie.

Isaac raised his arms. “Aw! Come in, guys!” He pulled them all into a group hug. “We’ll be alright,” he said. “Tonight is gonna be great. I didn’t even bring a book.”

“Wow,” said Tao. “I hope it doesn’t get too boring then.”

“It had better not,” said a voice from behind them. The seven witches turned in alarm.

“Dave?” said Darcy. “What are you doing here?”

David shifted nervously, his hands in his coat pockets. “Um, well, Charlie invited me, so…”

“Right,” said Charlie. “I did. I didn’t think you were interested. You’re not like us, remember?”

“Yeah… well, um… I’m here, so…”

The queue moved on and they suddenly found themselves at the front. Of course David would get there as soon as they didn’t have to wait any longer.

Determined not to let his brother ruin his night—and determined not to let his boyfriend’s incredible generosity be in vain—while they collected their food and found a place to stand, Nick focused on the six people he actually liked.

“I kind of forgot I invited him,” said Charlie, picking at his chips with a little wooden spork. “I can’t believe he actually showed up.”

Nick jabbed at his curly fries. “Hmph.”

“Hey.” Charlie nudged his arm. “You don’t have to talk to him, or interact with him at all. And if he gets really annoying or it gets too much, then I’m sure we can find an excuse to sneak off just the two of us.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” He kissed his cheek. “Thank you, though.”

Still, as they inhaled their food, Nick kept one eye on David. His brother stood with them but a little separated. He tucked into his own food and seemed to be enjoying that at least. At one point, Tara and Darcy disappeared with everyone’s rubbish, then returned with hot chocolates for everyone, including David. He took his cup with a surprised smile and thanked Tara before he seemed to remember to be grumpy. Darcy then procured a tiny bottle of whisky from their pocket and did the rounds, spiking everyone’s drink. David looked decidedly impressed.

Nick exchanged a look with Tao. He remembered their text conversation from last night and considered Tao’s fears about David as well as his own. Tao was renowned for not trusting people easily, for being overprotective, sometimes to a fault. If he suspected David of anything then it didn’t necessarily mean it was true.

The closer the time ticked to eight o’clock and the start of the fireworks, the tipsier the others got. Especially Tara and Darcy, who at ten to, decided to utilise the pop music still playing and start twirling each other around in a dance. Elle, who hadn’t drank any alcohol at all, got pulled into the mix and in turn, pulled Tao with her. Isaac soon joined in, leaving only Nick, Charlie and David on the sidelines.

“Come on, Dave!” Darcy cried, trying to tug at his arms. “Dance!”

“Oh, no, I don’t dance,” David stuttered. “No, thank you.”

Ugh! Not dancing was Nick and Charlie’s thing, not David’s. Nick tried to exchange an annoyed look with Charlie, but his attention was elsewhere. Nick followed his gaze to where Kathleen stood on the opposite side of the bonfire in a huddle of her friends. She was clutching a doughnut in a bag and chatting happily. Nick smiled, but Charlie’s expression was distant, wistful.

“You okay?”

Charlie blinked, then looked away from his grandmother. “I keep trying to picture my dad here when he was our age. Maybe with my mum.” He shook his head and took a sip of his hot chocolate. “It’s silly.”

Nick tucked him more securely under his arm and kissed his hair. “That’s not silly at all.”

“Ever since we found that tree, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. I… I never told my dad, but when I was little—and when I was older sometimes, too—I used to create an imaginary version of her. I would just talk to her all the time. I made up all the things she never got to tell me about herself—her favourite books, her favourite songs, how she took her tea… how proud she was of me.”

“Char, she would be so proud of you if she could see you right now. So happy and proud.”

Charlie managed a small smile. “I like to think so.” He shrugged. “I think she’d at least be proud and happy that I found you.”

A disgusted coughing noise made them look around in time to see David mime throwing up. Nick tensed, his arm tightened around Charlie’s shoulder but—he paused. He took a deep breath. David didn’t actually look disgusted, not really.

“Don’t mind them,” said Isaac, chuckling. “They get all sappy like that sometimes. Often. You get used to it.”

David shook his head, recovering with a sip of his drink. “You know,” he said, edging a little closer to Nick and Charlie. “I used to do a similar thing. With our dad. Pretend he was there when he wasn’t.”

Nick raised his eyebrows. 

“Like if I did really well on a spelling test or I had a football game,” David continued. “Or sometimes when I came home from school, I’d imagine him sitting there, waiting to tell me I’d done well. I had mum, of course, but… yeah, I get it.”

Darcy hurried over to top up David’s drink. Charlie smiled as he accepted his own top up. Tara and Elle were giggling about something with Isaac. And Nick—Nick didn’t know how to think or feel or what to believe. He had never wanted anything in his life more or longer than he’d wanted his brother to care about him. For real. Unconditionally and completely. Because as much as he pretended not to, Nick cared about him. He even missed him sometimes, since he left for university. It was ridiculous, but it happened. 

The music stopped. Darcy and the others groaned, their dancing interrupted. Everyone around them fell quiet. It was eight o’clock. The first firework broke the sky and the display began to rounds of cheers which spread around the field.

Charlie grinned skywards, the colourful light dancing beautifully in his eyes. Nick buried his nose close to Charlie’s ear and whispered, “I love you.”

Charlie laughed, giddy and bright. As the fire exploded into colour and light, he pressed a sweet kiss to his mouth. “I love you.”

Between the sparkles, a phone buzzed. Nick checked his, but he had no new notifications. He looked around and saw David, his own phone screen illuminating his suddenly serious expression.

“What is it?” Nick asked.

“Nothing,” said David, quickly pocketing his phone again. “I’ll be right back.”

And David turned around and hurried away between the gathered crowd, towards the school building. Nick watched him go, then looked around at the others. None of them were paying David any attention, all of them watching the fireworks. Charlie had been pulled into a selfie by Tara. 

Before he could talk himself out of it, Nick shoved his drink into Tao’s hands, and said, “I’m just gonna find the loos.”

Nick hurried after David, apologising to each group of people he had to push past in order to cross the grass quickly. In the near distance, the school buildings stood dark and empty except for the sports block. Light poured from the doors which had been left open so people could use the toilets. Nick jogged towards it but didn’t go inside—because he caught sight of David slipping past it, around the side of the building towards the sports equipment cupboard. As Nick got nearer, he heard voices.

“What are you doing here?” That was David, his voice a panicked hiss.

“I came to find you,” said another voice, one Nick recognised but couldn’t quite place. “The plan has changed.”

Nick made it to the corner of the building. He leaned against the brick wall and tried to quieten his movement, including his breath which fogged out before him in the cold. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and risked a peak around the side.

It was Harry. David was talking to Harry. David was talking to a witch hunter.

“I spoke to the council,” Harry was saying. “And there’s more going on than you know. We’re leaving tonight, but we’re taking Charlie with us.”

Nick froze, listening hard.

“Well,” Harry amended. “You’re taking him. From here. While everyone is distracted by the fireworks.”

“What? Why do I have to do it?”

“The council think it’s too dangerous to leave him here. And his power can be used to our advantage, just like yours only better. Fighting fire with fire, only Charlie Spring is a potential inferno.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said David. “Kidnapping is the sort of thing that might set him off.”

“That’s why I’m asking you to do it. He trusts you now, right?”

David scoffed. “Barely. And no way will he leave his friends tonight. He’d never leave Nick’s side. They’re on a date.”

His brother gave a long sigh. “Fine. I’ll do it, for the good of the society.”

And then Nick was gone. He hurtled back into the crowd, shoved past anyone who happened to get in his way. The field suddenly seemed infinitely vast, each huddle of people identical to the last and yet unfamiliar at the same time. Where exactly had they been standing again? His heart in his chest hurt with how hard it was pounding. The fireworks bursting overhead barely permeated as his feet pounded against the grass. He’d never leave Nick’s side. And yet Nick had left his side.

“Charlie!” he cried. He knew his brother wasn’t to be trusted. He was a witch hunter—his own brother was a witch hunter. “Charlie?!”

He caught sight of Tao’s head and threw himself towards him. Nick burst out from between the huddled crowd. Tao, Elle, Tara, Darcy and Isaac looked around at him in alarm. And his heart dropped out of his chest. He whirled about, frantic.

“What is it?” asked Tara.

“What’s wrong?” said Elle.

“Nick?” said Darcy.

He stared at his gathered friends. “Where’s Charlie?” None of them answered. “Where’s Charlie?”

A few of them stepped back in alarm, but Nick didn’t care—he wanted to shake them. Wanted to shake himself.

Isaac blinked. “He went to go find you.”

✨

Charlie knew how Nick looked when he wanted to escape a social situation. And knew how he looked when pretending he was fine with something he wasn’t. This was one of those times.

Charlie strode out from between the huddled crowd, towards the light coming from the school building. Hadn’t he told Nick he could tell him whenever he needed to escape? Wouldn’t he have preferred to escape together rather than sequester himself in the school loos all alone? Unless he really had just needed the loo…

“Charlie!”

He squinted into the shadows along the side of the building. David was standing there, hands in his coat pockets, looking surprised to have walked into him.

“Have you seen Nick?”

“No.” David rubbed the back of his neck. “Um… actually… I was wondering…” 

“Are you alright? You look kind of jittery and sweaty.”

“Yep, I’m fine. Look, I need a favour.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “What favour?”

“I helped you find your family tree so you owe me one.”

“Right.” Charlie glanced around. “But can’t it wait? I need to find Nick. I’m kind of… worried about him.”

“I’m sure he’s perfectly fine—probably in the loo.” David raised his eyebrows. “Surely you don’t piss and shit together as well as everything else?”

Charlie opened his mouth to retort, but the statement had been more teasing, more lighthearted than he’d ever heard David sound. He let out a sigh. “Fine. What do you need?”

