Author's Note:
Dear reader,
I don't know whether you read my author's notes or not. I hope that you do, but I don't really mind if you deem it unnecessary and skip to the story. Anyway, I must warn you that despite my previous promise to keep these bits of babbling to a minimum, this one will be quite long, for apart from the usual thanks which I must extend to you, I also feel the need to explain myself a bit.
As you noticed (or maybe you didn't) I have been absent for quite a while and didn't update Fire and Ice for more than a month. I can assure you that this didn't happen because I lost interest in the story or because of lack of ideas. In the same vein, I can assure you that as long as you are willing to read this story I will write it, no matter how long it takes. This chapter has been by far the hardest to get out not because of its content but because of the whirlpool of events that has been occurring in the past weeks in my life. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I tried to prevent real life from disturbing my fanfiction routine, I failed and this affected the present story. I once again wish to apologise profusely for not updating sooner and assure you that I didn't mean any disrespect towards you. On the contrary. How could I have anything but the highest regard and affection for you when you waste you precious time reading this?
To those that have been reviewing Fire and Ice and that have supported me up to now: Chrissiemusa(who maybe would consider creating a account so I could respond personally to her wonderful reviews),, HB rules, Princess Sammi, chocomoon, Aleksandra Hardbroom and melissa Ivory,what can I say? I have reading and re-reading your reviews multiple times and each time they have brightened my day and brought a smile to my face. You are a most wonderful bunch of people. I feel humbled and honoured by the fact that you have judged this work so favourably and it is to you that I should apologise the most. I cannot promise that such a delay will never happen again as things are pretty hectic at the moment, but I do promise that I will try my best to avoid it.
Last but most definitely not the least, I need to thank the wonderful NextChristineDaae not only because she helped me bear the random events (which weren't necessarily bad, just slightly annoying and time-consuming) that invaded my usually quiet lifestyle, but also because she taught me so much both about writing and life in general. This chapter is dedicated to her.
Yours faithfully,
Lemondrop
Disclaimer: I do not own the passages of the medical pamphlet that Amelia is reading. Those lines are copied shamelessly from such a pamphlet found during my research on the internet (if you have any interest in the matter and want to see it for yourself I can provide you with a link or send it to you). As I said before, I have absolutely no training in the medical field (I don't think watching House MD counts) and I thought it would be better if the information I provide is as accurate as possible.
FIRE AND ICE
BOOK I: THE WIELDER, THE GIVER AND THE HEIR
Chapter 7: Fear makes strangers of people who would be friends (Shirley Maclaine)
When Hope entered the ragged old room she fought the urge to vomit. The pregnant smell of sweat and urine, combined with the scent of cheap perfume and old rotten food filled her nostrils and made her stomach churn. She started to breathe through her mouth, closing her nostrils to the offending air. Trying to take in as little of her surroundings as it was humanly possible, she carefully walked towards the old Victorian-style bed, which had long lost its shine, determined to get it over and done with quickly. It was in that impossible dim light, squinting her eyes to the point of pain, that she saw the latest person she would come in contact with. Thank god, it was an elderly lady who, judging by her unfocused stare had lost her sight. Hope involuntarily let out a sigh of relief. Most people of a certain age tended to show acceptance towards their own mortality and some of them, especially after a long period of illness, seemed thankful rather than resentful. Yes, that seemed to be like an easy case and she hoped that she would get to leave the place before she died of suffocation.
Her thoughts soon changed when she approached the bed and sensed the faint wave of energy that was surrounding the woman. Being one of the Elemental Masters, she was more sensitive than most to the energies that were either surrounding or coming from an individual. While this, like many of the other benefits that came with mastering Elemental Magic, could prove to be infinitely useful, especially in recognising magical signatures, it also made her more susceptible to the emotions experienced by others, which, in turn, sometimes interfered with her judgement. She recognized the faint aura surrounding the woman like a dimmed halo. It was the same aura she sensed more forcefully around Noah. It was the energy of someone who had been in contact with spirits and the future for her entire life. Dismissing this thought and the curiosity that invariably came with it, she motioned her hand to put it on the woman's forehead but found that it was caught in a forceful grip. Like claws, frail hands took a hold of her wrist and with an unusual power they turned her hand, palm upside up. The woman's thin, wrinkled fingers traced the lines of her left palm and Hope fought the urge to vigorously release her hand from the grip.
