That tomorrow'll be different than today
The teleportation goes off without a hitch yet, successfully delivering us to the same partly overgrown path that leads past the white building we know the kidnapped magical beings to be in. It looks no different from the day when we stumbled over Jims, though of course we need to consider the fact that his disappearance has since been notice and that added protective measure might have been taken.
"Any protective spells?" Joy asks quietly, looking at Leslie and Ken.
They both look focused, Leslie having her eyes closed and Ken with a frown etched between his brows as they probe the atmosphere around the building for any witchcraft meant to repel or harm us. Wanting to help them, I extend my own magic, sending it to search for something that might be of interest.
Look for a threat.
Eagerly, my magic uncurls, happy to be able to do something. I can feel it searching the building, looking for something that might harm us, when –
When suddenly, I whip around, my body instinctively following my magic as it whirls through the air. I don't have time to consider, before shouting, instinctively, "Take care!"
To their credit, the others react almost immediately. Turning quickly, they, too, must immediately see the darkly-clad figure that alerted my magic. It is the same figure from the alley, all those weeks ago, and the same figure that Leslie fought on the outskirts of her home not much later. Just from the looks, it could be anyone, of course, but my magic knows who it is and so do I.
The others have already sprung into action. There's wind whistling around us, courtesy of Mum, and the earth moving beneath the feet of the dark figure, likely Joy borrowing Di's favourite magic for better effect. Leslie and Ken are on the move, too, and as objects start to rise around us, it's they who're pushing back, moving them away with their spells.
The dark figure, alas, remains unimpressed. Standing firmly despite the rippling ground and the whooshing wind, the figure continues to direct objects to fly towards us, blocking our path, blocking us in.
Keep them safe.
The thought is instinctive, almost primal.
And then –
Then, I know, it is time to change the course of history.
I prepared for this moment, to the best of my ability, and yet now that it has arrived, I feel woefully unprepared for it. No, it runs deeper than that. It's not only that I'm not feeling prepared – I'm actually scared.
I tried to cram as much preparation and training into the past three days as I possibly could. I had a long video call with Elizabeth Grayson, who didn't know the specifics of time-related magic, but was able to share memories and observations of her great-grandmother with me, which was the closest I came to getting first-hand information.
She did also caution me strongly against turning time back for several days, reminding me that her great-grandmother never dared and for good reason – and yet, what else could I do?
From Elizabeth, I learned to picture the very moment I want to go back to, before bidding my magic to turn back time itself, to wind it back up on the coil it already unfurled from once – and then, to let it uncurl itself again, for time to repeat itself and no-one any the wiser but me.
I started with just a few seconds, working myself up to minutes and then an hour. I made a sentence unsaid, then a sandwich uneaten, finally a TV show unseen. Never did I change a thing though about what followed, sticking carefully to a script only I knew, lest I ran risk of changing the course of time without meaning to.
At first, I was more imprecise still, not quite hitting the very moment I wanted but veering some seconds too far towards the past or too close to the now – or the future, I guess, as it became the moment I messed with time. A potential future, rather, that might run its course or might not, depending on nothing but my own will.
Mum and Joy helped me practice, helped me get more precise until I started hitting the correct moment with adequate frequency. Meanwhile, Leslie, Ken and Persis wandered around the house aimlessly, stuck in some terrible limbo marked by a mix of grief, anger, anticipation, disappointment and, perhaps, a vague flicker of hope. I knew that whatever they were feeling, it all hinged on me, and in my many moments of doubt, that's what I focused on.
My plan might be crazy, the outcome might be undefined and it all might yet blow up in my face completely – but at least I'm doing it for people I care for. Perhaps that can be my saving grace within all this madness. I'm not, in the end, doing this for myself.
That thought was something to hold on to when, after too little time and too little preparation, I resolved that it was literally now or never. Elizabeth Grayson, Mum and Joy, even the Fords, they'd all taken me as far as they could. From the moment I sat down and focused my mind on the moment we arrived on the industrial estate prior to our confrontation with Owen Ford, no-one could help me anymore.
From the moment I actually turned back time, I was on my own.
I'm on my own now, because only I know the natural outcome of this situation – and only I have the power to change it, come what may afterwards.
Right now, there's only me.
Around me, they're all whirling around like they did the last time, suddenly none the wiser anymore about the past few days that were wiped from their recollection when my magic made time do its very biding. It's a strange thought, a terrifying thought, and a thought I will probably have to dwell upon for quite a while longer, but now is not the time – quite literally.
Now, I have to act.