“Great. Come with me.” David began to stride towards the car park and Charlie hurried along the best he could. “I need to show you something. It’s important but I can’t talk about it here in public.” He yanked open his car door and climbed inside. “Come on!”

Charlie chewed at his lip and looked back towards the field. “Where are we going?”

“To mine. We’ll be back before the end of the display.”

The last thing Charlie wanted to do was end the evening early. He’d been so excited about tonight, and he’d been having such a nice time, despite David’s presence. But hadn’t he been trying to extend an olive branch to David when he’d invited him in the first place? And wasn’t this him extending an olive branch back? Charlie slipped into the passenger seat and took out his phone.

CHARLIE (20:11): david says he needs to show me something important at your house and i said i’d go. trying to be nice and all! send me your thoughts and prayers and i’ll be back asap to finish our date xxxxx

CHARLIE (20:12): i love you xxxxx

✨

“Nick!” Tao cried. “Nick! Slow down!”

But Nick wasn’t listening. He kept pushing his way back through the crowd, towards the sports block where he’d last seen David. David and Harry. The witch hunters.

Inside the corridor, Nick threw the toilet door open and peered into each cubicle in turn, aware of his friends hovering along behind him. Charlie was still nowhere to be found—as he had suspected, but hadn’t allowed himself to believe. He stepped back outside.

“Nick!” Tao yelled, tumbling outside after him, the others in tow. “Can you please explain to us what the fuck is happening?”

Nick tried to take a breath. But he couldn’t breathe. He could hardly think, though it felt like his brain was going a mile a minute. They had Charlie. The witch hunters had Charlie. And it was all his fault.

“Nick…” Tara appeared in front of him, her kind face peering into his panic-stricken one. “Look at me. Breathe, Nick. You need to breathe.”

“Has… has something happened to Charlie?” asked Darcy, quietly. The worry seemed to have sobered them up considerably. “You need to tell us what’s happened.”

“David’s a witch hunter,” he gasped. “I saw him t-talking to Harry and they’re—they’re going to kidnap Charlie—tonight.”

With trembling hands, Nick extracted his phone from his coat pocket and checked his texts. His heart plummeted further still. He must have missed the alert with all the noise of the fireworks.

“What is it?” asked Elle.

“He… he said David needed to show him something at home. Something important…”

“Yeah, right,” said Tao, beginning to pace. “God, Charlie, and I thought you were smart.”

“Shut up, Tao.” Nick typed out a warning to Charlie and hit send. “Come on. If he really has taken him to mine then he won’t stay there for long. We need to move.”

✨

Charlie glanced into the Nelsons’ living room as he crossed the hall after David. He’d hoped Sarah was home. Her presence would have been very welcome, but alas, only Nellie greeted them at the bottom of the stairs. After a brief head rub, she plodded away again when she realised she wasn’t about to be fed. “Sorry, Nel,” said Charlie. “You’ll have to wait for Nick to be home.”

He watched the dog go, then turned to follow David up the stairs and into his room. As Charlie stood awkwardly in the doorway, he couldn’t believe he’d allowed David of all people to pull him away from the nicest evening he’d had in a while. The room was much tidier and cleaner than it had been the last time he had been there. A duffle bag, a suitcase and a rucksack were stacked by the wardrobe.

“What’s this about?”

David turned away from the window and Charlie’s question died on his lips. In David’s hands was an old, leather-bound book.

“Is that your family’s grimoire?”

“You wanted to know more about your mum.” David waved the book carelessly. “The Nelsons of the past wrote all about her family in here.”

Charlie narrowed his eyes, and folded his arms across his chest. “I thought you wanted a favour.”

“I’m getting to that.” David flipped open the book, found a specific page, then handed it over.

Charlie looked down at the old, yellowed pages and was greeted by the most horrific sketches of people he’d ever seen. Emaciated, skeletal, their faces contorted into expressions of pure agony. Around the frightening illustrations, the scratchiest, most illegible handwriting.

“These pages warn about the destructive power of dark magic,” David explained. “How it can transform a witch into someone—some thing—evil.”

“What is this? Why are you showing me this?”

“Because you need to know where you come from. Your ancestors did terrible things. Your mum’s lineage is made of the strongest dark magic there is. Waterhouse is the origin of dark magic. That’s why you have the power you do. Burning Ben, finding Hassan—those were not regular solo magic, they were unbindable, immense dark magic.”

Charlie couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the gaunt faces staring up at him from the page. “You’re saying this is what happened to all of my ancestors? All the Waterhouses—they turned into monsters?” His breath caught in sudden panic. “Y-you think that’s going to happen to me?”

David opened his mouth. Then closed it again.

Anger flared in Charlie’s chest. Who was David to tell him who he was or what he was capable of? When had he ever shown true, good intentions towards him? He turned on his heel and made to storm out, ready to steal the Nelsons’ grimoire right out from under David’s nose.

“Wait!” David rushed forward. “That’s why I’m telling you. So you can stop it, so you can try to control it before—before it takes over.”

Charlie turned back to stare into his face, his mind reeling. “You knew. At the lakehouse, on Halloween, at James’ wake—you’ve known this whole time. And all those questions… What have you been doing? Studying me?”

“I knew you were special somehow, but not that you were related to the Waterhouses.”

No. This was ridiculous. This was—this was too much. Charlie turned to leave once again. This time, David reached out and grabbed his arm. Charlie smacked his hand aside. “Get off me.”

David snatched the book from his hands and held the page of horrific faces up to jab at them with his finger. “This is what Eric Blackwood was trying to warn you about. Having this bloodline makes you a target. You have the kind of powers others want, Charlie. You—you have to leave here.”

Flabbergasted, Charlie looked from David’s alarmingly desperate expression, to the bags packed against the wardrobe. “You want me to leave here? With you?” He shook his head in disbelief. “That’s never going to happen, surely you know that? I’d never leave Nick or my gran or my friends, not for anything.”

“But staying here with your dark magic so volatile, it’s only putting them in harm's way.”

“Sticking together as a coven keeps us stronger,” said Charlie. “What if someone comes after them again and I’m out there hiding? I can’t leave them—I won’t.”

The look in David’s brown eyes was difficult to decipher. Charlie should never have come here. He should have just stayed with his friends. God, he should have been kissing his boyfriend under the fireworks right now, not freaking out about some hypothetical family hand-me-down of evil.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and Charlie took it out.

NICK (20:19): DAVID IS A WITCH HUNTER GET OUT OF THERE NOW

“What is it?” said David impatiently.

He was a witch hunter.

Charlie tried to school his face—tried to pretend his pulse hadn’t skyrocketed, like he hadn’t just found out he’d been a massive idiot. An idiot who wanted to help David into someone who could be trusted, who could be a true part of their coven. Idiot.

“N-nothing,” he said. “Just Nick checking in.” Thinking hard, Charlie wandered, in a charade of a thoughtful pace, towards the window and back again. “Everything you’re telling me, it’s—it’s a lot to take in.”

David took a step closer, as if to reassure him, but before he could stop himself, Charlie backed away. The door was wide open behind him. He could just turn and make a run for it…

“You have to trust me,” said David. “I know you’re trying. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. Taking you away from here, so you can’t hurt my brother, is the only way to make all that right. But we need to leave now.”

Charlie looked into David’s face, and searched for any of the righteous anger that had been in the faces of Harry, Ben and Marcus when they had them tied up, and threatened to burn them alive. He couldn’t quite see it. But what did he know? Hadn’t Nick told him over and over that his brother was not to be trusted? That even if it seemed like he was trying to be nice, it wouldn’t last long? It was just a pretense, it was just a trick, a lie that would only hurt you in the end if you were stupid enough to believe it.

“Okay… I’ll, um… I’ll just run to my house and grab some things and then… then we can go.”

David let out a breath. “This is the right thing to do. I promise. Just, be quick, okay?”

Charlie nodded and turned away. He stepped out into the hall.

“Charlie?”

His heart stumbled. “Yeah?”

“You really can trust me.”

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut for a fraction of a second, then without another word, strode for the stairs. He hurried down them, ignored Nellie’s whine from the living room and threw open the front door.

Out into the night, he knew he could make it back to the school on foot, but he had to be fast—he didn’t want David to look out the window and see him go in the wrong direction. But if he could get back to Nick and the others then, as a coven, they could fix this.

His conversed feet struck the pavement as he hurtled down the road. A ringing had filled his head the moment he’d read Nick’s text and it persisted now. Get to Nick. Get to Nick.

Maybe that was why he didn’t hear the van approach.

Didn’t hear it pull up beside him, didn’t hear the doors open.

Marcus darted out, and Charlie almost ploughed into him. 

“No—!” His cry was cut off as Marcus grabbed him, drew a knife and held it across his throat, his other arm pinning him against his chest. “Let me go !”

He wanted to twist and struggle but the knife—he could feel the coolness of the metal against his skin and one wrong move… 

And then Harry was coming towards him, a sickening glee in his eyes as he held up a cloth. 

“No, please, don’t—” 

Harry pressed the cloth over Charlie’s mouth and clamped his hand over it, hard. A sickly sweet scent filled his nose, his mouth. His eyes watered, and he tried to cough, but he couldn’t—couldn’t breathe…

“STOP!”

Charlie blinked through the fuzziness that was clouding his vision. 

David burst out of the Nelsons’ house and hurtled down the pavement towards him. Charlie tried to call out, but all he managed was a muffled cough.

The world slipped. His knees buckled, and his head turned over and over in a dizzy spiral.

There was a distant shout, a dull thunk. David went sprawling to the ground the second before Charlie’s world went dark.

✨

The coven piled into Nick’s car the best they could. He drove more carelessly than he had ever done in his life. Home was not far at all, but it felt like miles and miles, each break, each turning, each time he had to do anything other than get to Charlie made him want to throw up.