"Your life is short, my dear" the raspy voice said, the woman's unfocused eyes staring blindly at the ceiling. "All that power coursing through your veins is for nought and you know why…"
An irrational sense of fear, probably streaming from her self-preservation instincts took a hold of the young lady. The aura surrounding the woman was becoming more and more intense, with every minute she held Hope's wrist in her grip. It was as if the frail old woman was feeding of the vigorous energy of the girl.
"Be quiet!" she ordered in a low growl, her blue eyes converting to a dangerous red.
"Your greatest strength is your greatest weakness. That will be your downfall…" the woman disregarded her words and said what she said with a malicious grin showing her decayed teeth.
"If you know what is good for you, you will be quiet or…" she muttered under her breath, trying to control the fury in her voice.
"Or what, my dear? I know what you came to do and I am not afraid. I can sense death hanging above your head, following you like a faithful pup… I wonder, how long will it take for it to consume you?" she said in a taunting voice and placed her free hand on the woman's marble white face, touching her features "You are so young and yet your soul seems so very old…"
"If you are not afraid, release my hand and let me do what I came here to do" Hope said calmly, trying to control the increasing wave of rage that was now forcefully invading her mind.
Hope felt the core of her magic shudder and tremble from both fear and the disturbance that the woman had created. Their energies, one as white as snow while the other as black as the night, tried to repel each other with the force of a small explosion. Feeling that she had the upper hand, mostly due to her youth and health, the Elemental Mistress focused her magic into something that resembled thin needles and tried with all her might to expel the parasitical force that was feeding of her power. Her eyes the deepest red, her nails digging into the wrinkled skin, she waited with baited breath and a rising feeling of panic to see what was going to happen.
"I might be blind, but I see things better than those who have sight. And what I now see is that you are the one who is afraid. You are afraid that my words might be right. You are afraid that I will guess your secret… You are afraid that I, a poor old blind lady, will see through the disguise you put on daily… " she said in a rough tone and to Hope's relief she released her wrist, feeling that she was fighting a loosing battle.
With a shuddering breath she staggered back and griped the dusty corner of a desk, her white knuckles becoming even whiter. What the old woman had said was true. She was afraid. She feared that her plan would fail, she feared that Evan would win, but most of all, she feared that she would lose the last traces of humanity she had left in the process. No one understood, not even Noah, the burden that had been placed on her shoulders by powers out of her control. For mere humans the magnitude of what she had to do on a daily basis was lost, and Hope was not only thinking about her involvement with death. To her mind, she was meant to be a guardian, a defender of the status quo while aiming to fulfil the wish of her ancestors. That role, which sometimes made her feel like the entire world was placed upon her shoulders, was the one that positioned a glass wall between herself and others and never allowed her to make more than limited contact with normal human beings. Noah had been an exception. He had been the one for whom she had allowed a small break in her armour, but even he had failed to comprehend the importance of who and what she was. And now, despite her better efforts, she felt like she was losing him more and more every day. She feared that and so many other things so what the old woman had said was true.
Hope's hand trembled and for the first time in her life she considered whether what she had been doing, her mission, the true essence of her existence was morally right. There were so many implications to what her purpose was, the fact that she was being doomed to take one soul after another being one of them. Probably the least important, truth be told. There were many things that no one apart from herself and maybe the shrivelled blind woman in front of her knew. Calming down and feeling the blue usual blue colour of her eyes return, she looked at her latest victim. The blind woman's stare was still unfocused, her face was contorted in a grimace and her frail chest rose and fell gently. Fighting back every single ounce of resentment she felt, Hope once again came close to the woman and placed her hand upon the clammy forehead giving her eternal release.
