Note: Tada! Here it is - my quickest update ever. Tis just under eighteen hours. Phew! But, since I knew how anxious you all were... enjoy!
Inferno
Ten
"Who the hell are you?" asked Della, anger winning out over fear in the battle for emotional supremacy.
"I could ask you the same question," said Agatha pleasantly. Mildred did not want to turn and face their nemesis, but she knew that it had to be done. She was standing in the corridor behind them, Mildred's plate of unfinished chocolate cake in one hand.
"She's..." Miss Bat began, drawing herself up to her full height in indignation, but Mildred nudged her to be quiet. Something in the back of her mind told her that it was not a good idea to let their enemy know of Della's potential power, and much less of her lack of it. If Agatha had not surmised that Della was a Liaison, it was best to leave it as an unknown, lest she ask for a demonstration of the mythical magical strength.
"Oh, it really doesn't matter," said Agatha airily, waving the words away with her free hand. "I have no time for pathetic little non-magicians, even if they do make exceedingly good cake. No, I was happily minding my own business when it came to my attention that two witches who were meant to be inside the castle were in fact flying around the town as if nothing was wrong with their world at all. Naturally curious as to why this might be, I followed them here of all places." Agatha looked around the corridor and into the shop beyond with disgust. "I must admit, I was expecting something more of an occult bookshop, but I can see the attraction for people like you. Amelia's efforts were always...lacklustre."
Mildred began to back up towards the shop; the only feasible option she could think of at that moment was to run for it and pray that they could make it back to the broomsticks before anything serious befell them. As long as Agatha was talking, she was fairly harmless. As long as they let her have her speech, they were alright.
"Take that you hag!" screamed Della, running forward, swinging the golf club above her and evidently intending to bring it down on Agatha's head. A wall of fire sprang up around Agatha and Della dropped her weapon as it melted into nothing against the heat. The flames died and Agatha was nowhere to be seen.
"Honestly," she said, from behind them this time, in the shop. Mildred turned to see her perusing a book from the desk. "A golf club? How very human."
The book she was reading burst into flames, and Mildred felt Della stiffen beside her at the maltreatment of one of her precious antiquarian works.
"It's quite simple my dear. If you just stand back and let me take these two escapees back into my care, then no harm will come to you, I promise."
Della snorted her disagreement.
"You don't believe me?" Agatha asked, her voice hurt. "And I tried so hard to be extra-convincing as well. Oh dear. Never mind though. I've no qualms about a little collateral damage in my quest." She clicked her fingers and Mildred felt an unnatural icy wind begin to blow around her, tugging at the ends of her plaits and the hem of her skirt. She could see crystals riming over the faded wall paper of the corridor behind her, and for a brief moment she thought that Agatha was pulling the bookshop down into the ninth circle along with the castle. The wind was visible now, picking up the dust from the boxes and books in the shop and forming a tornado within the room. The volumes on the nearest bookcase were dragged from their shelves and into the whirlwind, pages tearing easily from the spines before flying towards Mildred and Della, battering them and forcing them backwards into the narrow corridor towards the back room. Mildred hit her head against something, and she realised that she could go no further back: they were flat against the wall, still being assaulted by the books.
"Remarkable, isn't it?" she heard Agatha's voice call above the roar of the wind. "They always did say that the pen was mightier than the sword. But, for my purposes, I think the sword may still have an edge."
Mildred couldn't see what was happening through the tornado in front of her, keeping her pinned against the wall. She heard Della give a scream beside her, and then she saw it, the bookbinding knives that had been on the desk next to the cash register, flying through the air towards them like darts towards the bull's eye. Mildred tried to lift her hand to cast a spell, but she was completely frozen, both the force and the temperature rendering her unable to either move or speak. She could see the blades coming towards her, ready to ram home straight between the eyes, when suddenly they disappeared, veering off course, turning back in the direction they came. She heard Agatha give a howl of rage and felt the effects of the whirlwind begin to lessen, allowing her to move once more, and she peered through the last remnants of the destructive gusts in front of her.
A figure was standing in the middle of the hallway, a tall, black-clad figure that would have been ramrod straight had she not been bent over, clutching her fingers.
"Miss Hardbroom!" she cried in equal relief and amazement. The wind had died completely by this point and Mildred could see her teacher clearly, holding the bookbinding knives tightly, a trickle of blood running in thin rivulets down her clenched fist and dripping onto the floor.
"Bloody Foster's," she heard Miss Hardbroom mutter before she stood straight again, just in time to cast a spell to counter the jet of flame that an enraged Agatha had sent her way. Fire and ice soared towards each other, meeting in the middle of the shop with a shower of sparks that danced in the air before disappearing. The beams seemed to be perfectly matched, neither yielding more than a few inches before forcing its way back into dominance. Both witches were completely focussed on their goal, and suddenly Mildred had an idea. She cast a spell for water to put out the flame, praying that what she predicted would occur did, praying that the unpredictable force of nature that was the Foster's Effet wouldn't choose this moment to desert her. There was nothing for a few seconds, and then the almighty roar of running water above them as drips began seeping though the ceiling of the shop. Della looked from the flood pooling over the floor of her livelihood to Mildred, her expression one of horror.
"What are you doing?" she hissed, barely audible above the noise of the water. "You know your spells don't work with me around!"
"I know. That was the point!"