The panicked tone which accompanied his friends’ reassurances didn’t exactly help matters. Nothing they said or did could stop his heart from pounding like crazy, nor his hands from shaking over the steering wheel. Not when his mind kept flicking between finding Charlie and finding Charlie gone.

He turned onto River Crescent and parked haphazardly outside his own house. The six of them stumbled out onto the pavement, their heightened breath lifting in clouds around their faces. Everything looked normal, the house in which he lived with his mum and his dog looked just as it always did. The lights were off. But David’s car was in the drive.

“Hang on,” Tara gasped. “Is that David?”

She jogged along the pavement to the left. Someone was indeed slumped over on the path just ahead, and as Nick hurried after Tara, he saw it was indeed David.

Nick pushed past his friends and threw himself down at his brother’s side. He grabbed him by the scruff of his coat and rolled him over, yanked him upright. David’s head lolled and his eyes fluttered.

“David! Wake up! Where’s Charlie? Where is he?”

“Get off—!”

Nick shook him once, quite hard, then let him go. David slumped back onto the pavement with a groan. “Charlie’s in trouble. I tried to stop them but I wasn’t fast enough.”

“But you’re a witch hunter!” Tao snarled.

David glared up at them all for a moment before his face fell. He got unsteadily to his feet, clutching his head. “Y-yes,” he gasped. “And I won’t blame you for hating me forever after this, but we don’t have much time. They have Charlie right now. Get in the car—I know where they’ll stop, but if we miss them, it’s over.”

There was no other option. Nick started back towards his car and yanked open the door.

“How do we know he’s telling the truth?” said Tao. “He could just be leading us all into danger!”

“It doesn’t matter! Tao—” Nick slid into the driver’s seat, his voice breaking. “Please, just get in the car or I’m leaving you here.”

Tao opened his mouth to retort, then closed it again, his eyes shining. Elle grabbed his hand and pushed him into the back seat.

The six of them crammed themselves into the five seats once again, and followed David in his car. David didn’t seem to have as many qualms about the rules of the road as Nick did, but at the same time, he wasn’t going fast enough. Going over the speed limit and with too many people in his car—Nick didn’t care. When they found Charlie—they’ll have found Charlie and nothing else would matter, speeding ticket or not.

None of them spoke. Nick wondered whether the others could manage a full lungful of air because he certainly couldn’t. The lights of the roads and cars around them flashed and blurred, but he forced himself to focus—if he crashed then that would leave only David to help Charlie and… and David was a witch hunter.

His brother was a witch hunter.

In no time at all, but also all the time in the world, they were following David out of Truham, hurtling north. Before Nick could wonder just how far they were having to travel, David began to indicate to the left. Nick looked around at the dark verge on that side of the road. There was no turning near here from what he could remember, not for several miles still. But then David began to slow down and then he was turning. Nick copied, hoping beyond all hope that this time—this time—his brother was not about to turn around and stab him in the back.

David’s car slipped into a narrow gap between one unkempt hedgerow and the next, and Nick followed. He ducked low, squinting around in the darkness ahead. But there wasn’t much to see other than David’s car trundling along the dirt track ahead of them.

“Where are we going?” asked Tao. But none of them had an answer for that.

The road steadily began to widen until there was enough space for David to swerve to one side, brake lights illuminated and park. Nick swerved, braked and parked.

“This had better not be a trap.”

“Tao, please, shut up.” Nick clicked his seatbelt off and climbed out of the car. A cold wind whipped through the surrounding trees, chilling him to the bone. He hugged his coat around himself and jogged over to where David was standing. “Where are we?”

“Shhh!” David hissed as the others hurried over. “Keep quiet and keep low. We don’t want to be seen or heard.”

David leading the way, they edged along the dark road, doing as they were told and keeping quiet and low. If Charlie was nearby Nick wanted to run. He wanted to be moving as fast as possible. But he also knew that could ruin everything. He didn’t know these people, not really. But David did.

They ducked behind the hedges running along the road and moved into more of a jog as they skirted the edge of a farmer’s field. In the corner, David ushered them over to peer through the branches of the tightly packed trees that surrounded an opening beyond the hedges.

If they had carried on along the dirt road they would have come to the clearing they were looking upon now. It was a rest stop, Nick realised. The kind used mostly by travellers and truckers. A few cars were parked in a cluster in the middle of the clearing along with a van and a caravan. A huddle of people were gathered in the center, around a crackling fire pit. From the silhouette of his ridiculously tall hair, Nick recognised Harry Greene. And there was Marcus, too. There were quite a few more witch hunters than there where of them.

“They’re all here,” said David. “All the Kent lot. We’re just in time. Any longer and they would have left.”

“Where’s Charlie?” Isaac hissed.

“In the van. They took him in that van. Can you handle a knife?”

Nick tore his gaze away from the grey shape of the van parked wonkily among the cars. He blinked down at the blade glimmering in David’s hand, the handle held out for him to take. He grabbed it, then pocketed it carefully.

“What do we need a knife for?” whispered Darcy. “We can do magic!”

David shook his head. “Magic won’t work here, these are all ash trees. S’why they like to hang out here. Right, you lot stay here and distract them. I’ll get Charlie.” 

He made to slip through the bushes towards the cars, but Nick grabbed his arm. “No! No way,” he hissed. “You’re not going anywhere near him. You distract. I’ll go.”

Without waiting for a reply, Nick fixed his sights back upon the van and ran out from between the bushes. He stopped himself against the nearest tree and peered around it. Much closer now, he could see the hunters' faces, laughing and drinking from thermos flasks—like they were merely camping. And the sight sickened him. It didn’t matter what these people wanted with Charlie, to use him or to kill him, Nick needed to get into that van.

He risked a glance back towards the others, still lurking behind the bushes. He met Isaac’s eye and nodded.

There was a tremendous whooshing sound and the firepit suddenly erupted into one massive column of fire which reached for the treetops. The hunters jumped away in fright, swearing loudly. Another whoosh, and the inferno curled up into a ball. Then it launched itself at the hunters. At once, they scattered, running for the trees—thankfully, away from where Nick was hiding.

There was no time to stop and stare or marvel at his friends’ magic—Nick ducked around his tree, sprinted into the clearing, and around the side of the caravan. He could hear the distant shouts of the hunters, still being chased by the fireball. He leapt over a drinks cooler, gravel crunching underfoot, and stumbled up against the back doors of the van.

“Charlie?” He dared not speak any louder. He couldn’t be certain all the hunters had been distracted by the fireball. He grasped the door handles and yanked at them. They flew open with considerable force—he’d expected them to be locked.

Suddenly, found himself face to face with the back of a large wardrobe, the side of an old sofa, a stack of suitcases, a box of books and other miscellaneous junk.

The van was packed with everything a group of witch hunters might need when escaping town at short notice. Including, Nick hoped, an extra special witch with extra special powers.

He leapt up into the van, and ducked around the side of the wardrobe. It was a tight squeeze, but Charlie was nearby. He could feel him the warm blanketing feeling, in the way his heightened heart rate evened out and his hands finally stilled.

He climbed over the sofa, into an empty space in the very middle of the van—as if whoever had loaded the vehicle had done so with the express purpose of hiding the true cargo. “Charlie?” Dumped between a bookcase and stack of cardboard boxes, he lay unconscious, his wrists and ankles bound with rope.

Nick threw himself down at his side, and grasped his shoulders. “Charlie? Charlie!? ” He shook him as gently as he could. 

His head lolled. A groan escaped his lips. 

“Charlie, you need to wake up. Come on, please.” He touched his fingertips to his hair, to his cheek, checking for any sign of physical injury.

Charlie’s brow furrowed, and he grimaced. “Nick?” His eyes fluttered open.

“Oh, thank god—Charlie…” Nick wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and helped him sit up. “Are you hurt?”

Charlie blinked around at the back of the bookcase, the side of the sofa. “No.” He winced. “But my head fucking hurts.”

“Shit,” said Nick. “Hold still.” He took out the knife, and cut the binds around Charlie’s ankles and wrists. As the ropes fell away, the distant yelling outside suddenly seemed not quite so distant. Charlie’s eyes widened.

“Are you okay to run?” Nick whispered. “We need to be ready to run.”

Charlie nodded, and took Nick’s hand. He let him pull him to his feet, and Nick led the way back over the furniture. They jumped down onto the gravel outside.

They shut the van doors behind them as quietly as they could—

One second Charlie’s hand was in his, the next it wasn’t. Someone grabbed Nick, an arm across his chest, and he was pulled roughly aside. A blade flashed, and then its metal was pressed to Nick’s throat.

“You’re not going anywhere,” said Harry Green, his mouth an inch from Nick’s ear.

“Let him go!” Charlie cried. 

“Or what?” Harry scoffed. “Your magic won’t work here.”

“Are you sure you want to try me?” The firelight glowed orange in Charlie’s eyes. “Last time I burned one of your mates.”

“Char, run—!”

Harry clamped his free hand over Nick’s mouth, muffling his cry. At once, Charlie’s magic changed—it flooded Nick like a raging fire, hot and immense—no, like a phoenix. For he was also beautiful and good . He felt it brush his cheek like a kiss, as it swept past—and Harry suddenly let go.

Nick stumbled forwards, into Charlie’s arms, as Harry went sprawling backwards onto the ground. A second later, David appeared from between the cars—and hauled Harry up against the side of the van. “Get out of here!” he yelled.

Charlie swiped a sleeve across his bloody nose, then grabbed Nick’s hand and, together, they ran.

Back through the trees, they slipped through the gap in the bushes, into the farmer’s field where the others were still standing. “Charlie!” The others cried, but there was no time to say anything more. They stumbled back along the side of the field, onto the dirt track where they’d left the cars.

The sound of engines starting from the rest stop made them all stop in their tracks. The hunters were coming and they were coming fast. “Quick!” Tara cried. “The fire! Again!”