Amelia Cackle was not used to waking up in the dead of night, knowing that this habit was reserved to her thoroughly workaholic deputy. Yet, that particular day, for an unknown reason, maybe her cheese craving had been too much or maybe the miserable weather had finally gotten to her, her sleeping pattern suddenly changed and at four o'clock in the morning, the headmistress found herself in her crammed office, a steaming cup of tea in hand, pondering all the things she had to do when the girls and her staff woke up. Despite appearances, running the Academy was no walk in the park and the woman was well aware that she had a lot of paperwork and reports to tend to, together with surveying the changes in the curriculum proposed by the Witches Guild and reading the carefully formulated written notes and comments that Constance had made on their new student teacher's performance. In spite of all the things that were different, Amelia thought that life at Cackle's had regained some form of normality during the past week. Their new potions student teacher, despite her apprehension, had adjusted well to the life within the academy and no further incidents, apart from the one on her first day of teaching, had occurred. The third year girls seemed to respond well to her easy-going style and her almost non-existent discipline, relishing in the fact that Hope seemed to be confident in their abilities and awarded them a brand of trust with which they were not used to. Even Constance, although sceptical at first, appeared to somewhat accept the presence of the younger woman and have a limited amount of confidence in her ability. It also helped that during her first potions lesson the woman had given sufficient proof that she was more than able to handle any type of disaster that might occur, even if her flamboyant method of dealing with an exploding potion gave rise to some questions.
Deciding that it was too early to delve into the Academy's business, Amelia quickly looked upon the mess of papers that was covering her small desk to find something to pass time. Under old records and piles of junk mail, the flashy new pamphlets and books that Dr Elwood had brought quickly caught her eye and with a trembling hand she extracted the carefully constructed package. Although he had explained, to the best of his abilities, what her deputy's condition and her duties as a caregiver involved, being as prudent as ever, Noah had decided to bring further material for the headmistress and the rest of the staff to study. Yet, like so many other things that were gracing her desk Amelia had ignored them, not because she was uninterested in what Constance was going through but because a part of her was afraid of what she was going to find out from those shiny impersonal pages. Deciding then was as good a time as any other, the head of the Academy took one of the small books at random and started to look at it intensely.
End of life care in heart failure: framework for implementation
As she was looking at the cover of the light book it wasn't the morbid title, which obviously implied a fatal dénouement, that caught her eye but the picture of an old man, obviously at the end of his natural life, trying to smile a toothless grin that did not reach his blue eyes covered by thickly-rimmed glasses, that stood beneath the title. She felt a sharp pang of pain not at how sad and withered he looked but at how old he was and how that contrasted in such a painful way with Constance's relative youth. Although Amelia was well aware that her deputy was no child, she usually associated this kind of disease with much older people. She barely admitted it to herself but she shuddered to think that one day Constance might look as frail and hopeless as the man on the cover of the small blue book.
Despite therapeutic advances, heart failure remains a progressive, incurable and ultimately fatal long term condition which has a major effect on affected individuals and their families.
Once again, the fatalistic message sent by those words terrified her, not only because it talked of a terrible situation in which those who were sick and those close to them were put but also because it once again made it blatantly obvious that apart from her life in the academy, Constance had nothing else. In all the years she had known her deputy, Amelia had never dared to ask her about her family. As the woman never mentioned her mother, father or any siblings and usually spent her holidays behind the protective walls of Cackle's Academy, the headmistress supposed that any close relative she might have had was long gone from this world. When she had met Constance for the first time she had been the same as she was now, albeit almost fifteen years younger. She remembered clearly the day that the thin, tall young woman of twenty with her long hair in a bun and her face set in an unyielding strict expression, which did not match her years, entered her office. She had been conducting interviews for the recently opened position of Potions Teacher (the former one had retired at the venerable age of eighty four mostly because she was senile) and didn't exactly have many expectations from the candidates. Not being a school with prestige, the teachers that looked for positions at Cackle's were mildly competent at the best of times. She was about to settle for an older lady who had just finished sending her eight child to Weird Sister College when Constance walked in and asked whether the position was still available. What struck the headmistress back then wasn't her impressive and impeccable resume but the look of utter sadness that the younger woman tried to hide behind an impassive façade. She looked like a lost and scared child and Amelia knew instantly that for Miss Hardbroom Cackle's was a lifeline. She instinctively knew that not giving the recently graduated potions teacher the available position would be like killing her with her own two hands.
Recognition that end of life care does not stop at the point of death.
