Note: Ok, again, this is a slightly slower chapter. I kinda need it logistically so as to be able to get back into the action proper next chapter! So, call this a kind of in-betweeny chapter...

Inferno

Seven

Amelia was speechless. She was beyond speechless; more than losing the ability to speak, it was as if she had never learned such basic skill in the first place. She stared at the flickering silver names on the wall as if they weren't there, expecting them to change at any moment, all an awful joke on Agatha's part.

Surprisingly, it was Imogen who was the first to speak.

"Well," she said quietly. "That's something you don't see every day."

"Egbert?" Algernon ventured. "Egbert, are you alright? You look as if you're about to faint."

Amelia turned to view the Chief Wizard. He did indeed look rather ill, the lines on his ghost-white face showing even deeper, making him appear older than he was.

"I think adjourning to the staffroom would be a good idea," said Constance behind them. Her voice was shaking with suppressed rage, and Amelia could tell that she was speaking through firmly clenched teeth.

"I agree," said Amelia, finally regaining the power of communication. "Girls, you could probably do with some breakfast. If you would all like to go down to the kitchens, I'm sure Mrs Tapioca will make some nice hot porridge."

The idea of porridge was met with mixed reactions from the girls, but they obediently filed out of the library none-the-less. Amelia watched Ethel closely. She was the last to leave, moving in a trance-like state as Drusilla guided her towards the door. She turned back briefly before exiting, looking the Chief Wizard up and down, and Amelia could see the emotions fighting behind her eyes. The poor girl couldn't decide what to feel: anger, amazement, disgust... Drusilla tugged her elbow and they left the room, closing the door inaudibly behind them.

"Right," said Imogen decidedly. "Staffroom."

The journey was not a long one, their destination just down the corridor, but Amelia felt that every step was taking a lifetime.

"What on Earth is the matter Amelia?" asked Davina, getting up from her armchair as the others entered. She had been the only one who had not accompanied them on their excursion to view the Heritage, having stayed behind to tidy up the tea things. She looked pleasantly expectant, but the hint of anticipation in her eyes waned on seeing Amelia's grave face. "Did you not find one then?"

"Oh, we found one," said Imogen. "It's just..."

Before she could reply, the final member of the adult contingent had entered the staffroom and slammed the door shut with such ferocity that it bounced open again and hit the wall, causing the ornaments on the mantle to shake.

"AND YOU DIDN'T THINK TO MENTION THIS BEFORE?" roared Constance, coming to stand inches away from Hellibore. It occurred to Amelia that Constance was a good two inches taller than the wizard, but she pushed that thought away quickly, scolding her mind for losing concentration at such an important time. Her stare was unforgiving, and the Chief Wizard seemed to shrink visibly under it. Amelia knew that Constance was a formidable soul, but screaming point blank at Egbert Hellibore was new even for her.

"You must understand," said Hellibore weakly, avoiding Constance's eyes. "I had no idea... When Isabella and I parted, I didn't know that I was... that we were... that she was..."

"Up the duff?" asked a pleasant voice from the open door. The occupants of the room turned to see Enid standing in the frame, peering into the melee.

"I wasn't going to put it quite like that," said the wizard, "but it works as a description."

"ENID NIGHTSHADE!" Constance's already thin temper was becoming visibly more frayed, but instead of continuing in her vein, she stopped and seemed to sag a little. "Well, I suppose I did leave the door open. What is it?"

"Mrs Tapioca wants to know if you want any breakfast sending up," Enid asked sweetly.

"I..." Amelia's stomach answered for her. With the Shield in place she couldn't gauge time from the light outside, but even without looking at the clock, she surmised that they had been staring at the Heritage in the library for a lot longer than any of them realised. "Yes Enid, that would be very kind of her."

Enid nodded and left, pointedly closing the door behind her. Constance gave up completely, sinking into the nearest chair, rubbing her casting fingers. Although outwardly unharmed, they were obviously still causing her pain. Egbert, the only one left standing by this point, followed suite, and an uncomfortable silence enveloped the group.

"You had no idea that you had fathered a Liaison?" said Algernon. He was gazing at his long-time friend with mixed amazement and incredulity. "The things you miss when you're a frog," he muttered. "Your best friend has an illegitimate child he didn't know about who might just save the world. Eating flies, pottering about on lily pads and avoiding being eaten by the many cats of the establishment really is tame in comparison."

Imogen gave a snort of laughter at this remark but quickly disguised it as a cough when Constance turned her glare in the direction of the PE teacher.

"So..." Davina began, testing the waters nervously and eyeing the stationery cupboard with trepidation. "You did find a Liaison."

"Yes Davina," said Amelia wearily. "By some miracle, we have found a living Liaison."

"Well, shouldn't we be trying to find her?" asked Davina. "She may have the power to defeat the Devil, but it won't be much use if she doesn't know that we need her help."

Amelia sighed and closed her eyes, Davina's simple statement providing both a blessing and a curse. She had reminded them, using her own unique brand of common-sense, that they really ought to be finding this young woman and not sitting in the staffroom casting accusatory glances at her father. On the other hand though, where was she going to be found? Egbert was hardly going to know, and whilst Isabella might have had more indication as to her daughter's whereabouts, she had died fifteen years previous. In short, there was no-one who could give them the slightest indication of where their saving grace might be.