From the embers of the firepit, a new fireball burst forth. It circled the clearing, leaving a line of flames as it went, until the hunters were entirely blocked off on all sides. And as the ash trees shrivelled and burned, the coven of witches threw themselves into Nick’s car.

“I’ll drive,” Elle gasped. “Let me drive.”

Nick and Charlie tumbled together into the passenger seat while Tara and Darcy squished into the back with Tao and Isaac.

Charlie did up their seatbelt, then secured his arms around Nick. He was trembling so hard, Charlie was glad he wasn’t being made to drive just yet. His own heart was thudding so painfully in his ears, the throbbing in his head had become a mere afterthought as Elle drove back onto the main road.

None of them spoke or did anything other than breathe and hold onto each other, until they arrived on the edge of town and Elle pulled into a supermarket car park. 

She turned off the engine and let out a breath. “Charlie, are you alright?”

Nick’s head was buried against his chest and it was all Charlie could do to hold onto him, to stroke his back and kiss his hair.

“Charlie!” Tao cried, exasperated.

“He’s not,” said Tara. “But he’s here. Nick’s got him. He’ll be okay.”

“Jesus christ, that was insane!” Darcy exclaimed. “Did you see that fireball go up like whoosh!? We are some seriously badass witches, guys! Well done us!”

“Right,” said Elle. “That was pretty impressive.”

“Wait,” said Isaac. “What happened to David?”

“He’s gone,” Charlie heard himself say. “With the rest of the witch hunters.”

Nick buried his face further into Charlie’s chest and sobbed.

Chapter Text

chapter nineteen: scared of me

The air was bitter and cold on this side of November. Their entwined hands were not much warmer, though the light patter of paws beside them helped to remind them that good things existed.

It had taken Nick and Charlie a long while to accept that a new day had arrived, that it was Saturday—a day made for sleeping in, relaxing and lazing around while ignoring all the coursework they had to get done. The aftershocks of the night before clung to Charlie, less and less as the hours passed and the three of them trudged along on their walk, but still they clung.

Nick hadn’t wanted to go home. Hadn’t wanted to lie to his mum about where his brother had gone. And Charlie hadn’t wanted to let him go. So Elle had dropped them off at Charlie’s, and the others had walked home, insisting they were fine, that Charlie needed rest.

But didn’t they understand? Charlie was fine. Charlie could cope. Didn’t they see that Nick was the one who hadn’t spoken a word since he left his brother behind in that fiery nest of witch hunters? Because he hadn’t.

He had bundled his boyfriend into the house, up the stairs and into the shower. Not wanting to part, they had cleaned up quickly, then collapsed into bed. Nick had curled himself around Charlie’s side and fallen asleep almost immediately.

Charlie on the other hand… couldn’t. For hours he had lain awake, watching the rise and fall of Nick’s chest, the deep line of his brow as he fought off whatever horrors had followed him into his dreams. He had pressed kiss after kiss to his face, hoping some of them would permeate enough to let him know he was still there, and always would be.

Charlie had woken with the afternoon to find their positions reversed. They had been nose-to-nose on the pillows, and Nick’s eyes had been so full of love. Pain, but also love.

A text had come from Sarah as they got dressed. David had gone back to Glasgow. And Nellie needed walking.

They walked for a long time. Much further than they usually went—up to the hilltop where the wind blew harder and the sky felt closer. Nellie loved to frolic about in the undergrowth, and the boys took their seat on a bench overlooking their town. Nick snuggled closer and Charlie tucked his head onto his shoulder.

“Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” When Nick didn’t reply, Charlie lifted his head. “Nick, what could you possibly have to be sorry about?”

“I—I don’t know.” He chewed at his lip, eyes shining. “I just keep thinking about all the things I should have done differently. All the ways I should have—I should have protected you—from my own brother at least.”

“Nick…”

“And I’ve been so useless, ever since we got out of there. I should be there for you, not th-the other way round. Y-you got fucking kidnapped and I…”

“You found me,” said Charlie. “You snuck into the witch hunter’s camp and got me out of there. You are far from useless, and you have every right to… to not be okay, after all that. I barely remember any of it except… You were held at knifepoint, Nick. Harry was ready to kill you t-to get me to co-operate and if… if he had I…”

Charlie’s voice broke and tears welled in his eyes. He swallowed thickly and forced the terror down. He couldn’t afford to worry about what could have happened when what had happened was bad enough.

Nick met his eye, then leaned forwards so their foreheads touched. His fingers wrapped around Charlie’s, and stroked absent circles over his hand. “God, you were so incredible. I think you really scared Harry—he was so scared of you—and your power, I felt it change.”

Charlie’s heart dropped. He leaned away. Let go of his hands. “You did?”

“Yeah. It was beautiful and… and hot.”

“What?”

“I mean temperature-wise, but also the other thing, too.” Nick tried for a grin.

But Charlie couldn’t find the humour.

Nick had felt his magic change.

And if he was honest, he had felt it too. Suddenly, those images from the Nelson’s grimoire flooded his mind. The gaunt and agonised expressions of… had they been illustrations of the Waterhouses or of their victims?

Either way, Charlie couldn’t let that happen.

“What do you remember exactly?” said Nick, swiping a wrist across his cheeks.

“Not… not much. I remember going to find you at the bonfire, but then I ran into David. He convinced me to leave with him and I was trying to trust him so… He took me to his room and tried to convince me to leave town with him. He does have your family’s grimoire, by the way.”

“Really? You saw it?”

“Y-yeah. Only very briefly. He must have taken it with him. Anyway, I remember getting your text and pretending to leave to get my things, but as soon as I left your house they jumped me. Harry and Marcus. And the next thing I remember is you calling my name and waking up in the van. I didn’t know where I was, there was shouting in the distance, I had the biggest headache ever, and I was scared but… you were there, Nick. If I had woken up alone...” He shivered and tucked his hands beneath the sleeves of his coat. “How did you even know where to find me?”

Nick took a deep breath. “It was David… he led us to you.” He caught Charlie’s look of surprise and nodded. “Yeah, I know. I overheard him talking to Harry at the bonfire, heard Harry tell him that the plans had changed and they were going to leave town and take you with them. By the time I got back to the others, you’d gone. I got your text and so we drove to my house as fast as we could but all we found was David. They’d knocked him out I suppose… for some reason…”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Oh!” he said. “I heard someone cry out when Harry jumped me. I thought I’d imagined it but—it was David. He was trying to stop them from taking me, but they knocked him out.”

“He was trying to… help you, even then?”

Charlie turned over the conversation he’d had with David, skipping past the especially terrifying hypotheticals and focusing on the facts. “I think maybe his loyalty to the witch hunters isn’t very solid. Even though I would never have gone with him in a million years, he was trying to carry out his orders, to bring me with them, in a way that wouldn’t hurt me.”

Nick scoffed. “It’s literally the least he could have done after being with them all this time. What about all that shit on Halloween? And he blamed James for having that knife in his room. Pretty easy to shove the blame onto someone who’s dead and can’t defend themselves.” He dropped his head in his hands and tugged at his hair. “I don’t even know why I’m so surprised. I’ve suspected him for a while but I kept telling myself it couldn’t be true. David may be an arse but he would never—never do anything to hurt me… not like that.”

And there was nothing Charlie could say. He’d been so willing to believe David was trying to change, for Nick’s sake and the sake of their coven.

Nellie trotted over to whine up at them. Charlie looked around and remembered where they were, sitting on a bench on the hilltop, the town stretched out before them. If he squinted he could just about make out the edge of the woods where the cottage lay. He got to his feet and held out his hand for Nick to take.

With a long sigh, Nick took it and they set off back along the riverside path. Nellie plodded along calmly, eager to get back into the warm and have a nap. The trail was quiet for a Saturday afternoon and it would have been peaceful if it wasn’t for the details Charlie had left out of his story chasing each other around his head.

He needed to tell Nick about the possibility of him having dark magic. He had to warn him what he could be sleeping next to, what he might be holding hands and walking his dog with.

But Nick still looked so pale and shellshocked. He couldn’t do it. Not now. He’d worked so hard and risked so much to get him back—how could Charlie tell him it may have all been for nothing? That it may have been better to leave him there, where he couldn’t hurt the ones he loved?

For the rest of the weekend, Charlie stuck by Nick’s side like glue. He distracted with video games and boardgames, with his favourite foods, with stupid YouTube videos and endless Marvel films. When the group chat asked after him, Charlie spoke to each coven member privately, assuring them they were both okay but not to keep asking Nick about David. He was gone, they didn’t know where and they didn’t know if he’d be back.

No, they didn’t know whether Nick’s brother wanted to murder them all or not. Stop asking.

If Charlie just ignored his dark magic it would go away, right? If he just focused on his boyfriend and his needs, he couldn’t possibly turn into a monster and strangle him in his sleep, surely?

The thought did occur to him, each night as he lay beside him in one of their beds, that if something were to take hold of him—something dangerous—then Nick would be victim number one.

Which was why he forced himself not to fall asleep, not to think bad thoughts, only to think of Nick and his love and how much he wanted to protect him. They were soulmates. Surely that meant something.

They headed into school together on Monday morning, Charlie determined to keep up his plan to distract Nick, to cheer him up, to reassure him that even if he didn’t want to talk about David right now, he could whenever that changed. Nick seemed to be enacting the same plan, though they hadn’t spoken about it.

They spent their morning break secluded in a stairwell, distracting each other the best way they knew how. People rarely used the classrooms on that side of the school and so Nick and Charlie were free to snog each other to their heart's content until the bell rang. Or until Charlie flinched and ruined everything.

“Sorry,” he gasped.

Nick dropped his hands at once. They had tugged Charlie’s shirt free, and had been exploring his back innocently enough.

“Hey, no s-words.”

“Still… I’m sorry. I was… enjoying it, only…”

“Only you’d rather I stay over the clothes?” There was no judgement in Nick’s gaze, only a willingness to understand and comply.

