Something wicked this way comes
"Everyone – is – rounded up," panted Jane, rushing across to Benny's grandma. She pointed to the small barricade that the witches had thrown up. Mrs Weir, and now Jane, was standing behind a kind of shimmering shield, while tongues of flame shot randomly across the field. Jane frowned at the strange translucent bubble. "How come we're safe?"
"It deflects the light," said Mrs Weir, grimacing in concentration. "From the point of view of that creature, we're invisible."
"Oh. Cool. Can you teach me?"
"It's a rather complicated and power-draining spell, so I'll tell you another time, though it might have been useful if I'd taught it to you earlier. When we're not in mortal danger, perhaps?" Mrs Weir gave a faint smile.
Jane held out her hand. "Deal."
Benny's grandma took it. "Deal. Right, let's find out who did this."
Her usually friendly expression vanishing, and being replaced by one of determined, and quite frightening, fury, Mrs Weir swept off towards the huddle of witches, the rippling shield following her. Jane followed hurriedly at her heels.
"Please talk to me, Ethan."
"I am," he replied, tersely. "Question 38 –"
"There isn't a Question 38!" said Benny.
"Then I'll make one," snapped Ethan. He closed his eyes briefly, and then dictated his made up question:
"Integrate, by parts, the function f(x) = x sin(x)."
Biting his lip in his determination not to cry, Benny set to work on the question. If this was the only way he and Ethan were going to get to talk, then he'd do whatever was needed.
Jane stood a little to one side, rather in awe of Mrs Weir as she blazed at the coven of frightened witches. She'd never expected such a vitriolic display from the nice lady who lived over the street, and whom she had known all her life. She'd seen her be stern with her brother and Benny before, but never angry. The other witches, too, had clearly never seen anything like it either. Jane had the distinct impression that many of them were weighing up whether running towards the devil – which, and Jane tried not to think about this, was seeming a lot more active than it had been – was a safer option than staying in front of Mrs Weir.
"…Well? Which of you is it?" said Mrs Weir, coming to the end of her tirade and glaring at the shaking group of witches.
No-one answered her. Jane scanned the frightened faces. There was something up, here, she felt, but she couldn't quite place what.
"Tell me! Admit it, and we can fix this. If you don't, this is too powerful for anyone to control."
A little witch (with a yellow glow, Jane observed) coughed timidly before speaking up. "Er, Evelyn? I don't think that's it's any of us…"
"Nonsense, Jenny! It has to be a witch – for this could only be done with magic!" Mrs Weir stepped forwards, ominously. "Or was it you after all?"
The small woman shrank away from Mrs Weir's steely glare, shaking her head in little frightened spasms. "Not me, no, I couldn't possibly – none of us are powerful enough."
Another witch (red) nodded in nervous agreement. "This is beyond ordinary magic. Only a witch of, um, your powers could do something like this… And , um…"
Mrs Weir frowned. "You could be working together."
"We're not!" squeaked another witch (lilac). "Otherwise, why would we be cowering here?"
"We're clearly not controlling it," put in yet one more (pink).
Jane ran her eyes over the crowd again, both on the real and the magical plane. There was something wrong. Something missing – but what?
Benny's grandma clearly didn't believe them, and launched into another interrogation. Jane knew that it had to have been a witch, but, at the same time, couldn't believe that it was any one of the terrified people in front of her. And these were definitely all the witches. Turning quickly, just to make sure, she scanned the entire field. Apart from the two blue glows over by the non-witches, the only magical light was here. She frowned. It just didn't make sense. There were no other witches.
Then the penny dropped.
Cursing herself for not paying closer attention to an apparently meaningless piece of exposition earlier in the night, Jane cleared her throat and stepped forward.
"Uh, Grandma Weir?"
"Not now, child," she said dismissively, before returning her diatribe.
"Mrs Weir!" said Jane, more forcefully.
"Quiet!" hissed Benny's grandma, which stung Jane.
