"Hold still, and keep your eyes closed."
There was a smile in the voice, steady with concentration.
Hecate did as she was told, barely breathing. Her fingertips fluttered against the grainy stone wall behind her. It was dark and dusty in the deserted bell tower, home only to abandoned relics, casting their shadows from shards of moonlight.
Pippa Pentangle was so close that Hecate could breathe in her very exhalations - the sweet, musky perfume she had come to associate with her lingering in the air between them. Ananya, she thought it was called. It was the same scent which made her stomach plummet and her eyes scan her immediate environs whenever it caught her off-guard. Pippa's fingertips, cool like wax, held Hecate's jawline at a soft tilt, and something cold was applied to her lash line with deft precision.
"Just keep them closed a second longer," her gentle tones could settle the most disturbed of demons, Hecate thought. "We don't want any smudges."
Pippa stepped back and Hecate made an involuntary movement to reach her but restraint kicked in, in face-saving time.
There was a ripple of air near her face, and the jangling of jewellery indicated that Pippa was fanning her lashes to aid the drying process.
"There," she breathed. "You can open them now."
Blinking, the vision of Pippa blurred into view, hand on hip and golden syrup smile in place as she admired her handiwork.
"I told you it'd be painless. Look," she grinned and presented a mirror with intricate, hand-painted gold flowers and butterflies. Hecate could hardly bear to look upon her reflection so soon after regarding Pippa's dazzling beauty, which served only to amplify her own flaws. It was like trying to focus after glancing at the sun.
Hecate had never seen makeup on her own face. And concerned as she had been about the prospect of looking like a clown and being banned from the Halloween celebrations, she was pleasantly surprised. Her eyelashes had never seemed particularly long before - but now they were, and there was rather an abundance of them. Pink was hardly her colour, but the splash of fuchsia that Pippa had applied to her lips - together with the line that now swept along the roots of her lashes - gave new dimension to her features.
Hecate blinked at the minor transformation and fumbled for words, but Pippa was already reaching for the mirror.
"You look beautiful," she said, "Goodness, look at the time! Best get ready. Toodle pip!" and with a wink, she snapped her fingers and vanished, leaving a heady Hecate releasing a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding.
xxx
Hecate had scurried along the corridors to her room with her face lowered, sticking to the shadows lest anyone should notice the anomaly of makeup on her face.
She couldn't possibly tell the truth - no one would believe her if she told them Pippa Pentangle of all people had offered to introduce her to the world of cosmetic refinery when she'd caught Hecate watching her applying lipliner in the bathroom mirror. Not the studious, solitary Hecate Hardbroom, who spent more time in the library than the chief librarian and who could recite more spells than three generations of Cackle's knew between them. Popular Pippa would have no interest in her.
Even now, a small voice somewhere in her subconscious advised caution. She recalled that first lingering gaze across the Spells' Science classroom, when Hecate had relayed in detail the weather spell and its occurrences in history, literature, and prospective future uses. Pippa had turned from her seat a couple of rows in front and Hecate had become flustered in the full heat of her gaze and her throat was tight and sticky, and for the first time ever in class she had almost faltered under unbearable scrutiny. Finally their form mistress had concluded her pointed questioning, and Hecate had swallowed and pretended Pippa had stopped watching her. But her peripheral vision told her otherwise, and soon their eyes locked and Hecate silently implored her to cease the torment. But a smile had tugged at the corner of Pippa's lips and her gaze sparkled as if entertaining a thought which hadn't occurred to her before.
Hecate, now in her lamplit bedroom, eased her way into the confines of her best dress and robes. She cursed her mind, the torturous labyrinth of over-analysis. No amount of concocted scenarios or explicit fantasies could detract from the notion that she was a mere experiment to Pippa. The girls who thought beauty was an achievement, who made half the effort because all who gazed upon their pretty faces were sufficiently charmed; the ones who insisted a blank canvas like Hecate's required "making over" - they were the sort of girls with whom Pippa whiled away her evenings in the common room.