“Ugh!” Charlie let his head fall back against the wall. “Apparently that’s too much for me today.”

“That’s okay. Thank you for telling me.”

For the rest of the day, Charlie could tell Nick could tell there was something he wasn’t telling him. He didn’t bring it up, didn’t push or pry. He just made sure to cuddle him as much as possible, to check in and turn the conversation onto brighter topics whenever they or their friends strayed too far into the dark.

Sitting in the common room over lunch, Charlie found himself utterly enamoured with Nick all over again. If anyone was going to stop Charlie from becoming some dark magic-crazed monster, then it was the boy right beside him—the one whose name was written beside his in the stars.

After school they paid the cottage a brief visit to catch up with the rest of the coven, exchange hugs, well wishes and reassurances that they were all doing as well as they could be. It took a while for Tao to let Charlie go, but after he’d yawned three or four too many times, Nick insisted that they needed to go home and rest.

The meetup had been rejuvenating though and Nick and Charlie were feeling relatively chipper as they made their way back across town to Charlie’s house.

They hung their coats on the hooks by the door, then turned—and jumped.

“Jesus!” Nick gasped.

“Gran?”

Kathleen was standing in the hallway. Just standing there. Staring, her eyes glazed over. 

“Is she sleepwalking?” Nick whispered.

“I don’t know…”

Charlie moved forward cautiously, not wanting to scare her if she really was asleep. But as he drew closer, she blinked. And blinked again, as if she could see him now but didn’t quite understand what he was

“Gran? Are you okay?”

“What… what am I…?” Kathleen glanced around at the shoes and coats, at the sideboard and the mirror beside her. “How did I get in here? I thought I was…” She looked back at Charlie. “Julio?”

He exchanged an alarmed look with Nick, his heart dropping. “I-I’m Charlie, remember?”

“And…” Kathleen peered up at Nick. “Stéphane? What are you doing here?”

“No, gran, it’s Nick. My boyfriend.”

“What happened to Jane?”

“Um… she died. Ages ago.” Charlie shook off his unease and took her arm. “Let’s go and sit down. We should sit.”

He nodded to Nick, but he was already leading the way into the kitchen. Charlie pulled out a chair from the table and Kathleen sat down. “Th-thank you,” she said. Brow furrowed, her eyes continued to flick from Charlie to Nick in confusion.

“What’s this?” asked Nick. He gestured to the laptop which had been left open on the kitchen counter. “Charlie, maybe you should look at this.”

He patted his grandmother on the shoulder, then joined Nick by the counter. A website had been left open displaying several photographs of smiling elders and medical staff.

“Gran?” said Charlie. “Do you remember Googling this?”

He brought the laptop over and sat beside his grandmother, showing her the screen.

She frowned at it for a moment before she blinked and her eyes cleared. “Oh. Right, yes. I was thinking of booking myself in here for a few days. I’ve been having problems remembering things.”

“Has it really gotten that bad?” But Charlie knew it had.

Kathleen nodded solemnly. “They sent me home from work early today. I know it was for the best—I could be putting patients at risk with my… forgetfulness, but…” She sighed.

“It’s hard for you to accept that you’re the one in need of help now.” Charlie gave her a soft smile. “We really are related.”

She tried to smile back but it came out as more of a grimace. “Will you help me book it? Every time I try, it’s like it triggers an episode, and I suppose I wander away and forget what I’m doing.”

“Of course, if you think it’ll help. Where is this place anyway?”

“Oh, it’s not too far. Just outside of Canterbury. I’ve been recommending it to patients for years, they always get good results.”

While Nick put the kettle on, Charlie ushered his gran into the living room where they could be more comfortable as they worked through the application form. It was simple enough to fill in, only when they got to the end it turned out there wasn’t a spot in the program for another two weeks.

And thus, the waiting began.

Charlie moved the daisies Nick had bought onto the dining room table, since Kathleen enjoyed them, too. He and Nick hung out with Kathleen as much as they could, but when the rest of the coven realised what was going on, they offered to pitch in. Soon the six of them plus Sarah, Yan and Isaac’s mum Emma, were all on board to make sure Kathleen was never alone for too long.

Much to her chagrin.

It was usually her job to look after people, not the other way around. Charlie knew if it were him, he’d want everyone to piss off so he could wallow in peace, but at the same time, he didn’t know what else to do for her.

Her spells of memory loss didn’t seem to affect her in any physical way, she wasn’t in any pain, only that she got so confused when it happened and started to wander. The last thing he wanted was for her to wander out the front door and into the road.

Which was why they took it in turns to sit with her, watching TV, reading and playing games. Tao tried to make her watch Donny Darko, which only confused her more. Elle painted her fingernails while Isaac read aloud. Darcy agreed to let her teach them how to knit while Tara introduced her to the wonders of Taylor Swift. Charlie wasn’t sure who had been more successful.

It was the beginning of week two when Charlie stopped bothering to correct her when she called him Julio. When he and Nick stopped kissing in front of her—to avoid the added confusion of why Julio and Stéphane suddenly seemed so keen on each other.

This only helped a little bit. They still caught her watching them curiously from time to time. They knew their love for each other was not so easily covered up with the removal of kisses.

Monday night was when everything changed.

Nick, Charlie and Kathleen had spent the evening in the kitchen, dancing about to Taylor Swift and baking cookies. And brownies, and cupcakes. Kathleen had always been more of a cook than a baker, but her expertise in the kitchen transcended any memory issues she may have had. Charlie had mostly bopped about, getting in the way and occasionally mixing things, enjoying watching two of his favourite people bond over something they both loved.

That night, they had gone to bed exhausted, but thankful they were halfway through their wait for treatment. For the first time in a long time, Charlie fell asleep before Nick, suddenly and completely.

And that was when the nightmares came.

First, he and his gran would be walking along the edge of a beautiful cliff, overlooking the sea—but then she would start to drift, to wander closer to the edge, and he would wake, hours later, still panicked that she would fall.

Then it morphed into her actually falling.

Then he knew it was he who had pushed her—his fault she had fallen to her death.

By Friday it wasn’t just his gran but his friends, too.

On Sunday it was Nick.

His cries of betrayal still rang in Charlie’s ears as he was dragged back into reality. His bed covers were tangled around him, the sheets damp with sweat, his cheeks cold and wet. Thankfully, Nick had gone home to sleep that night, so Charlie could continue to pretend everything was fine.

Nick was doing much better, thriving off looking after others, and throwing himself into his coursework, rugby and work at the cafe. Charlie didn’t want to ruin that. And so Nick didn’t need to know. They were just dreams after all. He was just stressed. He was just tired.

When the day finally came to drop Kathleen off at the clinic, as much as he felt guilty, Charlie was glad. Nick drove them to the outskirts of Canterbury, and as Kathleen was guided away by a friendly looking nurse, Charlie felt a weight lift from his shoulders. She was in good hands. They could help her here. This was for the best.

Back at home, Nick nudged Charlie gently awake, and Charlie lifted his cheek away from where it had been pressed against the car window. The exhaustion of the last few weeks seemed to have caught up with him the moment those doors had closed behind his grandmother.

He followed Nick into the house—his grandmother’s house. It felt so much bigger and quieter without her. Charlie flitted into the kitchen and plucked the long-dead daisies from their vase. He binned them and sighed.

Nick wrapped his arms around him from behind and leaned his chin on his shoulder. “Your gran would be so proud of you, and your dad, too. I’m so proud of you.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if… if you knew…”

Nick’s arms tensed slightly, then he drew away just enough so Charlie could turn around and face him… But he couldn’t quite meet his eyes. Not when they were filled with concern as they so often were these days.

“Charlie? What’s going on?”

“N-nothing. Just tired.”

Nick shook his head. “It’s more than that, I can tell. I’ve… I’ve been letting you pretend. You took care of me, you took care of your gran, but now, I think it’s your turn.”

“I’m fine, I don’t need—”

“Charlie… You’ve barely looked up for weeks, barely let me… let me touch you—”

“You said that was okay!”

“It is!” Nick scrubbed a hand through his hair. “It is okay, of course it is. I’d never ever do anything like that if you didn’t want me to, and I’d never hold it against you. But it does make me worry about you… like, I know there’s something else going on, something making you feel so… so self-conscious or, I dunno… Please, just talk to me, Char. Maybe I can help?”

“You can’t.” Charlie swallowed thickly. “You can’t help me, not with this.”

Nick reached forward and tentatively placed his hands on Charlie’s shoulders. “Try me.”

Charlie looked up into his face. He saw the trust and the love there. That was always there. “I—I can’t. I’m sorry. I do want to tell you, but… I’m scared . It scares the shit out of me, Nick, all of it, and I know I’m being selfish by not telling you—you need to know—only…”

“What are you scared of happening if you did tell me?”

“That you’d… leave me.”

“Charlie—”

“You’d have every right, if you knew.”

“Look at me. Please, look at me, Char.”

He did.

“There is nothing you could ever tell me that would make me do that, I swear it on… on the universe.” 

Nick pressed a firm kiss to Charlie’s forehead then bundled him into a hug. Charlie hesitated for only a second, then wrapped his own arms around him.

“You don’t have to tell me right now,” said Nick. “You never have to tell me anything, but I am here for you. No matter what it is, I’ll—I’ll fight for you every time.”

And so, despite the fact that Charlie had insisted Nick go home to sleep for the past several nights, he allowed himself to be whisked up the stairs to bed. He let himself be held by his favourite pair of strong rugby arms, and kissed into a delirious frenzy before falling asleep with Nick’s head over his heart.

A creaking sound woke him.

With a groan, Charlie reached blindly across the bed, seeking the warmth he had foolishly rolled away from. His hand found nothing but cold, empty mattress.

The creaking came again, louder this time, and Charlie sat up, squinting around in the darkness. “Nick?”