Doctor Elwood had been reluctant to give a prognosis for Constance and the way in which her disease progressed, but Amelia knew at the bottom of her heart that the future wasn't exactly bright for her. She wondered for a second if Constance had any preference for any funeral rituals. It was an awful thought and she wished nothing better than to discard it but in the light of what was happening it was impossible to put aside such practical matters. As pedantic and pragmatic as her deputy was, she knew for certain that she had thought of the same matters herself. Amelia wondered for a second who, apart from the staff, would come to the funeral if it was to come to that. She knew that her deputy, under the cold exterior she showed to the world, was a caring person who was capable of the warmest feelings towards those around her. Sadly, very few people took time to look behind the perfectly placed mask and get to truly know the deputy.
Death may occur at a time of crisis, even when being transported to hospital or in the A & E department.
Despite being one of the most morbid things she had ever read in her life, that last phrase was the one that made the woman truly acknowledge the dire situation they were confronted with. She had known that the death of her deputy was a possibility, but seeing written, black on white made her realize that it was something she could expect. No. It was something she needed to expect and be mentally prepared for.
Upon noticing that the light was on at an hour which was strictly reserved for her, Constance entered the headmistress' office and was surprised to see the older woman bent over a book of some sort, a deep look of anguish clearly written on her wrinkled face. For the first time in the fifteen years she had known the woman, Amelia seemed old and defeated. Soundlessly, Constance approached the headmistresses' desk and closed the object that was provoking such sorrow. As she had a copy of her own, she easily recognised the thin book that Miss Cackle was reading and understood the cause of that intense turmoil. Amelia raised her head and looked at Constance with unshed tears in her eyes. She knew that her deputy would probably abhor such weakness and would thoroughly blame herself for being the cause of it, but she could no longer contain the wave of empathy that was threatening to come crushing out in the form of salty tears. Trying to stop her treacherous eyes from showing her grief, she watched her much too young deputy's impassable face as she read the title of the pamphlet without showing any kind of emotion.
"You don't deserve this…" Amelia whispered softly before she could stop herself. At that precise moment, showing neither fear nor distress, Constance seemed even more impressive than usual.
"No one gets what they deserve. Whatever we get, be it good or bad, we find a way to cope with it. It is the way in which we cope that matters…" Miss Hardbroom replied, a fait trace of an encouraging smile gracing her pale, ghost-like features.
While they were trying to stir their potions counter-clockwise and were listening to Miss Hawthorne's soft, low voice, Maud and Enid alternatively cast worried glances towards Mildred. It had been more than a week since the nightmare incident and their friend still seemed somewhat out of sorts. What was worse was that instead of coming to them and asking for help, she was more aloof than ever. They had know her for almost three years and during all the adventures, dangerous or not, that they had been trough, Mildred had always been the one to be open about what she thought or felt, knowing that her two best friends, together with Ruby and Jadu, had her back. Yet now, she progressively locked her emotions up, looking as if she was afraid to share them and the two girls did not understand why. Of course, her actions during that night, hugging HB and having a nightmare she remembered nothing about were strange to say the least. But no matter how confused Millie was, the two girls still thought that she should have come to them and that together they would have sorted the problem.
"I still think we should talk to someone about it…" Maud said whispered softly, looking towards Mildred in an inconspicuous fashion
"We've been through this before, if Mille doesn't want to say anything, we can't force her…She will come out of it, eventually" Enid replied in the same low voice, frustration clear in her tone.
"Enid, my room is right next to hers. I hear her crying every night!" the other girl responded in an exasperated voice, knowing that despite appearances Enid did understand the seriousness of the situation.
"And who do you want to tell?" Enid whispered while throwing her friend worried looks.
"I don't know… An adult. Maybe one of the teachers"
"And what exactly do you think they will do? Miss Drill is too caught up with her new boyfriend to care, Miss Bat is bonkers, Miss Cackle will talk a lot but do little and HB has been looking like death warmed over for weeks. I think she will break into pieces if we go to her with further problems. Plus, if Mille doesn't want to talk to us, what makes you think she would talk to any of them? " Enid turned to face Maud and replied softly, failing to notice that Ethel was discretely turned towards their friend's cauldron and was softly muttering under her breath. Had any of them been more careful they would have avoided the start of a series of events that would change certain lives forever.