She knelt to wind her laces around her boot hooks as quick knuckles rapped on the door. She didn't answer. She didn't even raise her head. Par for the course, there followed the familiar mocking giggles and insults as the culprits skipped away along the corridor and she sank back against her bed, imagining Pippa beside her with an arm around her waist and her pretty blonde head on her shoulder.
xxx
Being taller than the other girls had its benefits. She was head and shoulders above all of them, and aside from their excitable shrills she could pretend they didn't exist, keeping her eyes on the indigo sky and breathing in the delicious smoky air of the bonfire as it cracked and shot out mini sparks. The cool evening breeze brushed her cheek, and as her eyes deciphered the constellations she felt the new sensation of mascara'd lashes against the flesh beneath her brow.
A sudden burst of laughter alerted her to Pippa and her usual hangers-on at the front, shoving each other in a shared joke. Hecate watched her, unnoticed in the uniformed masses. As usual their excitement got the better of them - a teacher hissed in their direction and they slunk into sheepish silence.
The Latin antiphon which launched proceedings every year was recited in unison by the crowd, and the fireworks commenced to gasps of delight. Hecate watched the electric bloom of colours and patterns against the inky backdrop. There was something intrinsically magical about fireworks. Non-magicians's just didn't realise the sorcery of pyrotechnics. Euphoria flourished within her, roused by the power of the sky fires. The explosions that followed a split second after each light show lifted her spirits... but with her surging elation came an equalising slump. She cast her eyes about the crowd. Every other girl, every staff member, had someone to share this with. She could pretend she didn't care most of the time - in fact she had rather perfected the art. But every year, the grandeur and festivity of Halloween seemed to magnify her loneliness.
A lump swelled in her throat, and the first tears stung her eyes.
Fingers slid around her forearm and down her wrist, slipping into her palm so that they laced with Hecate's. It happened so quickly that she barely had time to react, but she rounded upon her intruder ready to deliver her wrath.
Stunned, she was greeted by the glowing, smiling face of Pippa Pentangle peering up at her beneath the rim of her best silk hat; but the smile faded and was replaced by the most genuine expression of concern Hecate had ever seen.
"What on earth's the matter, Hecate?" she asked, "You look like you're going to cry."
The fireworks continued their whizzing and booming above.
Hecate softened and squeezed the warm hand that had nestled in her own, lest it should try to get away when she didn't find a quick response. The pathos in Pippa's eyes was out of place amid the festivities, but as Hecate summoned a smile, Pippa's beam returned.
"Come on," she turned into the crowd and tugged Hecate's hand.
"But we can't-"
"Come on. I've got something for us!"
xxx
Pushing through the last rows of pupils, Hecate lowered her head as well she could so as not to lose her hat. They narrowly avoided the staff, scattered at regular intervals on the gathering's periphery; but preoccupied with the fireworks and tiddly on staff punch, they didn't notice the two fifth years scurrying across the yard and ducking into the doorway at the foot of the bell tower.
Hecate closed the door behind her, heart pounding, sickening thoughts of expulsion at odds with the sheer electricity of being alone twice in one night with Pippa Pentangle, whose breathy laughter rang around the spiral stairway as she sprang up the steps. Rebellion went utterly against her grain; but Hecate grabbed her skirts and followed, fingers tracing the wall, her eyes widened by darkness. The staircase was dizzying and eternal - she could lose her footing at any moment and plummet to her death; but she'd go down in school history as the girl who died chasing her dream up the bell tower, and the thought of that thrilled her. She'd found a new, raw exhilaration in not using magic, which, whilst convenient, took the challenge out of so many things, and a thought occurred to her as she took the steps two at a time - that in future whenever a non-mage lamented their lack of magic, she would assure them how much more interesting life could be without it.
The girls emerged onto the boarded platform at the top of the bell tower, staggering, chests heaving, throats aching from the inhaled daggers of freezing air. Hecate brushed the dust from her robe and Pippa was bent over, hands on her knees as she deep-breathed her way back to composure. When their eyes met they exchanged giddy laughter. A glance at the rear wall reminded Hecate of earlier in the evening, when all that had been between the two young witches were thin fabric layers. If only she could have had some way of foreseeing that they would return this very night, she would have been livid with joy and savoured every anticipatory second.
She glanced down as something glittered in the light of the moon, and saw that Pippa was waving a champagne bottle that had been concealed in her cloak. Hecate's mouth dropped open.