Had he just got up to use the loo? Or was there someone else inside the house?

Charlie climbed out of bed, and crept towards the closed bedroom door. Another creak. He stopped, barefoot on the rug, staring at the metal handle. “Nick, if that’s you, I swear to god…”

An icy chill swept through the room, and he shivered. He wondered vaguely if a window had been left open. But then the creaking came once again—and this time, it sounded as if it were coming from just outside in the hallway.

The door burst open. And a man stepped inside.

Charlie staggered back. It wasn’t Nick.

“David,” he gasped. “What are you—? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Silhouetted in the doorway, David regarded him with a quirked eyebrow. “Your front door was open. You should be more careful.”

“But you left,” said Charlie. “With the witch hunters. Whose side are you even on?”

“Yours,” said David. “I promise. They weren’t very happy with me after I helped you get away.”

Charlie folded his arms and glared. “So what? You just expect us to… to welcome you back with open arms?”

“No. I have to talk to you—about dark magic.”

At the utterance of those two words, a stone fell into his chest, threatening to crush his heart and his lungs. His palms itched, and he squeezed them into fists, trying not to be sick. “You… you said I could control it.”

David blinked. “That’s what I came to tell you.” His brown eyes flashed. “I was wrong. You can’t .”

“No…” Charlie’s voice wavered as he took another step back towards the bed. “You said I could… You said I might learn to control it so I wouldn’t hurt anyone—that’s what you told me!”

David shook his head. “Evil is evil, end of. I wanted to help you, but the truth is… no one can.”

“I am not evil.”

“You don’t need me to tell you that’s a lie.” David inched further into the room, towering over him with his cold expression, and his colder words. “You have evil blood.”

Charlie’s legs hit the bed frame.

“Waterhouse blood. The devil’s blood.”

David leered over him, hands outstretched. Charlie tumbled backwards onto the bed. He scrambled backwards to the headboard, but David was fast, and there was nowhere else to run. David’s long fingers reached for his throat—

“NO!”

Charlie’s hands connected with David’s chest—and David flew. Out the room and into the hallway where he hit the wall with a thunk. He slid to the floor with a groan. He coughed.

Breathing hard, Charlie pushed himself up to stare at the damage he had done. David was choking—on what, Charlie didn’t know. He wanted to get up, to make sure he was okay, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, not even as David’s throat closed, not even as blood bubbled from his mouth, and dripped down his chin.

The sound coming from his throat was horrible and wet until… he fell silent. David slumped sideways onto the carpet, brown eyes open wide but empty.

✨

“NO!”

Nick was ripped from sleep with a start.

Charlie had moved right to the edge of the bed, curled so tightly around himself it looked painful. Usually he only cried out like that in Nick’s nightmares.

“Char?” He reached to smooth a hand across his back, so tense and arched. “Charlie, you need to wake up.”

His eyes remained screwed tightly shut. His hands were white around his own arms, and his breaths came out in sharp, ragged gasps.

“Charlie, please, wake up… Come on, please…”

A trembling whine escaped Charlie’s throat. And then he opened his eyes.

His terrified gaze caught Nick’s.

“Char? You awake?”

Charlie threw himself over the side of the bed. He stumbled into the corner of the room where he landed slumped against the wall, his knees to his chest, hands in his tangled hair.

Hands out-stretched, Nick clambered out of bed, and edged towards him. “Charlie, it’s over. You’re awake. You were having a nightmare.”

“Don’t come near me!”

Nick flinched, and retracted his hands at once.

Charlie let out a sob, and clutched his hair even tighter. His eyes were wide as he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. I won’t, I promise, I promise, I promise…”

Over and over, he continued to repeat the words until they became little more than a whispered gasp. Eventually, he seemed to deflate. He wrapped his arms around his knees, and let his head fall onto his arms.

Nick sank down onto the floor opposite him, his own back against the side of the bed. He tried to keep his voice as soft and calm as possible while his heart thudded painfully. “You’re not going to hurt me. You would never do that.”

“I might not be able to c-control myself.”

“What do you mean?” Nick ached to go to him, to pull him into his arms. “You’re not… possessed, are you? Like James and Isaac?”

Charlie gave a minuscule shake of his head. Nick let out a breath. Thank god.

“It’s in my blood,” said Charlie. “The solo magic I can do it’s… it’s dark magic.” He lifted his head, his blue gaze intense. “It comes from the Waterhouse line and… it’s evil.”

“W-what?” It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water down Nick’s back. “How do you know that?”

“When David showed me your family grimoire, he—he showed me a page all about the Waterhouse bloodline. How theirs is the origin of dark magic, and how all of them—all those people on the tree—ended up doing terrible things. How they all turned into monsters.” His voice broke. “ That’s going to happen to me. ”

“Oh, Char…” Nick opened his arms. “Come here. Please, Charlie… please…”

He watched the battle play across Charlie’s face for only a moment before Charlie threw himself across the small stretch of carpet, and around Nick’s middle. He buried his face there, and sobbed. And finally— finally, Nick held him.

“Listen to me right now,” said Nick, his own voice thick with unshed tears. “That is not going to happen. Not to you. I won’t let it. We’ll find a way to stop it—there must be a way.”

“David said I could but he d-didn’t s-say how or anything fucking useful…”

“Only enough to scare the shit out of you, yeah, sounds like David.”

“I shouldn’t—” Charlie tried to pull away. “You sh-shouldn’t be hugging me. Y-you should be scared of me.”

Nick relaxed his arms, but did not let go. Inside, his heart felt like it was crumbling as he bent to kiss Charlie’s curly head. He inhaled his familiar scent, and let a few of his own stray tears fall. “I can’t fathom ever being scared of you, Charlie. You would never, ever hurt anyone on purpose. I know that for a fact.”

Nick quickly swiped his wrist over his cheeks, then resumed his steady stroking of Charlie’s back. Slowly but surely, his breathing evened out, and his cries dwindled. He felt Charlie let out a breath as he relaxed to snuggle more comfortably in his lap.

“Is that what you were dreaming about?” Nick asked. “Th-the dark magic?”

He watched Charlie’s throat bob as he swallowed. “I never want to hurt anyone, not even in the dreams. It’s like I’m trapped in my own body, and I can’t control my own actions. If that’s what it’s going to be like in real life, then…” He shivered. “I can’t let that happen, even if it means I have to d—”

“No.”

Charlie sat up to look at him. “Nick, I might have to. If it’s between me and someone else, it has to be me, every time.”

“I said, no.” Nick cupped his face between his hands, and implored him to see reason. “I know right now that seems like the only solution, but trust me— trust me, Char, it is not going to come down to that. We are going to find a way through this together. And nobody will have to die.”

Charlie dropped his gaze to his own hands. His palms were a little red from where he’d been squeezing them so tightly. Nick took them in his own, and smoothed a gentle thumb over the tender marks. Softly, he ushered Charlie up from the floor, then shook the duvet back into place across the bed. They climbed into the warmth they had been so cruelly torn from.

“You know,” said Nick when their arms were back around each other, and they were looking up at the stars. “One of those books Tara and Darcy were looking at before had a lot of stuff about dark magic. The one that helped us figure out what was happening to Hazel.”

Charlie let out a heavy sigh. “Nick, I can’t tell anyone about this. I’m sorry, but I… I don’t want them to have to choose between my friendship and their safety. I didn’t even want to tell you.”

“I’m glad you did.” Nick pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m just sorry you’ve been holding this in for so long. I knew there was something going on—something you weren’t telling me, but I never expected…”

“I would understand if… if you wanted to leave,” said Charlie. “You don’t have to stay, not as my boyfriend or anything at all if—”

“Charlie Spring, if I hear one more self-deprecating word from you then I swear I will break up with you.”

And then, as if taking even himself by surprise, Charlie snorted. “Are you sure about that?”

Nick blinked. “No,” he said. “But seriously, I’m here—and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out, you and me. We’ve made a pretty good team so far, I think.”

“Yeah,” said Charlie, closing his eyes. “We have. Just as long as I’m still me, and you’re not dead.”

✨

It had been two weeks and four days since Tara had slept without remembering the fire she and her coven had created. Without reliving in her dreams the joy of the fireworks display turning to terror with Nick’s frantic demand of Where’s Charlie? The helpless desperation of standing on the outside, unable to do anything as she watched her friend run into a camp of witch hunters. All there had been was to focus on maintaining that ball of fire—and hoping desperately that they were not actually hurting anyone.

She had been taking one day at a time. She’d thrown herself into school and spending as much time with Darcy as she could. With her other friends and with Charlie’s gran when the time had come. Those were things she could do—normal, teenaged things.

Like Bonfire Night should have been.

That night, she’d fallen into bed with Darcy, and cried for a long time. Charlie had become one of the best friends she’d ever had, and she couldn’t help but feel responsible for everything that had happened to him since he arrived in Truham. 

But now Tara was ready for school on a Wednesday morning like any other, wishing the Christmas holidays would hurry up already, but knowing they still had three whole weeks. With a tired sigh, she discarded her cereal bowl into the sink and picked up her phone.

DARCY (7:04): good morning my lovely radiant princess t 😘

TARA (7:11): Good morning my dearest love! I can’t wait to see you ❤️

DARCY (7:12): finally she wakes! thought i was gonna have to go over there and kiss u awake like a dashing disney prince

DARCY (7:12): which im still up for btw

TARA (7:13): On second thoughts, maybe I’m actually still asleep and sleep-texting you? 😉

DARCY (7:13): 😘😘😘😘😘😘 WAKE UP!!!!!!

DARCY (7:13): did it work?