When she cast a Boiling Spell on Mildred's cauldron making her potion inflate and blow up, Ethel Hallow merely thought that she was playing a harmless prank on the person she had come to regard as her arch enemy. She couldn't have known what dire long term consequences her actions would have. She couldn't have known that such a silly prank would put them into a situation that would make them almost wish for death. A few days after, when she looked back on the chain of events that the simple spell had triggered she could remember the greenish potion boil, Maud and Enid jump like lionesses next to their friend and try to stop the cauldron from exploding while throwing accusations and mild hexes towards her. She could recall that, in a fit of anger, she had retaliated and that Mildred's exploding potion had been once again stopped by a brilliant circle of red flames.
Hope absolutely despised mornings feeling way more productive in the dead of the night. Maybe if it wouldn't have been nine o'clock in the morning she would have reacted differently and she would have avoided putting their lives in danger. Yet, at that particular moment, when she was tired, stressed and angry at the immaturity of the girls she thought that putting them in detention in the potion lab later in the evening was the right thing to do. She couldn't have predicted what would happen in the future. No one could have.
Before going back into the bedroom of one of his multiple houses, Evan Mallard entered his office and opened the second to last drawer of the dark oak desk. There, with the easiness of well-practiced moves he extracted the object he was looking for. He had kept the picture frame and the photo on a whim and hadn't looked at it in years. Yet, now, because of certain events, thoroughly suppressed memories began plaguing him, and he felt the urge to look at it again. From the confines of the silver picture frame, a young girl smiled at him, her long black hair being blown by the wind. He was well aware that he wasn't a kind and gentle man. He knew that his first impulses would always be of a cruel and merciless nature, but a long time ago he had met a woman for whom he had been willing to alter that. For her he had been willing to change and become a better person. But she had left him. And when she left to walk on her path, so very different from his, she had taken away the last trace of kindness from his soul. He looked at the photo and felt a mixture of disgust, at his own weakness, of regret, at what had happened and, to his surprise, of undiminished love. Shaking his head at his own stupidity, he carefully placed the frame back in its drawer and walked towards the bed where his newest conquest was waiting for him.
"Anything new at Cackle's "Evan said in a falsely cheerful tone and caressed the tan skin, playfully kissing a naked thigh
"Nothing much. You know the usual things going on… Oh, we do have a new potion student teacher… " she said carelessly, light-heartedly biting his earlobe
"Really… And how is this new teacher like? " he asked in the same apparently careless manner, his heart beating forcefully in his chest.
"Oh… you would like her, she is very pretty… " Imogen said tauntingly relishing in the way in which he stroked her thigh
"Is she?" he purred softly, trying to hide his interest.
"Yes… She looks like a model or a Hollywood actress…" Imogen continued her mock-jealous act while Evan kept kissing her neck and arms. "If I think a bit about it, she kind of reminds me of you…"
"Does she?" he asked genuinely surprised as being told that he was similar to Hope was something that rarely happened. " How come?"
"It's just the air that she has about her… it's mysterious and aristocratic. And she knows how to be pleasant and polite without getting too close to people. You do that too" she felt his hands stop for a second and wondered if maybe what she had said had been wrong.
"I do? I've never noticed" he feigned disinterest.
"Yes, you do. The first time that I met you, despite the fact that I took an instant liking to you, and that you were so polite and pleasant, you were rather cold. As if you were afraid to let people in… Are you?" she suddenly asked in a serious voice
"What?" he asked slightly defensively
"Afraid to let people come into your life…" Imogen explained wanting to know more about the man that had come into her life so very suddenly
"My pet, I believe we have better things to do than engage in a full-blown psychoanalysis" he smoothly change the subject, a sly grin lighting up his features. "Now… where did I put the whipped cream?"
Noah took a deep breath and entered the now familiar room in Cackle's Academy. While he was more than happy to have a respite from having to deal with the issues his mother had, the entire charade was beginning to become bothersome for him for one sole reason. During his school years and his internship he had met both girls and women but had never managed to get romantically involved, past the physical point, with any of them. Only two women, who were not his mother, had managed to have a claim on the doctor's affections. The first one was Hope. The second one was, as surprising as it may sound as the time they had spent together had been limited, Constance Hardbroom.
At first, he suspected that whatever emotion he sensed whenever he was around the stern woman, was because she was the first patient, beside his mother, he had treated in such a long time. Furthermore, having such a connection with Hope and all that was at stake because of that connection invariably endeared her to him and made him wish for the best to happen. Yet, at a closer analysis of his feelings, Noah knew that there was much more. He was attracted to her not because of the circumstances they both found themselves into but because of who she was as a person. In the little time they had spent together, he had managed to see behind the stern, stoic mask she put on every day. He had seen the true Constance Hardbroom, the kind, fragile, vulnerable woman who wished the world for others and so little for herself.