"I got it from the kitchens. Now," Pippa scanned the dusty depths and with a satisfied murmur darted towards an ottoman, lurking under a shuttered window. She tugged it until it budged and scraped across the floorboards to the middle of the room where the moon shone a silver spotlight, and with a swift puff she sent a plume of dust into the air, swiping at the remainder with her palm. She perched on a corner of the ottoman and fanned out the silk of her cloak, patting it for Hecate to sit beside her.
"Now, lets see if I can do this," her eyes traced the ceiling's vaulted beams and she muttered an incantation, and with a flick of her wrist two inelegant glass tankards appeared on the floor next to the bottle.
"Oh, damn!" she said in her tinkling voice, dropping her hands in her lap. "They were supposed to be champagne flutes! Never mind darling, we'll fit more in these."
Hecate was motionless as she watched Pippa peel the gold from the neck of the bottle and untwist the wire cage around the cork. No one had ever called her darling before…
A baritone pop echoed around the tower and as Pippa poured, bubbles billowed in the glasses and cascaded over and down the sides.
"Oops!" Pippa pursed her lips to hoover them up, though they were already leaving speedy, bubbly trails down her dress, making darker shades of purple in the silk. "I think Aunty Phyllis said you're supposed to tilt the glass… Anyway. Chin chin!"
The fizz tickled Hecate's nose and the alcohol warmed her blood in an alarming instant. She didn't much like the taste of it but she knew that the flavour of champagne would forever remind her of this night. Pippa was drinking hers with the proficiency of someone to whom the taste was not new, much quicker than Hecate was able to drink hers, and she had finished her first tankard and set it on the floor at her feet.
"Do you think I'm a bad influence?" She shot her a conspiratorial glance from under her lashes.
"I think… well, I've certainly never done anything like this before."
Pippa laughed.
"That's no answer. What do you think of me? Really."
Hecate watched the blustering tornado of bubbles in her glass.
"I think you're the most fun I've ever had."
Pippa beamed, tilting her head.
"I'm so glad you're here," she reached out and gave Hecate's knee a brief squeeze. The unexpected gesture had caught Hecate mid-sip, causing her to take rather a large swig. She recovered herself and cleared her throat.
"Why me?" she said.
"What?"
"Why me?"
"Because… I don't know. Because… you fascinate me."
Hecate's dress seemed to tighten across her chest.
"You're a true intellectual, Hecate. A rare thing around here."
"I haven't mastered the transference spell yet," Hecate offered. "You have."
Pippa smiled.
"And yet I still can't rustle up the right drinking glasses." They both laughed. "Anyway, it's not about mastering the action but understanding the reason and the process," Pippa said, as though quoting some wise advisor. "You know everything there is to know about magic. I love your passion. There's just a glimpse of it, every now and then. I'd like to see it more. But then I suppose it wouldn't be such a treasure."
Hecate recalled the time in Spells Science. Now it made perfect, beautiful sense.
Pippa slid closer, and Hecate's stomach flipped as cool fingers crept over her own.
"I think it would be quite something to spend an evening with you, Hecate Hardbroom."
Hecate swallowed.
"I hardly think your friends would approve."
"Oh, never mind them. They're all shallow as puddles. Anyway," Pippa's brown eyes sparkled around Hecate's face. "I should like to keep you a secret. I'm not very good at sharing my favourite things."
They watched each other for a moment, then Pippa nestled her face into Hecate's neck, and Hecate dared to inhale the light soapy scent of her hair. They sat wordlessly for several minutes, listening to the distant post-firework festivities. From the woods came the sound of chanting, and the occasional smell of alfresco cooking drifted in on the air.
When Pippa raised her head, Hecate saw that she was crying.
"Goodness, I'm sorry!" she gasped, as if surprised at her own tears, "Must be the alcohol."
"Oh, please don't cry," Hesitating, Hecate reached to smooth away the trails which had permeated her makeup. "Have I upset you?"
"No no, of course not." Pippa drew away and swiped the back of her hand beneath her eyes. "I do so wish I was more like you!"
"More like me?"
"Yes! Utterly composed. You don't squawk and guffaw like I do. It's very unbecoming. So says Aunt Phyllis."
"But you laugh a lot," said Hecate. "I'm not sure I know how to. Well, I didn't until tonight. And who is Aunt Phyllis?"