TARA (7:14): 🤔 Don’t think so… might have to try it in person 🤣

DARCY (7:14): will do will do

DARCY (7:14): anyway jonesy, i’ve had a serious brain wave on the whole mopey post traumatic situation front and i need u to tell me whether its a bad idea or a really bad idea

TARA (7:15): I’m listening/reading…

DARCY (7:17): so we need to take back some control/power right? and the best way to do that is with solo magic! think about it if char-char had been able to do solo magic—i mean og solo magic from before we bound—then maybe he’d never have been kidnapped and maybe i wouldnt still get all depressed every time i remember nicky-knack’s scared little face

TARA (7:18): I’m not sure solo magic is the answer though. I don’t know if you remember all the trouble it caused the first time around. We basically murdered Imogen.

DARCY (7:19): so we can basically murder witch hunters and demons and all the horrible things that try to get in our way! before they hurt us!

TARA (7:20): I suppose if there is another way of doing solo magic then maybe we should at least try to find it.

DARCY (7:20): exactly! i’ve been going through the books i borrowed again all night and i think we should call a meeting later so we can discuss as a coven! if we all research then i’m sure we’ll find something useful!

And with that, Darcy disappeared offline.

A knock on the front door broke Tara out of her swirling thoughts. With a sigh, she pushed herself away from where she’d been leaning against the kitchen counter and went to answer the door.

“Grandma!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, my darling, Tara.” The woman wrapped her into a brief but firm hug, her elegant scent familiar from childhood.

“Come in.” She eyed the case in her grandma’s hand. “Are you here to stay over?”

“Just for a couple of nights. If you’ll have me.”

“Of course.”

Tara had always admired her grandma. Rosemary Dyer was a sophisticated lady with a sharp sense of humour, and only one minor drawback.

“Do you think your mum will mind?” she asked. “You know, she’s been so busy lately, my maternal instincts are on high alert.”

“She’s fine. In fact—” Tara dropped her voice conspiratorially. “She’s dating.”

“Oh? Who’s the lucky man?”

“Richard Argent.”

Rosemary raised her perfectly maintained eyebrows. “Really? Well, it’s just like school all over again. She always did have a crush on him.”

“A crush?” Pauline bustled into the hall, a work folder under one arm and a cup of strong coffee in her hand. “On who?”

“Mr Argent,” said Tara. “I was just telling grandma that you two are Truham’s newest power couple. Well, one of them at least.”

Pauline made a strange noise, something between a scoff and a laugh. “Wow. I suppose it’s an honour to merely be nominated.”

“Who wins the top prize then?” asked Rosemary. “For power couples these days. Is there a lovely young man in your life I’m yet to know about?”

“Um, well,” said Tara awkwardly. “I suppose the award would have to be split three ways, but um… I need to get to school.” She shouldered her bag and hugged her grandma quickly. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Me too,” said Rosemary.

Tara hurried out the door, and wondered for the hundredth time in her life if all the pretence was worth it or if her mum had severely misjudged the situation. Her grandma was so lovely and fun, totally modern in most aspects of life—the supposed homophobia just didn’t seem to fit.

But, Tara considered—as she always ended up doing in the end—it was better to be safe than sorry. It was better to hide for as long as she could before she risked losing her grandma’s respect forever.

✨

Five minutes after Richard arrived at his office that morning, the news arrived from Pauline. “Oh, dear god,” he said down the phone. “Okay, give me a minute.”

But he didn’t even get a second to think before there was a knock on the door, and the woman herself entered. “Hello, Richard. It’s good to see you.”

He tried to morph his face into a look of mild surprise. “Rosemary. Pauline told me you were in town. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I know you must be upset about Hassan’s death. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“That was very thoughtful of you.”

For a long moment, she merely studied him calmly. He realised she wasn’t going to say anything further, and stuttered to keep up the pretence. “Oh, it hasn’t been easy, but Elle and I are getting along just fine.”

Rosemary narrowed her piercing dark eyes. “Something’s going on here in Truham,” she said. “First Hassan turns up dead, now Kathleen is having memory issues…”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Her gaze was so much like her daughter’s—only different enough that Richard never knew exactly what she was thinking. “What are you up to, Richard?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why are you involved with Pauline?”

“I…” He cleared his throat. “Like her.”

“Oh, please,” Rosemary scoffed. “All those years growing up you never even gave her the time of day.”

Richard sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. “Are you really going to hold a grudge for something I did in school?”

“On the contrary. I’m grateful you turned her down back then. You had a habit of using people and then tossing them aside. I won’t let you do that to my daughter—not then and not now.”

“I have a meeting.” Richard found a stack of papers to shuffle. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Please?”

Rosemary’s eyes flashed. “I’m going to find out what you’re up to, Richard. Whatever it takes.”

The door snapped shut behind her. Richard closed his eyes. He needed to breathe.

The elders had always been an annoyance in their lives, right up until they stripped their coven of their powers. Since then, they had kept themselves to themselves as much as they could, only interacting with their own families if any. Most of them had moved away—including Rosemary. And she had always been the one who scared Richard the most. Apparently she still remained that way now, able to freeze him with a single stare.

He couldn’t wait for the end of the day. He needed to talk to Pauline as soon as possible. She was the only link he had to her delightful mother, the only hope he had of making sure she didn’t mess this up for the both of them.

So, at lunch time, Richard sped away from Truham in his car, onto the deserted road which ran through the woods. Pauline was waiting beside her own car when he arrived. He stepped out into the crisp air.

“You sounded upset on the phone,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

“Your mother. She came to see me.”

Pauline raised her eyebrows. “What about?”

“She said she was going to get to the bottom of what’s been happening, and that she won’t stop until she’s figured out what I have to do with it.”

“Nobody knows anything.”

“Sarah does. You almost drowned her for it.”

“Which is why she’s too scared to talk.”

Richard grimaced. “She wasn’t too scared to tell Hassan that you were practising magic. And if she tells Rosemary, then she’ll know that you have a crystal, and then our plan would be over. We need to get rid of her.”

“I can’t just kick her out of town,” said Pauline. “She just got here.”

“I’m not talking about kicking her out.”

Pauline stared. “Richard, we are not killing anyone else—certainly not my mother. Killing Hassan caused enough trouble. What do you want to do, just kill every single elder until there’s none left?”

“Look,” said Richard. “I know how it sounds, but the elders stripped our powers, they diminished us to nothing. They’re the ones standing in our way of moving forward, more than anyone.”

“Alright.” Pauline held out her hands. “Calm down. There are other options.”

“Like what? Using magic to make sure the elders don’t ask questions? That worked so well with Kathleen.”

“It didn’t not work.” Pauline shook her head, exasperated. “I’ll figure out a way to deal with my mother.”

“If she keeps asking questions—”

“I’ll handle it, okay! For now, just stay out of her way.” She turned on her heel and climbed back into her car.

Richard watched her drive away, his head still reeling with all the dangerous possibilities Rosemary Dyer could bring.

✨

Nick tried to convince Charlie to take the day off school, but he refused. As they headed in together, he did seem a little brighter, a little less…

Charlie had been verging on depressed for weeks now—and Nick had known. Yet he hadn’t done anything. He’d let Charlie pretend—like he’d been doing himself—that everything was fine. That had seemed like the only thing either of them could do, and they had been so deep in that siren’s embrace for so long they’d forgotten the truth.

As they sat down in form, Nick supposed he was still doing it—still pushing it all down. He hadn’t allowed himself time to think about David, and what his betrayal meant. There was only so many times he could turn everything over in his head, and have the outcome be the same. What was done was done, and now they had to live with the consequences. It was better to focus on things he could actually do— like looking after Kathleen—like looking after Charlie.

All day at school, Nick itched to start researching, to find some kind of solid information. Finally, at break time, he managed a quick Google—but the results were lacklustre, contradictory, and mostly fictional.

With a sigh, Nick looked at the boy sitting beside him; the one who’d been sleepy and quiet all day, the one who had woken up screaming last night, the one who was ready to… to end his own life before he ever hurt anyone else.

Nick couldn’t picture those hands ever causing harm, couldn’t imagine that brilliant brain turning to violence. But if anyone had the right to lash out at the world it was Charlie Spring. And Nick would never, ever hold it against him.

Even if he was the last person standing.

Since everyone had free periods that afternoon, the coven met up in town to eat together, then headed to the cottage for Darcy’s new solo magic research club. Tao, Elle and Isaac seemed the most interested, listening to Darcy chatter on all the way to the edge of the woods.

Though she seemed unsure, Tara remained by their side—mostly to make sure they didn’t get into too many shenanigans.

Meanwhile, Nick and Charlie trudged along at the back of the group, unwilling to break their promise to not tell anyone what they knew about the crystals. And now, what they knew about Charlie’s specific brand of solo magic.

Nick jumped down from the style after Isaac, then turned to wait for Charlie. But Charlie had stopped halfway over. His face was lifted skywards, eyes closed, the cold breeze lifting his hair as he took several steadying breaths.

“You okay?”

“Mmhm…” He braced his hands more firmly on the fence, then stepped the rest of the way over. “I just… I feel really… shaky and breathless. I don’t want the others to see.”

“Okay,” said Nick. “That’s okay.” He helped Charlie jump down onto the ground beside him. “Do you need to sit down?”

Charlie took another measured breath and shook his head. “L-let’s just get to the cottage.” He looked down at their hands, still clasped together—and flinched. Charlie retracted his at once. “Sorry.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and strode off after the others, head bowed.

Nick stood there, stunned as he watched him walk away, the weight of the world on those narrow shoulders.

“Come on you two!” came Darcy’s shout. “Stop canoodling and hurry up!”

Nick jogged after Charlie, and fell into step beside him. He could almost feel the turmoil in Charlie’s head, how terrified he had become of himself, of losing control. Nick knew a hug or even a comforting hand to hold wasn’t what he wanted right now, but that didn’t stop it feeling wrong. They were a touchy-feely couple, they had been from the very beginning.