Already used to what had become almost routine, the potions mistress sat on her bed and opened the top buttons of her black dress. While before she would have been positively horrified at the prospect of a man being in her private room, let alone touching her, due to Dr Elwood's frequent check-ups she not only got used to his presence but also felt a tremble of emotion and trepidation whenever she was with him. With sure hands he placed his doctor's bag on the floor, took a stethoscope and sat next to her, gently motioning the woman to turn. His manly, big, rough hands seemed so very gentle whenever they approached her and placed the cold item on her skin, as if he was handling a precious object, maybe a porcelain doll, and did not want to break it.
As he listened to the faint beats of her heart, he looked into her deep dark eyes that had come to haunt his dreams almost every night. It was the worst possible scenario for he knew that firstly, it would do doctors little good to be attached to patients, and secondly because he felt like he was betraying Hope. Although the thought of a romantic involvement with the younger woman had barely crossed his mind when he had first met her, in the same why that it strikes any normal male upon seeing a fairly attractive woman, he knew that he was, to some extent, deceiving her trust and endangering the friendship that they had. Hope had never been straightforward with him about her powers, her mission or the ring business, but he had managed to read between the lines and he knew that no matter what her motives were, the woman's interest in the Academy in general and in Constance Hardbroom in particular were more than important. He didn't wish to be the one who involuntarily interfered with her plans for he knew that while she appeared gentle and kind, Hope could also be vengeful and cruel if one got in her way. Yet, ever since they came to Cackle's a surge of rebellion had been rising in his chest and he felt less and less inclined to go forward with whatever his friend asked of him. He wanted to know more, he wanted have the answers he deserved. Still he knew that even if he plucked up the courage to ask her, Hope would smile her sweet half-smile and would give a vague response.
Not knowing what possessed him, he inclined his head and moved his face towards her. This was so unlike his usually less than impulsive character, but the woman facing him stirred so many emotions that were unknown to him and were almost uncontainable. With gentleness he did not know he had, he softly pressed his lips to hers and could feel her otherwise straight posture relax slightly. It wasn't a long or passionate kiss. The way in which their lips met was more like a greeting, like a beginning, like an acceptance from both parts. As if stunned by what had happened, she allowed him to take her hand and kiss it with the same sense of respect which bordered on veneration. He bowed his head, as if in shame, not meeting her dark eyes instead choosing to focus his attention to the hard wood floor, and she looked at the unruly mess of brown curls with a strange sense of affection. With the gracefulness only she possessed, she lifted her pale left hand and allowed her fingers tangle themselves in his brown hair. Constance could feel her heart beat wildly against her ribs and a wave of heat raise to her otherwise pale complexion. She did not know what to make of what had happened, she did not know if she was ready for something like this to happen. All that she knew was that she liked the feeling of his soft hair against her fingertips and didn't feel the need to retrieve her hand or to break their awkward embrace.
With her distant, cold stare unbroken Hope would have seemed as the picture of nonchalance, looking at the gloomy courtyard of Overblow castle, had she not been standing as stiff as a plank of wood. She did not mean to enter Noah's mind or once again invade his privacy in such a way, but the wave of pure emotion akin to nothing she had ever felt in her entire life, hit her with full force and it scared her. She had known Noah for so long that she knew that he wasn't the kind of man to get easily attached to women and the fact that this particular woman stirred such feelings troubled her to no end. Not because she didn't want him to be happy. Not because she was afraid of losing his loyalty and devotion. Because she knew he would invariably be hurt.
As she was only teaching the third year girls, Hope had a lot of time on her hands which she spent getting to know the staff of the Academy and pondering her actions. During her first week masquerading as a potions teacher, she had tried to make both the staff and the students like her as much as possible, not because she had any qualms with being disliked by people but because she was realistic enough to know that they could be useful allies in whatever course of action she needed to take. She had seen them all and had, to some degree, liked them all despite their quirks. All but one. She wasn't the kind of person to easily have any type of feelings towards others, but as she analyzed each of them and saw them interact in their environment she immediately decided that she would never, ever like or truly be friends with the deputy. Of course, she needed to form a connection with her and for that to happen she needed the woman to trust her. Hope put on sweet smiles and spoke with the woman feigning the upmost respect when inside she hated her, not because the woman had done anything to her, but because of who she was and what she represented.