Not defeated, though, Jane determinedly stepped directly in front of her. Mrs Weir went to irritably push her aside, but, before she could, Jane shouted: "Evelyn! Stop being an idiot and just listen to me!"
Everyone froze. To Jane, even the roaring of the (still weirdly immobile) devil ceased. The other witches held their breath.
Slowly, Mrs Weir's angry expression softened. She looked a little sheepish, and then flushed with embarrassment.
She looked down. "I'm sorry, dear. What is it that you've thought of?"
"Where's Marguerite?" asked Jane.
"Sin(x) – xcos(x)?"
"No. But almost –"
"- I hadn't finished!" interrupted Benny.
Ethan waited coolly in silence.
"+ c. Sin(x) – xcos(x) + c." Benny looked hopefully over at Ethan.
"Ethan? Come on… It's not like – E., I know that I –"
"Question 39…"
Benny groaned inwardly. How long was this going to go on for? At least they'd have to stop when his grandma came home… Thinking that, he wondered what she and Jane were doing. Whatever it was, it had to be better than this mess he'd made for himself.
"Ah…" breathed Mrs Weir. "And she couldn't be found because she was powerful enough for her light to be invisible, like mine."
"Well, you did teach me everything you know."
Mrs Weir and Jane spun around. Marguerite floated a short distance above them, her black cloak billowing around her. As Jane had suspected, when she tilted her head, she could see no glowing halo of colour. That was why she had missed her. She felt so foolish for forgetting that.
"Marguerite!" cried Benny's grandmother. "Undo this! It's too dangerous!"
"Why should I?" sneered the other witch. "I've finally achieved what every witch in history has tried to do: I've summoned the Devil from Hell. I did where you failed, Evelyn. Now who is the greater witch?"
"I didn't do it because I knew that it was the wrong thing to do. It was something that never should have been pursued."
"But why, Evelyn? It gives us – well, me – unlimited power. All these years I was in your shadow; your student. Were you frightened that I'd outshine you? And was that why you were always looking for a replacement – first your useless grandson and now this uncontrollable girl. Well, no more. Witches of the world will follow me now."
"Marguerite, stop! None of that is true. There are always new witches being trained – and none of them replace any other witch. And in whose eyes are you seeking respect – or is it only fear that you want?"
Marguerite snarled. "Whatever gets rid of you the fastest!" She snapped her fingers in the direction of the Devil. "You can be the first demonstration of my power." She turned towards the centre of the field. "Come, Mephisto, attend on me!"
"Marguerite, don't call it towards you! It cannot be controlled by you – it is completely independent; a demonic power beyond any other."
The mad witch raised an eyebrow at Benny's grandma as the beast flapped lazily towards her. "It seems to respond to my command readily enough. You're just spreading lies again, you worn-out old hag."
Mrs Weir stared defiantly up at her former friend and pupil. "Marguerite… Don't…"
The massive crimson form of the Devil appeared at the elbow of the hovering witch. For the first time, Jane got a good look at it, and realised why it had been so slow to move. Its tail, and clearly once most of its lower half, was caked in thick ice. Where had it got that from? It opened its three mouths, and Jane thought that she could see bones between its teeth. The arch-fiend roared, shaking the earth. It even unbalanced an unprepared Marguerite. Mrs Weir, though, remained calmly rooted to the spot.
"Marguerite," she said, softly, "send it back. It's the only thing that you can do to have any power over it."
The woman just laughed. "I'll listen to no more of your 'advice', Evelyn. The creature does my bidding obediently." She pointed down to Mrs Weir, who folded her arms resignedly.
Jane watched in horror. Was she going to do nothing to stop her? She must have some kind of plan to save them all, surely.
Marguerite cackled madly. "Beast – kill her!"
The six yellow eyes focused on their target; the pair of great red wings swept back; the three mouths opened, and three separate tongues of flame shot out.
There was a scream, and then – nothing. Nothing except the crackling of the burning grass and the faint reek of burning flesh.