For the first time since they’d got together, they walked the entire way through the woods to the cottage without even their pinky fingers touching. Nick made sure to keep a close eye on him at least—in case the wobbly feeling grew into something worse. He didn’t think Charlie would mind physical contact if it prevented him from toppling over onto the damp earth.

Fuck David for leaving them with this bombshell, Nick thought as they approached the cottage. Charlie would never hurt anyone. But then what about Hazel and Isaac and James? All of them good people who had hurt others when control had been taken from them.

That had been possession. Charlie was not possessed.

He just had some super special magic none of them understood.

Yet.

Inside, Darcy directed the others to grab a book and search for ways of regaining solo magic. Everyone sank onto sofas and chairs to read, coats and bags discarded at their feet.

Without looking, Charlie grabbed a book, then curled up on the sofa, his head on the arm, eyes closed, not even pretending to read.

Nick hoped he was feeling better, and that the others would leave him be to nap. None of them seemed to take issue—they were all too wrapped up in their task.

Nick sat on a beanbag chair and looked through the pile of books across the coffee table. He quickly found the one he wanted—the one he recognised by its black cover, which Tara had shown him all those weeks ago. He extracted it from the pile, and sat back to study it.

The cover was old and worn, the title long faded with time. Trying to remain as casual as he could, Nick flipped through the pages at random.

Each one was as horrific as the last. 

Possession, necromancy, love magic, demonic rituals…

The illustrations were the worst part, though some of the descriptions were just as bad.

But the more he read, the more he came to the conclusion that the book had been written as nothing but a warning. A warning to non-dark witches about what dark magic could do. There was nothing in there explaining how dark magic might affect the witch doing the magic. In fact, the prose skewed heavily in the direction that dark magic was bad, and that any witch caught doing it deserved to suffer the consequences. A dark witch’s pain was not a valid topic for this author, apparently.

Nick scanned the instructions for a love magic spell which caused the victim’s romantic love to manifest as pain, escalating horrifically until they died. Used for revenge purposes , the book stated.

He had to look away.

Breathe, he told himself. This was not the end of the world. He couldn’t let it be. He just wasn’t looking in the right place…

“Hey, Darcy,” said Elle quietly as she reached into her school bag and took out a folded slip of paper. “I just remembered this.”

Darcy took the offered piece of parchment paper and scanned it quickly. Their eyes widened.

“It says it’s meant to help release untapped power,” Elle explained. “I—” She glanced at Charlie—he was still all but asleep—then at Nick, who was staring into space, apparently lost in some deep, dark thoughts. “I found it ages ago. I forgot I had it to be honest but…”

“Yes!” Darcy exclaimed. “This is exactly what we need! Good job, Elle!”

Isaac looked at the paper over Darcy’s shoulder. “But this… this doesn’t look like anything we’ve ever tried before.”

Tara plucked the paper from Darcy’s hands and read it over herself. “That’s because this is voodoo—a whole other kind of magic we don’t practice.”

“Well, maybe that’s what we need,” said Darcy. “A witch who specialises in voodoo. I’m gonna Google it!” They threw their own book aside and took out their phone.

Tara closed the book she’d been absently flicking through and rested her head on the arm of the sofa, mirroring Charlie. She wished she could fall asleep so easily, but her mind was too full. From the new angle, she caught a glimpse of the book Nick had open in his lap—and she sat back up again at once.

“Nick, be careful with that book. We shouldn’t try anything in there. That’s some super dark stuff.”

Tao glanced over and blanched. “I looked at that book once and it gave me nightmares.”

Nick blinked up at them, still half in his thoughts.

“We can’t leave any stone unturned,” said Darcy, typing away on their phone. “It doesn’t matter where it comes from.”

“But dark magic, though, Darce,” said Tara. “I’ve looked through that book and it’s horrible, evil .”

“It’s not evil,” said Nick. He swallowed and glanced across at Charlie. He had opened his eyes but they remained tired and distant. “I mean—it might not be. It’s just… different.”

“Nick!” Tara exclaimed. “This is not something to be all empathetic about—not when you’re reading about—” She peered down at the page he had landed on. “—demonic rituals.”

He closed his eyes, and took a breath. The sickly feeling in his stomach, in his heart, must have been written clear across his face because then Tara lowered her voice in concern. “Nick? What’s going on?”

Charlie got suddenly to his feet and flitted quickly to the other side of the room. He leaned against the table, his shoulders tense as he studied the notice board.

Tara frowned at Charlie, then at Nick, then back again. “Something’s going on, isn’t it? With Charlie. Is he… is he sick?”

“No! No, he’s…”

A small tinkling crash.

Nick shot up and cast the black book aside. “Hey, Char, are you alright?” He swept over to the notice board. A small mortar lay cracked by Charlie’s feet.

“S-sorry…” Charlie bent to scoop up the shards, but his hands were shaking too hard.

“Don’t worry about that.” Nick reached for Charlie’s hands and ushered him upright again. “Your hands—they’re freezing.”

Charlie couldn’t seem to look him in the eye. His breaths began to come out hard and fast, as if he’d been running for miles.

Instinctively, Nick moved to put an arm around him. “I think we should head home—”

“Don’t touch me!”

Charlie wrenched his hands free, and shoved at Nick’s chest.

The impact knocked the breath from Nick’s lungs and his feet from under him. He flew backwards—he flung out his hands to catch himself—before he landed hard on the wooden floorboards.

Charlie stood there, rooted to the spot, his arms still extended as their fellow covenmates stared on in horror.

Nick opened his mouth, to reassure, to comfort—and choked. There was something in his throat. It was getting larger, blocking his airways, and then he suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“Nick?”

Charlie’s voice reached him as if he were underwater. There was a muffled scuffle of movement and the others rushed to Nick’s side. He fell onto his hands and knees as he coughed and gasped through the tiny amount of space left in his throat.

“No…” Charlie cried. “No no no no! Nick! I didn’t mean to— Nick!”

Tara and Isaac dropped down on either side of him as he continued to choke. Red blossomed at his lips and dripped down his chin.

“What did you do?” Tara demanded.

Charlie stumbled back against the far wall, and clamped his hands over his mouth. But it wasn’t enough to stifle his sobs. “Nick! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, stop it—I can’t stop it!”

Tara grasped Nick’s shoulder. “Isaac!” she shouted.

Isaac grabbed her outstretched hand, and knew what had to be done. The two of them closed their eyes, and focused their magic upon Nick, on clearing his throat. Let him breathe, she pleaded.

Nick slumped forward, but Tara clung on—she dared not open her eyes—not until she was certain the spell had been broken. Isaac’s hand was like a vice around her own, and she wished Darcy would add their magic to the mix—it always felt better that way. But then—

Nick let out another choking cough, and Tara felt the darkness blocking his throat vanish. She opened her eyes. She let her hands drop.

Charlie had sank against the wall, chalk white and glassy-eyed. “Nick…?”

Isaac grasped Nick by the shoulders and rolled him over onto his back. His chin and front were shiny with blood, his cheeks almost as pale as Charlie’s.

He woke suddenly with a gasp. His shoulders heaved as he battled to refill his lungs. 

Tara glanced around for Darcy, who was standing nearby with Tao and Elle, stunned. She went to them, and let them pull her into a hug.

Isaac sat back on the floor and let out a breath. “Fuck.”

“That about sums it up,” said Darcy, their voice wavering. “Charlie, what the fuck was that? Why would you—?”

“It’s not h-his fault,” Nick stammered. He swiped his sleeve across his chin and staggered onto his knees. “Charlie, it’s okay, I—”

He had turned to address the far wall, the bricks and the crumbling plaster.

Charlie was gone.

None of them moved to go after him.

Nick needed to go after him.

He took another few deep breaths, testing the stability of his lungs, then pushed himself onto his feet.

Isaac reached out to help steady him.

“Thanks, Isaac.” Nick stepped around him, towards the door.

But Darcy blocked his path, pulling Tara with them. “No.” They folded their arms. “You are going to stay here and tell us what the fuck just happened.”

“Move out of my way!” Nick cried. “Charlie needs me.”

“He just almost killed you.”

“He didn’t. He wouldn’t.”

“We know,” said Tara. “We know, okay? But… he did.”

Cautiously, Tara took Nick by the shoulders, and he had no choice other than to let her lead him into a chair. She knelt before him and took his hands in her own. Her gaze was calm but direct. “Is there a chance Charlie is possessed?”

“Holy shit,” said Tao. “Please don’t say he is. I can’t—we can’t go through that again.”

“No,” said Nick. “He’s… He told me not to tell you!”

“I think we’re a bit beyond that now,” said Elle. “What if he does something like this again? We need to be prepared.”

“D-don’t talk about him like that.” Anger curdled inside his bruised heart. “Like he’s some kind of… monster and not your friend. Not Charlie .”

He couldn’t stand the way they were all looking at him. So scared because of his Charlie, the best person in the world.

Nick took a deep breath and gripped Tara’s hands as an extra anchor. “The solo magic Charlie has been doing,” he explained. “It’s… it’s dark magic, okay? It comes from his mum’s bloodline. It’s dangerous and it’s difficult to control. David told him about it before he left. Apparently it’s in our family’s grimoire. He said all of the Waterhouses ended up overtaken and hurt a lot of people, and Charlie’s been so scared that… that…”

Tara sank onto the floor. “That it’ll happen to him.”

Tears prickled in Nick’s eyes. “He’s good. He’s so good. And I shouldn’t even be telling you any of this!” He dropped Tara’s hands and got to his feet. “I need to find him. He shouldn’t be alone, he—”

“I’m coming with you.” Tara scrambled after him, and shouldered her school bag.

“We should all go,” said Tao.

“No,” said Nick and Tara at the same time. 

Tara tried for a sympathetic smile. “We don’t want to overwhelm him with everyone. Why don’t you all stay here and look into that voodoo thing some more?”

Darcy nodded. “Okay.” They kissed Tara quickly, and Nick led the way, finally, after Charlie.