Something else could be heard above the roar of the water and the clashing of the magical elements in the middle of the shop; the sudden downpour was doing nothing to dampen the intense combat taking place. It was voices from upstairs.
"The main water pipe's burst!" "Where's the cut off?" "In the shop in the basement!"
There were heavy footsteps on the steps outside the house, and Agatha noticed the impending presence of at least half a dozen witnesses to their supernatural display. With a roar of anger, flames encircled her and burned brightly for a split second before she disappeared. Miss Hardbroom's posture sagged just as the people from the house above arrived on the scene. Della took this as her cue, effortlessly avoiding the streams as she moved through the shop and opening the door.
"Hi," she said brightly, although there was an unmasked tremor in her voice that Mildred could not fail to notice. "I would have turned it off myself but I don't know where the stopcock is."
A man came into the shop and, after a minute or so of fumbling behind the desk, the noise ceased save for the intermittent drips coming through the ceiling. Mildred let Della take care of the practical aspects of the life that she and Miss Bat had so unexpectedly interrupted and went over to Miss Hardbroom, who was upright once more.
"Are you alright?" she asked quietly. Miss Hardbroom nodded, opening her clenched left hand to reveal the bookbinding knives embedded in her palm.
"I really should be more careful about avoiding injury to my hands," she quipped, irony heavy in her voice. "That was quick thinking on your part, Mildred, using the Foster's to create a distraction. Not even Agatha could continue such a fight with so many potential witnesses." She grimaced and gave a small yelp in the back of her throat as she tugged the blades free, fresh blood welling up in their place.
"Here, let me see that," said Della, coming over with a small first aid box and bandaging Miss Hardbroom's hand deftly. "It'll be alright, I've cut myself on those knives many a time before, and I'm still here."
Mildred noticed the pale scars that covered her fingers as they fluttered over the dressing.
"Thank you," said Miss Hardbroom quietly, flexing her fingers. Only the slightest twitch of her lip betrayed her calm facial expression, but it was enough to let Mildred know how much pain she was in.
"Miss Hardbroom," she began, unsure of how to ask her many, many questions. "Why... How..."
"If the questions you are asking are 'Why am I here?' and 'How did I get out of the castle?' then I will answer those in good time, Mildred." She turned to Della. "Hello. You must be Della Spinder. My name is Constance Hardbroom, Cackle's deputy head. I'm sorry that we should have to be introduced in such dire circumstances, but time is of the essence and we really must get back to the castle. I trust that Mildred and Davina have told you everything?"
Della nodded, speechless for the moment.
"Agatha – that was her, your unwanted guest – she will not be put off by this distraction for long, and the sooner we return to Cackle's, the better." She paused. "At present, it seems that she has no idea of your power," she said to Della. "Therefore I think it best if you come with us, for your own protection."
"I'm grateful, Miss Hardbroom but really, I was just telling Mildred, I have no power."
"Well, seeing how easily you were incapacitated by a relatively simple tornado, I had guessed that already," said Miss Hardbroom, "but that's not important. The fact remains that you are a Liaison, and you may well be our only hope. Please come with us."
Mildred had never seen her form-mistress look so in earnest, her brown eyes pleading whilst the rest of her face remained impassive. Della looked around the room, at her one destroyed book case, at the puddles on the floor and the pages strewn about everywhere.
"Well, I'm hardly likely to keep the shop open in such conditions as this, am I?" She sighed. "I'll come. I'll help if I can. Don't say that I didn't warn you if I turn out to be about as much use as a chocolate teapot."
"Then there's no time to lose." Miss Hardbroom turned towards the shop door. "I'll explain everything on the way, Mildred," she added, on seeing her pupil open her mouth indignantly.
"Wait," said Della, and she rushed off into the back room before returning moments later with a handbag swinging from one wrist and something bunched in her arms. Miss Hardbroom raised an inquiring eyebrow.
"I call it my witchy coat," said Della, a blush rising in her cheeks. She cast her eyes downwards, embarrassed, placing the bag on the desk and pulling on the garment. It was a vintage frock coat in restored black velvet, with silver spirals embroidered all over it. It certainly looked magical enough, and Mildred was mesmerised by the patterns for a few moments before Della crossed the shop towards them, keys in hand.
"Hang on," she said, stopping in the middle of the floor. "Where's Davina?"
Mildred thought hard, and realised that she had not seen her chanting teacher all through the skirmish with Agatha. Della was already off, returning to the back room once more, calling her friend's name. Mildred and Miss Hardbroom followed, arriving just in time to see a hysterical Miss Bat burst forth from the dresser in the corner. Whilst Della assured her that everyone was perfectly fine, Mildred thought that she could hear a muttered 'typical' from the witch beside her. At length, they moved through the shop again, and Della was just locking the door when Miss Bat gave an exclamation of surprise.
"Constance!" she cried, only just noticing her colleague's presence. "When did you get here?"
Mildred did not even attempt to stifle the giggles that erupted at this remark and increased on seeing the deputy head give a sigh of utter despair at the diminutive chanting teacher.
Note2: Coming up in Inferno 11 - More magic! More mystery! More gratuitous injuring of HB! And a reference to Sense and Sensibility!
*Kimmeth constructs a makeshift mind-control machine out of her hairdryer and her flatmates colander, and sends out beams to all her readers- REVIEWREVIEWREVIEWREVIEW...*