Disclaimer: I don't own the Worst Witch.
A/N: Thank you for all the reviews so far :)
Not quite sure when what will probably be the final chapter will be up as I haven't written it yet, and go back to Uni next week. And living up to the nickname I've given them, my uni has yet to send out the timetable for the new semester: S
Teeny bit worried about this chapter but here we go …
Russian Roulette
Chapter 3
Not a sound could be heard except from the ticking of the clocks as the two witches stared each other out; both gazes filled with a burning fire which danced within. The wind outside blew, a gentle breeze causing the trees surrounding the building to sway and their branches to rattle against the windows. The storm outside may have died away to nothing but inside the run down building, it was only just beginning.
"Well well well" Heckitty began in her brisk tones as she approached Constance; her worn out heels clicking against the stone floor with every step she took. It was a sound which had always chilled Constance to the core, one which still invaded her-not altogether suppressed-memories. It had always meant one thing: Heckitty was nearing her, and she had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.
She tried to push that thought to the deepest corners of her mind; now was not the time to dwell on it, although she noted how the hairs on the back of her neck stood up when under the presence of the older witch. "I wondered how long it would take you to finally come" she made sure to emphasis the word 'finally', knowing how it would get to Constance. 'Finally' was a word she had used often; telling Constance when she had 'finally' done something right. It linked with failure, something which she had called Constance many times over the years she was under her tutelage. She knew Constance was a proud woman, and she knew that to be associated with failure would hurt her pride.
Knowing she was trying to goad her and refusing to rise to the bait Constance mentally counted to ten before replying, her glance never breaking from the demonic eyes which stared back at her.
"This ends here, and it ends now."
"As you wish dear" Heckitty's eyes flashed for a moment, the spark of pure evil rearing its head.
Raising their casting fingers the stage was set as the two witches prepared to battle it out; to duel, for the ultimate prize. It was here, it was now and there could only be one winner. Though old Heckitty Broomhead was remarkably quick for her age and a split second before Constance did, she fired a red bolt of energy straight at her, showing no mercy as she did so. Managing to dive out of the way and narrowly avoiding being hit by it, Constance countered the attack by sending a bolt of purple energy in her direction.
Two lots of magic filled the air around them as they fought: one tainted and one pure. They were both perfectly matched. One would send a curse; the other would stop it and counter it, sending it back on her adversary. They were both incredibly powerful and both equally determined. The bolts of energy smashed into each other, creating a mesmerising pattern. Both were tiring and neither was winning, but neither was prepared to give in. Too much was at stake.
It was not an easy task, the pained expression on her face said as much; her aching limbs told the story. Increasing the intensity of her spell she managed to pierce through Heckitty's magic shield; the force of Constance's spell hit her and forced her to stagger back slightly as she collided with the stair banister, the wood slamming into her, winding her a little. She roared with fury, gripping one of the banisters with one hand, she concentrated all her efforts on Constance before sending an energy bolt straight at her with such a speed that Constance didn't have the time or the chance to move to avoid it.
It hit her in the abdomen, she doubled over in pain as the agony seared through her; she felt like it was on fire. Taking a deep breath she gathered every ounce of willpower she could muster to put the pain aside and focus, but was thrown from her train of thought when she was sent crashing unforgivably onto the stone floor after Heckitty, who decided to take advantage of her momentary lapse of concentration, booted her hard in the back of her leg, causing her to lose her balance and sending her sprawling into her current position. She had tried to hold on but after a few minutes her arms had given way and crumbled like pillars of sand, she hit the floor face first.
Walking over to her and circling her former protégée Heckitty placed her heel on Constance's wrist and pressed down hard, twisting her foot as she did so and relishing the sweet symphony of her former protégées scream as it echoed through the halls of the building, just like it had done all those years ago. Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to fall, she tried to hold them back but a solitary tear fell from its barricade as it trickled down her face, stinging slightly as it made contact with the cut on her cheek. Inside she cursed herself. In Heckitty's eyes, crying was the ultimate admittance of weakness.
Her lips curling into a cruel smile of satisfaction, she couldn't resist taunting Constance for showing the chink in her armour "There there" she cooed maliciously as she bent down to stroke her tears.
Constance didn't say anything; she had vowed not to be defeated by her, and certainly not like this.