Now, it's time to change the future.
Keep them safe. All of them.
And there it is.
Three simple words and I know everything will be different.
Three little words and suddenly, Owen Ford cannot die anymore, simply because I willed it so. Because now he's included in my magical protection, he cannot die, not this time around. It's as simple as that. He lives and time itself changes course.
I look at him, look past the hurtling car that seems to be moving as if in slow motion. He stands there, a black-clad figure with a hidden face, and then –
And then he nods.
It's small, almost imperceptible, but it's most definitely a nod.
A nod of… of what? Of understanding? Of complicity, even?
But how…?
I freeze, confused.
The car continues moving through the air.
How can it be?
He cannot remember!
None of them can possibly remember!
It's only me who knows that we were here before. It's only me –
He cannot know. He cannot remember.
And yet –
The car hurtles towards the ground, not near Owen Ford, but close to Ken, too close to Ken for my liking.
No!
Focus.
I need to focus.
Move the car.
I have but thought the thought when the car changes course sharply, away from Ken, in the other direction, towards his father. Time speeds up again as it does and for a moment, I think it was all for naught, that the course of time will just repeat itself in the same way it did before, regardless of what I do –
But then the car cashes down, crashes to the ground and Owen Ford remains standing, mere feet away from it. He barely flinches when the car hits the ground. The flying debris misses him as if by a miracle and that's how I know my magic is working.
Block the power. Block everyone's power.
And just like that, it's done.
The wind settles down immediately and the earth stops moving. Whatever objects were in the air tumble to the ground immediately, not hitting anyone solely because my magic wills it so.
I turn to Owen Ford and find him looking at me as well. I can't see his face, shrouded as it is in darkness, but again, I think he's giving me a tiny nod of mutual understanding. Then, slowly, he gets to his knees, bows his head and – waits.
He seems resigned to his fate. He even seems to… welcome it.
He must know. He must remember. There's no other explanation for it and yet…
I can't see how it's possible!
"Rilla?"
I whirl around to look at a confused Di. She is, no doubt, wondering why I took away everyone's magic and not just that of our opponent. And who, honestly, can blame her?
"Sorry." I reach for my most sheepish smile. "My magic ran away from me there. I'll put it right in a moment."
But I don't, not right away. Instead, I turn back around and watch Ken approach the man he doesn't yet know to be his father. Owen Ford waits, quiet and unmoving, as his son walks towards him. He is cautious, Ken is, no doubt aware that his own connection to witchcraft is no longer intact for the moment. He even briefly looks over his shoulder at me, as if wanting to make sure that I have his back,
"It's okay," I mouth, even knowing that in a second or two, nothing will be okay again.
It pains me, to watch him walk towards his own pain. When I turned back time, I returned ignorance to him, his mother and his sister. For a few minutes, they were freed of the knowledge of what their father and husband had done. For a few minutes, I assume they were lighter for it, and now it will all come crashing down again. I could deter the course of the car, but this, I cannot protect them from.
I must admit, as I see Ken walk to reveal his father as he culprit of so much suffering, I am tempted to do something, anything, to intervene. I consider, briefly, to create a diversion, to try and hide the identify of the dark-clad figure before us. I even, for a mad second, consider throwing us even further back in time, weeks or even months, so I can make all of it undone, make the pain go away in the past, the present and the future.
But I do not dare and anyway, this wasn't what was agreed. It is dangerous magic I wield and I know it. The only way I can justify doing this is by doing it exactly as I agreed with those affected. Otherwise, how would I be any better than the man kneeling before us now?
Thus, I watch as Ken takes the final steps, ignoring the part of me that cries out for him to stop.
"Rilla?"
That's Mum, stepping up to stand by my side.
She doesn't know, of course, doesn't remember what we all agreed upon just moments ago. She doesn't know that we all lived this moment before. Except –
Except we didn't.
The car hit the ground and Owen Ford is still alive. I have the advantage of knowing who he is, but other than that, this moment is as new to me as it is to anyone. I threw time off its course and when I did, I created a future that is utterly new. I set us upon a new path and while I have the advantage of knowing which course the old path took, the new one is as shrouded in mystery for me as it is for everyone.
If I had any time to think about this thoroughly, I have a feeling it would do my head in, but just in that moment, Ken reaches out to pull back the hood hiding Owen Ford's face and I know that from here on, everything will truly be different.
I barely have time to brace myself before –
"Dad?"
And here it goes.
For a brief moment, it seems like time itself freezes and as it does, so do we. Owen Ford is still kneeling on the ground with Ken standing above him and Leslie a few steps behind. A little behind me and to my right are Mum and Joy, just visible from the corner of my eye.