Constance watched with an impassive look on her face as the new addition to Cackle's staff stood in the middle of the staff room with feigned nonchalance. She did not know what to make of the girl. On the one hand, the girl had a sweet air about her and offered everyone a kind word or a smile. As if she knew, or at least she suspected, the situation she found herself in, Hope made a special effort to be extra nice to the stoic Miss Hardbroom and the potions mistress had to admit that if the girl was dishonest, she was an amazing actress. No matter how hard she looked, the deputy could not find any trace of falsity in what the younger woman had said or did during her time at Cackle's. On the other hand, there was the matter of the woman's incriminating hands. That, coupled with her apparent friendliness and sincerity, together with the fact that the girls seemed to have taken to her, unnerved and worried Constance to no end.
"Have you ever been in love, Miss Hardbroom?" the girl's clear voice was heard from next to her and Constance faced the younger woman surprised that the girl had heard her enter and had known that she was there, not knowing how to answer such a personal question. Despite herself, Constance felt her face flush slightly, what had happened with Noah coming to her mind involuntarily. Hope noticed the slight coloration of the woman's cheeks and for the first time in a week her eyes had lost their warmth and turned as cold as ice.
"I see…" Hope muttered softly under her breath, her words eluding the teacher. With a polite nod of her head and her marble-like features set into a falsely benevolent smile, she turned on her heels and left the staff room in a hurry, leaving a confused Constance behind.
From her first week as a pretence potions teacher, Hope decided that being an educator was no easy business and her respect for all those that worked as teachers increased exponentially with every lesson she tried to teach. It wasn't that the girls were unruly or did not pay attention, on the contrary. They did seem to be quite taken to her. The problem lay in the fact that she had to find a way to make whatever she said as interesting as possible, mostly because she did not want to spoil her cover as a dedicated potions teacher, especially as the dour potion mistress seemed to slowly, but surely, come to form a connection with her. That together with her worries regarding the developing relationship between Miss Hardbroom and Noah and the stress of performing her usual duties had rendered, for the first time in a long while, the young woman tired.
Through a quick SMS she had asked Noah to meet her at Cosy's not only because she was in a dire need of coffee that wasn't already cold by the time it got to her but also because she wanted to confront her friend on his actions and feelings. Truth be told she felt angry and betrayed and seeing the doctor's calm, peaceful smile didn't exactly do anything to quiet down her worries.
"How's it going?"
"I didn't kill anyone yet, so I guess everything is going all right…" she answered in all seriousness, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You are angry" Noah stated simply, noticing the way in which her hand trembled with rage as she took the coffee cup and raised it to her lips
"Why would I be angry?" she answered in the same mocking tone, feigning ignorance
"You know" he replied with the same nonchalance "Don't even pretend that you don't, because I could feel you"
"Then why do you ask me pointless questions?" she rhetorically asked, trying to contain the feeling of pure rage that was coursing through her veins
"Are you jealous?" Noah rose his green eyes from his cup and met her blue ones
"Don't be a fool" she snapped "Why would I be jealous?"
"You wouldn't. That's why I don't understand your reaction. As my friend, you should be happy rather than angry" he said in the same low monotone and watched Hope take a long calming breath.
"As your friend I have the right to be concerned" she replied in a much calmer voice "I don't want you to get hurt, Noah"
"Why would I get hurt, Hope?" he rose his eyebrows, his eyes questioning his friend.
"You know why…" she answered bitterly lowering her eyes, not standing his almost accusing stare
"The problem is that I don't. You always expect me to go along with your schemes and you never bother explaining more than half the things that you have to do… So tell me, Hope: why will I get hurt?" he allowed his tone to raise slightly, repressed feelings of irritation clear in his low voice
"I wish I could…" she muttered almost inaudibly
"You don't trust me…" his eyes widened in realization and he looked at the person he had considered his best friend for more than ten years in a new light. For a moment which seemed like an eternity, Hope looked like when he had first met her; a cold, aloof person who played with human life for her own amusement. A person that he had no desire of knowing.