Pippa composed herself and sniffed.
"She's headteacher at another witch academy. She brought me up when my parents abandoned me."
"When they found out you were a witch…" Hecate concluded. It was an unfortunate cliche in their community.
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I've been very lucky, really. Aunt Phyllis has never seen me short of anything. She's very kind. A little eccentric, perhaps. Did the same happen to you?"
Hecate shook her head.
"No, my mother died shortly after I was born, and my father died soon after. Of a broken heart." It felt awkward to say it aloud - like exposing her naked flesh. "I was brought up by a governess."
"Oh? Phyllis knows a few of them. Dreadful tyrants. What was her name?"
"I'd rather forget her, actually." Her reply was stiff, and Pippa responded with watchful, considerate silence, before reaching down to pour the small remainder of champagne into the tankards, turning her gaze to the sky.
"Sounds like we've both had a bit of a funny upbringing. Something those other girls don't understand, cosseted little darlings." She drained her glass, but as she got to her feet she stumbled, and Hecate instinctively rose to catch her. Pippa leant against her and looked up into Hecate's face, the taller girl regarding her with guarded reticence.
"You've got a very intense stare, Hecate Hardbroom. Save it for me…"
Pippa slid a cool hand around the back of Hecate's neck and stood on tiptoe to press their lips together. Hecate swirled with drink and desire and her heart hammered in her chest...
As they parted she felt unsteady on her feet - the room and Pippa swam before her and the last things she remembered were Pippa's alarmed utterances and the feeling of her eyes rolling back in her head.
xxx
The other side of her eyelids flickered into view. Pink. Lots of pink. They closed again. She was on her side, sunken into the glorious luxury of a goose-down duvet. Ananya lingered in the air.
She didn't want to wake up.
Her eyelids flickered again.
There was a blonde head on the bed, arms arranged around it. The head was attached to a body, draped over the side of the bed from its seat on the floor. This array of blonde and silk and flesh belonged to Pippa Pentangle, who slept.
Hecate swallowed and was reminded of the taste of champagne. She tasted it again now, and wanted to vomit.
As she raised her head from the pillow something crashed about inside, like a huge ball ricocheting in a tiny room. There was pain on the outside of her skull, too, and she winced as she prodded the tender area above the nape of her neck.
She murmured like a sorry creature, sitting up and putting her head between her knees.
Sound and movement roused Pippa, who squinted against the crude morning glare. Her previously coiffured hair was dishevelled and her lashes were imprinted like fine spider legs beneath her eyes. Hecate wondered if the same had happened to her own mascara. Another surge of nausea.
"Thank God you're alive,"
"Why is there so much pink in here…" Hecate drawled.
"I thought I'd killed you!"
"I don't remember… how did I get here…"
"I had to use the transference spell," Pippa was getting to her feet, brushing down last night's dress which she was still wearing. "You passed out. You'd not had champagne before, had you? I should have known."
"I feel terrible…"
"You're not going to be sick are you?"
Hecate breathed. She felt hot and disgusting. Pippa's hand rested on her shoulder.
"Hecate? Hecate? Don't be sick here…"
"We didn't even have that much…"
"No, no - it's the transference spell. It was your first time, wasn't it. I was hoping you'd sleep off any ill effects with the hangover…"
"Oh dear God…"
"Hecate! Come on, you can't be sick here!"
Hecate sat bolt upright, her breathing rising in panic with another nauseating surge before…
"Hic…"
Pippa stared with manic alarm in her eyes and fingers that hovered somewhere in midair as if poised to conjure a bucket.
"Hic… hic..."
"Well that's a first. Most people throw up first time."
"Hic…"
Hecate was mortified.
Pippa clapped a hand over her mouth and stifled a laugh.
"You're actually not going to be sick at all, are you?"
"Hic… I… hic… no, I don't… hic… I don't think so."
Pippa let out a riotous laugh.
"Hecate Hiccup! That's what I shall have to call you from now on."
Hecate, despite her embarrassment, managed a feeble smile.
"Our... hic… secret... hic…"
Pippa dropped onto the bed beside her, reaching out and clasping her hand. She had a perpetual, all-consuming affection, even when she saw Hecate at her worst.
"Our secret," she whispered with a smile. "The first of many, I hope."