None of us moves.
Then, for a fraction of a second, Owen Ford looks at me. He doesn't turn his head, merely moves his eyes to the side so that he can look at me. It's just a fleeting moment, but we make eye contact and once more, I have a feeling that he knows.
He can't remember that we agreed to go back and change this moment and yet, somehow, I can't shake the feeling that he does. It shouldn't be possible and yet –
Ken abruptly turns his head to look at me. Almost as quickly, I break eye contact with his father.
I'm not sure if it was fast enough.
"Owen?" whispers Leslie.
Her voice is so quiet as to be almost impossible to hear and yet, it is equally impossible to overhear. It's hardly quiet here in this industrial estate, not even in the somewhat secluded corner we're currently standing in, and yet, Leslie's whisper carries over all other sounds easily. It hangs in the air, expanding to fill it, and it is so loaded with meaning that I can't even begin to unravel it.
Suddenly, I almost feel bad for Owen Ford. Facing the disappointment of his family – if 'disappointment' isn't far too soft a word anyway – certainly won't be a picknick and it's not something I envy him having to do. In fact, I imagine it will be so very uncomfortable that I do almost feel for him – except, you know, for him kidnapping all those people to use them as study objects. That certainly counts against him.
On second thought, maybe he deserves everything he's got coming for him.
"Owen?" repeats Leslie, a touch louder this time.
"Dad?" adds Ken, his voice laced with confusion.
Owen Ford sighs softly.
"May I stand up?" Outwardly, he directs the question at his son standing above him, but I know instinctively that he's also talking to me. I am, after all, the one currently holding everyone's magic hostage, which in turn makes me the only one able to wield magic if I felt so inclined.
After a brief moment of hesitation, Ken takes a step back. Me, I incline my head downwards slightly in what could, with some goodwill, be described as a sort of half-nod. I don't dare express myself more clearly, but Owen Ford seems to understand anyway and slowly gets to his feet.
While he does, Joy shuffles up to stand by my side and leans close to me.
"Really?" she mutters into my ear. "It was him all along?"
I just stop myself from nodding and thus revealing that I know things I am not supposed to know. Instead, I shrug a little more elaborately than strictly necessary.
"It would appear so," I murmur back, hoping it's suitably vague.
A few steps away from us, all three Fords are now standing facing each other. None of them says a word, probably for fear of making it worse on Owen Ford's part and because they're still trying to process the implications of what's happening on Ken and Leslie's.
Then, very suddenly and without warning, Leslie makes a sharp motion with her hand. At first it looks like she might be attempting to slap her husband, but then I realise she's trying to use witchcraft to unleash… something on him.
Except, of course, nothing happens, because I'm still temporarily blocking everyone's magic. All things considered, it didn't seem like the most foolish idea and Leslie just proved me right. Whatever wrath Owen Ford might deserve, too many people have already been hurt in this entire mess.
I don't think Leslie understands what's happening immediately, but Ken catches on right away. He turns and looks at me, his expression quizzical.
In reply, I raise my shoulders in an apologetic half-shrug. "Sorry. Looks like the magic went renegade on me again. It should all be back to normal soon."
Specifically, when I want it to be. I'm not about to tell him that though.
Ken turns back to his father again, but I catch a brief glimpse of his face as he does and I realise he doesn't believe me. Right from the beginning he was one of maybe three people who believed quite faithfully in my ability to figure out my magic and while he clearly seems to have decided not to press the matter, I don't think he believes my claim to have lost control of it right this very moment.
Joy, it appears, doesn't believe it either. "Liar," she whispers in my ear. Then, after a moment, "Give it back."
Give Joy and Mum their magic back.
There's a prickle on my skin and I know Joy feels it, too, from the way she flexed her fingers appreciatively. "Thanks," she murmurs, and I nod briefly to acknowledge it, before turning back to where Leslie, robbed of her witchcraft, has now resorted to slapping her husband after all.
Just in that moment, Mum, probably summoned by the return of her own magic or perhaps by Leslie's slap, steps up to stand on my other side.
"We need to get moving," she states quietly and nods her head at the Fords. "Can you bring them back to their home, Rilla?"
Beam all three of them back to their castle, she means?
I feel inside of me, poking my magic and trying to figure out whether it's still up for some teleportation.
"I'm a bit tired," I admit. "I think I can do it. I'm not sure I can also bring us back afterwards as well."