Still, thought Amelia bravely, there had to be a way out. They had overcome so many problems already by finding solutions right under their noses: they had found the third option that Agatha had implicitly allowed them. They had found the concept that could save them. They had found the name of the embodiment of that concept. They just needed to find the woman herself, and Amelia was sure that they could do it. If only they knew where to start.

"Amelia?" Davina's voice pulled Amelia forcibly from her thoughts.

"Sorry?"

"I was asking who the Liaison is."

"Her name is Della Louisa Spinder," Constance answered.

"Della?" Davina's face lit up with a wide smile. "Della Spinder? No!" Her voice was incredulous, and she shook her head violently, retreating backwards from the group towards the cupboard unconsciously.

"Do you know this witch?" asked Algernon, trying to mask his giddiness. Davina didn't reply, still shaking her head in disbelief.

"Davina!" said Amelia sharply, checking her own eagerness. She had known that they would find a way out of their latest conundrum, and it had just presented itself. "Do you know Miss Spinder?"

"Of course I do," murmured Davina, sitting back down in her chair. "She runs the little bookshop in town, Spinder's. I buy sheet music from her all the time. She's a lovely girl, makes wonderful chocolate fudge cake. But a Liaison..." Her eyes turned on Amelia, pleading in their depths. "She's not a witch, Amelia. I swear, I've never noticed anything out of the ordinary about her."

"Yes, well," said Constance, a faint note of disapproval colouring her voice. "I think we have already firmly established that you are not the most observant of people, Davina. Spinder's is a shop specialising in works on Occult and witchcraft!"

"But her parents, well, her mother, she certainly isn't a witch," protested Davina, paying no attention to Constance's thinly veiled criticism. Amelia wondered if she had heard it at all.

"She's adopted, Davina," said Imogen gently. "Her real mother was Isabella Hallow."

"Hallow!" squeaked Davina. "Well, it does explain the nose," she added wistfully. "Isabella Hallow? But she never married..." Her wandering gaze came to rest on Hellibore and she remembered the scene that had occurred on her colleagues' return to the staffroom. "Ah. I see."

"We have to get in touch with her," said Amelia. "The problem is how, when we're trapped under the Shield."

"Well we've got a couple of hours to think of that," said Davina airily. "The shop won't be open yet."

Amelia looked at the clock. It had just past seven. Had it really been that long since Agatha had made her terrible announcement? She could not believe that six hours had been spent since they had evacuated three quarters of the student body; it seemed like only a few minutes. If time was going to go so quickly for the rest of the two days before they met Agatha once more, they were going to have to be very careful how they used it.

"I suggest..." Constance began, but she was cut off by a knock at the door. Mrs Tapioca entered, carrying a steaming cauldron of porridge that she placed in the centre of the table. Mildred followed with bowls and spoons.

"There we are," she said proudly. "Some nice-a hot porridge to help-a you find this dangerous liaison person."

"Just Liaison, Mrs Tapioca," said Amelia with a small smile as she ladled herself some of the thick mixture. "Not dangerous."

The cook sniffed emphatically.

"I don't know, these-a magical types are all-a dangerous if you ask-a me." She cast an uneasy glance at the wizards' staffs, propped up in the corner, and hurried away, muttering. Mildred made to follow her but Amelia called the head-girl back.

"Mildred, how are your classmates?" she asked. Even with the extenuating circumstances they found themselves in, she could not let herself be lost in the chaos of the moment and forget exactly why they had undertaken to find a Liaison, dangerous or not, in the first place: the protection of the girls and their welfare.

"Ethel's having a bit of trouble coming to terms with the realisation that her perfect family has a bit of scandal in it..." Here the Chief Wizard shifted uncomfortably. "...but other than that, I think everyone is coping well..." She tailed off.

"How are you, Mildred?" asked Amelia gently. They were already indebted to Mildred on so many counts for guiding them down this path and giving them cause to hope in the first place, and Amelia knew that it could not have been easy for her to live with the knowledge that she had, in effect, been the only witness to the catalyst of their situation in her nightmare. "Are you coping?"

Mildred nodded a little too enthusiastically, a nod that quickly became the opposite under her headmistress's eyes.

"Now what do we do, Miss Cackle?" she asked quietly.

"Well, we know who Miss Spinder is, and where to find her," said Amelia brightly. "So, that is going to be our next course of action." She knew it was not the answer that her pupil wanted to hear, but Amelia could not give her that answer. She did not know it herself. Even if they managed to get out from under the Shield, would Agatha be watching? Would she see it as an escape attempt, and how would she extract her revenge? Yet another problem to be overcome. Amelia sighed as Mildred left the room, wishing that she could alleviate the unease that had settled over the group. Her simple, innocent question had raised so many others, ones that could not be so easily waved away or half-answered.

"Well," Constance said, coming over to the table and helping herself to porridge, her efficient self, but still with that edge of tiredness that had pervaded her deputy's actions since she had entered the room. "I think Mildred has raised a valid point. We need a considered and informed plan."

Amelia sat back and let Constance take charge, falling to contemplation. The school had come through so much, her pupils and staff had traversed so many difficulties with increasingly ingenious solutions. If anyone could think of a way around their seemingly impossible problem, it was the forces of Cackle's Academy.

Note2: Ok, I just realised that none of the questions asked at the end of chapter six were answered here... Never mind! The answers are coming in due course. Next time on Inferno: broomsticks, bookshops and bats...

*Kimmeth gets out red felt tip and draws big pretty arrow towards the green review button.*