Erskine was happy. For the first time in decades, he was ecstatic. A bounce to his step, a gleam in his eye, a permanent grin plastered on his face. After all these years he was finally with the love of his life. He glanced over his bowl of soup to look at her. He couldn't seem to stop looking at her. Ethel was reading a book, some dusty ancient thing about magic for beginners, and eating her soup slowly. She felt his stare and looked up, smiling. She seemed unsure of him, but Erskine didn't mind. She didn't remember anything, it must be weird for her. But in time she would learn to love him, he was sure of it.

"Are you magic?" Ethel asked softly. Erskine nodded, smiling.

"Yes, I'm an elemental. Do you know what that means?" He replied cheerfully.

Ethel thought for a moment then nodded. "You can control the elements; fire, water, air, earth. Right? Can you teach me? Please? I want to help you, I want to be like you." Ethel said sweetly. Erskine felt butterflies in his stomach as he nodded. He picked up a grape from the basket of fruit in the centre of the table and placed it between them. He manipulated the air to move the grape closer to Ethel. Her eyes lit up with fascination and curiosity.

"How did you do that!?" She exclaimed.

"Picture the air as if you can see it; interlocking shapes making up everything around us. If you manipulate one of those small linked shapes, it has an effect. The air displaces and in doing so displaces the object." Erskine droned. Ethel stared intently at the grape, her brow furrowed in concentration. She splayed her hand, biting the inside of her cheek, trying to see air. She felt daft. She looked a little daft too. Erskine clasped her outstretched hand, holding it gently.

"It'll take some time, dear. You might not even be magic anymore." He said, realising his slip up a moment too late.

"So I am magic?" Ethel asked, staring intently.

"You... were. I don't know if you still are. There's a chance you might not be... it's complicated."

Ethel frowned but continued eating her soup, glancing intently at the grape every one in a while.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through all that. With them, I mean." Erskine said, testing the waters. He had to be sure. Ethel's face crumpled.

"I didn't even know. They all seemed so nice and friendly. You saved me, Erskine." Ethel said softly, her eyes meeting his. Erskine thought his heart was going to leap out of his chest. Once they finished lunch, Erskine excused himself. He kissed Ethel's forehead, gave one last lingering smile and then left.

--

Ethel physically shook herself out, trying to shake his touch off of her. He was totally fine lying to her! Bare faced, stone cold sober, lying to her! She hated it. She hated him. Ethel didn't even know how or why things were the way they are, but she knew with absolute certainty that she despised the man with the golden eyes. But she had work to do. Asking to leave seemed too bold; and she was too scared to sneak out herself. So she had to get creative. In the two days she had been there, she was on her own a lot. So she trained for hours at a time; she barely slept. Instead she was up, twirling and swirling and jabbing and stabbing at the air with the polished arnis. She exercised rigorously. She might not be able to use her magic, but she would be damned if she wouldn't help at all.

She had managed to learn the demon's routines. The heavy door at the front was locked every time someone came through it, and a red eyed teenager stood guard there, switching every three hours. But one boy, Nick, was always a little late. So that gave Ethel about a minute to get downstairs, unlock the door, and go back upstairs quietly and discreetly. The mansion was somehow blocked to incoming magic, Erskine assured her. So that means the blonde man wouldn't be able to randomly appear, so they'd have to get in the old fashioned way. The windows were barred, and then there was a red sheen to them; so a magical barrier Ethel assumed. So the door was the only option. There was Macon, who seemed to be in charge. Then there were three demons, who always seemed to be around Macon. Then, of course, there was Erskine. They seemed to be the big hitters, the most trained, the most powerful, the most lethal. There were about thirty other inhabitants in the house. Cleaners, gardeners and chefs who all appeared to be human, with no magical abilities, demonic or otherwise. How they came to be here, Ethel dreaded to think. That left twenty four demons, all with varying skills, powers and abilities.

Ethel had all the information she could gather. Now was the hardest part; getting that information to her brother. Ethel made her way to the library, wearing Holly's denim shorts and Erskine's oversized grey jumper. They hadn't let her get her own clothes- for her own safety, they assured. They'd taken her bag away from her on entry in case of any microphones or recording devices, but she refused to give up her arnis. Today she spent hours in the library. There must be some way to communicate outside of this place. She had read hundreds of pages, a lot of which she didn't understand, but she had to find a way. In one book she learned about the spell that turned the demons; Macon himself bathed in the blood of 99 mortals to become a demon. There was a chant, one that made Ethel weary just reading it. A symbol had to be drawn on or next to the person in question. To turn the other demons the chant had to be said, and their blood had to be drained. To reverse it a separate chant had to be said and the demons have to drink untainted blood. It all seemed a bit vampiric to Ethel, and it made her feel sick. She idly wondered if she could reverse the spell. Ethel learned the reversal chant, reading the foreign words of a dead language over and over and over again until she was absolutely sure she had memorised it.

Ethel read for a couple more hours and just as she was about to give up hope; she found it. A way to communicate. The book was thin and had definitely seen better days. It was a spell to speak to someone far away. She didn't know what that meant, or if she could even do it. But she was certainly doing to try.