It's honestly a bit of an understatement. After turning time back far further than ever before, beaming all of us here and blocking everyone's magic, I'm positively exhausted. It's more magic than I've ever done before and more complex magic, too. I might have mostly gotten the hang of it, but that doesn't mean it comes easily to me yet.
"Do I… warn them or something?" I ask, thinking about what Elizabeth Grayson once told me about consent and gesturing towards the Family Ford.
Briefly, we all turn to look at the three Fords. Leslie is silently but intently staring down her husband who, in turn, is bravely trying to meet her gaze, yet keeps failing every time after mere seconds. Ken stands a little to the side, watching them both, his expression too guarded to allow many feelings to shine through.
"Just bring them away from here," Joy decides for me. "After all, extraordinary situations call for extraordinary measures."
She's got a point.
Take them back to their home.
It's proof, I think, of how exhausted my magic and I are that it takes a full ten seconds before anything happens. Leslie and Owen Ford disappear first with Ken following a few moments later. He remains here long enough to turn and seek my gaze, but before I can try and explain, he, too, dissolves into thin air.
"I hope I didn't accidentally send them to Papua-New Guinea," I murmur to myself, looking at where the Fords just stood.
I can feel Joy look at me quizzically from the side, but she doesn't pry. Instead, she remarks, "I hope they don't hex each other into oblivion."
"I kept their witchcraft blocked," I tell her, shrugging slightly. "Not the polite way to do this, but I figured it was… safer this way."
I don't mention my agreement with Owen Ford to keep his witchcraft blocked indefinitely in exchange for bringing him back. It sounds too much like bartering about things that one shouldn't barter over, so, in light of that, I keep mum.
"They need time to talk this out," remarks Mum as she returns to us from where she inspected the crashed car that, in another timeline or perhaps in another universe, once crushed Owen Ford to death. "We need to give them time and space."
It goes, I must admit, against my instinct. I'd rather cut off my tongue than admit to it, but my instinct is to beam myself after them, not to intervene in their family talk but to… well, to be there for Ken, I suppose. I saw how betrayed and broken he was when learning about his father's crimes the first time around and I know that this time won't be easy on him either. If I could, I'd go after him and offer support, but even as I think it, I realise Mum is right.
For now, they need to figure this out on their own, without us intervening.
"Do we go inside?" asks Joy, obviously having moved on quicker than I did, and points at the white building adjacent to the path we're still standing on.
"We need to call the police," I point out. Just because I decided to let Owen Ford live doesn't mean I want to change everything that happened. If at all possible, I'd prefer for everything else to happen as closely as possible to how it did the first time around.
"We will," agrees Mum. "But first, let's check what's inside there and whether anyone needs our help."
Of course, I know what awaits us in there. I didn't enter the building the first time we were here, but Mum and Joy told me about it, even if they don't remember anymore. The building is partitioned off into small rooms alongside a corridor, all of them windowless and functional-looking, but clean and decent-sized. White walls, a bed, a desk, a chair and a small bathroom each, though from what I gather, the people held there were kept asleep most of the time anywhere, thus making the beds the most-used items in every room. There is, apparently, also a larger room at one end of the corridor that has a two-way mirror installed at one side. This clearly, was where Owen Ford did his observations of the various types of magic, ostensibly in service of science.
He really does deserve everything coming his way right now!
"Shall we go inside?" asks Joy, already taking a step towards the building.
I am, I can't deny, reluctant to enter. I'm not sure I really want to see this place that was previously only described to me. People were hurt there, emotionally if not physically, and that doesn't become less true only because Owen Ford claims that he meant no harm.
Which in turn means… maybe I should see this place with my own eyes. Maybe I even need to see it to truly understand and to get straight everything that happened with all its implications. Maybe this is just what I need to get the necessary perspective on everything that happened and everything that was done.
The last thing I want, after all, is to start feeling sorry for Owen bloody Ford!
The title of this chapter is taken from the song 'Would you be happier' (written by Andrea Corr, Caroline Corr, James Corr and Sharon Corr, released by The Corrs in 2002).
A/N: Just a brief note to announce that I'm taking another little holiday break. Expect the next update on December 6th!
To Guest:
Yes, choice and consent a really important aspect of this story! Rilla wasn't asked before Owen took her magic and neither were Miranda, Jims and the others asked before he decided to 'study' theirs. Therefore, for Rilla to act differently and actually consult others about their opinion and not acting against the wishes of those involved, that's a very important distinction between her and Owen. He decided that he knew best and didn't have to involve anyone else, while she is actively letting others chose what happens to them. That's really very important!