Seizing her chance she grabbed Heckitty's wrist with her own undamaged one and began to twist it; Heckitty gasped as she felt the bone snap and momentarily dizziness wash over her. Throwing her leg out she managed to trip Heckitty up and sent her crashing onto the floor. The two witches continued to struggle: both fighting; one for control and the other for freedom.
Like a ravenous wolf Heckitty loomed over her; pinning her to the floor, her grip, strong and vicelike. The moon illuminated, bouncing off the silver blade of the knife in Heckitty's hand. Her eyes glistening like the blade. She brought it to Constance's throat. Constance swallowed, her throat dry like a sandy desert.
"Any last words Constance?" she asked as she traced Constance's collarbone with the blade, pressing in deeper with each passing moment, it would only be minutes before she would plunge the blade into her throat: killing her, and winning.
Constance couldn't answer, she was paralysed with fear. She saw her life flash before her: her rare and distant memories of a happy childhood; when she had played outside in the sun without a care in the world, when she had snuggled up with her Mother listening to her as she read her a fairytale, when she had twirled about her bedroom, happy and free.
Then it had all changed.
Lightning shook the sky; the sun disappeared, never to be seen again, as Heckitty Broomhead turned up on her parent's doorstep. She saw the flames as they had tore through her childhood home; destroying everything, killing her parents; leaving her all alone at the hands of a monster. She saw the slaps and the magical onslaughts as Heckitty had pushed a young girl to the brink, she saw herself change throughout the years from that young girl as she was moulded into a carbon copy Ice Queen.
She saw Cackle's Academy.
She felt the blade tip towards her throat. The pressure was increasing. Was this how it was to end? Would she never see the sunrise again? It was one of the only luxuries she permitted herself: she would sit at the window every day watching as the sun rose; the myriad of colours merging into one: oranges, reds, yellows. The sunrise: the symbol of a new day, and of renewed hope.
She remembered the hope she had felt when she had finally escaped from Witch Training College and the clutches of her evil tutor, when she had found her sanctuary at Cackle's Academy: it was the only place she had ever felt at home, dare she say, it was the only place she had ever felt happy.
Nothing made her feel more alive than when she was teaching; imparting knowledge into the young minds of her students, teaching them of the craft; her eyes sparkled intently when she spoke of magic, it tingled all her senses, it was her true pride and joy, to help them become the best witches that they could be.
Her colleagues; were like her extended family: Amelia, Davina and Imogen. She didn't always see eye to eye with them over certain issues, but she cared for them deeply, and would fight till the death to protect them. She pictured the Academy; her students; and her colleagues in her mind and inwardly smiled: she was doing this for them.
The knife was still hovering dangerously close to her throat, Heckitty was taunting her; enjoying having the control and power of making her sweat, savouring the knowledge that it was fully up to her when she plunged the blade into her throat, when she ended her life, the life she had always been in control of. Constance knew she had to be very careful how she went about doing this; one wrong move, and that would be it.
Catching Heckitty off guard she managed to free her arm from beneath her former tutor's weight and reached up to grab the knife but Heckitty held on fast, trying to twist it round to plunge it into Constance's heart, Constance battled with her for control of the knife; it twisted left and then right, and then left again, until she managed to grasp it with the edge of her fingers, it slipped out of her grasp and skated across the floor, hitting off the edge of the wall with a clunk.
Their eyes collided again, locking for a split second as they ran to be the first to the knife. Constance got to it first and picked it up trying to ignore the shaking in her hand; she wasn't sure if it was anger or terror, wrestling Heckitty to the ground she held the blade over her but she couldn't do it.
Her conscience fought against her: one half telling her to go ahead and do it. Kill the Bitch who had ruined so much of her life; who had haunted her most of her days, and the other side, trying to reason with her; telling her not to become like her former tutor, not to give her the satisfaction. The knife hovered in her hand. She was torn; she didn't know what to do.
Heckitty, seeing she was confused, tried to goad her into it, to mess with her mind even further. "Go on. Do it" The snakelike eyes staring right into her soul.
Constance lowered the blade "I don't dance to your tune anymore" she whispered, Heckitty's eyes flashed malice as she grabbed for her wrist, Constance cried out and the struggle continued.
Their grip slackened...
... and the knife fell.
Every second slowed down, as time seemed to stop completely.
They both watched, frozen to the spot, unable to react as the knife plummeted downwards.
Closer...
Closer...
Closer...
Silence.
Then a scream pierced the air...