"As you are now? No. I don't trust you" she answered honestly. She raised her eyes and could clearly see the magnitude of her words written on his shocked features. When he abruptly stood up, threw some money on the table to cover the bill and promptly left the café, she did not bother to stop him. Instead she continued to sip her bitter coffee looking into the distance that wasn't there.
Davina Bat was by nature a person who sought happiness for both herself and others around her, and the highest form of happiness, according to the chanting teacher was being romantically involved with a special someone. One such person was her new acquaintance, whose careless kind character made her endearing and who she had easily come to see as a friend. In what she thought to be a discrete manner, she had asked Hope on countless occasions, during their casual chats in the staff room, about whether she had a special person in her life or not and the girl's negative answer saddened her greatly. Being gifted with the overacting imagination of an artist, Davina saw the young addition to Cackle's staff much in the same way she used to regard Constance: like a mystic beauty who could render men powerless at her feet. Of course, it also helped that, unlike the fearsome deputy, the girl seemed to be warm and open to affection. As such, she had derived the greatest pleasure from discovering her newest friend being in the company of a certain doctor.
As she entered the staff room, softly singing to herself, Davina almost forgot that she had missed her weekly treat of Cosy cream buns in favour of allowing the two a certain amount of privacy. The chanting teacher entered the room, frilly dress swirling about her and beaming smile lighting up the old features. The only other occupant of the room stood in her trademark straight manner at her desk and tried to focus her attention on some papers in front of her. Although Constance was quite busy with her own thoughts, which mostly revolved about what had passed earlier between herself and Noah, she could not help but notice the gaiety with which her colleague had come in. Even if Miss Bat was as random as the weather at the best of times, it was quite strange for her to openly display that magnitude of joy for apparently no reason. It was as if the woman begged to be asked.
"May I ask why you are so very happy, Miss Bat?" Constance indulged her in a dour fashion, dearly hoping that the other teacher would not launch into a story about flowers or birds or Mongolian chants.
"I just so the most wonderful thing…" Davina said in her sing-song voice, playing with the frills of her blouse
"Which is?" Constance's low, impatient tone contrasted powerfully with that of her artistic counterpart but it didn't seem to deter the joy of the other woman.
"It seems that love is blooming in the heart of our newest friend…" Miss Bat declared with passion and was disappointed to see Constance raise a questioning eyebrow "I just saw Hope in the company of Doctor Elwood in Cosy's and they looked so comfortable together. I saw the look in his eyes, he looked at her with such admiration and adoration…"
Davina dragged on and on, explaining what she had seen but Constance was no longer listening to her. Once again, she felt betrayed by her own mind and heart. She was supposed to be indifferent to whatever Dr Elwood did. There were no promises between them, there was nothing to bind them, there was little, apart from what had happened that morning, to recommend that a bond was forming. As such, she was surprised to feel her heart constrict painfully at the thought of Noah and the new student teacher in a potential liaison. In the swirl of emotions that was engulfing her she did not even stop to ponder how suspicious it was that the two even knew each other. She couldn't think of that for, in a rare show of self doubt, she could only consider all the ways in which the younger woman was different to her. Of course he had chosen her. She was young and beautiful. Full of life and healthy. Had impeccable style and an air of confidence and arrogance that suited her just right. In short, she was everything that Constance was not, and despite her wishes to be the better person, she could not help but resent the girl for it.
"Is Hope going to take the detention of the third year girls, or should I go?" Imogen entered the room and asked hastily, not noticing the almost compact waves of anger and disappointment coming from the deputy.
"Why do they have detention?" Constance snapped, being furious at herself for not knowing. It felt like everything that was happening was dulling her senses and made her careless.
"They blew up a couple of cauldrons in potions as a prank… " Imogen answered dismissingly and Constance could feel once again a cloud of guilt engulf her.
She had planned on countless times to discuss Hope's apparently lax authority and utter lack of concern for safety but she had allowed herself to get distracted and never mentioned anything. The fact that once again the girl had been unable to avoid an incident worried her to no end and although she rationally knew that it wasn't her fault , Constance felt like it was her duty to talk with the young student teacher. Miss Hawthorne's carefree nature together with her benevolent character had endeared her to every member of the staff and had dulled the suspicions that the deputy herself had. Now, when once again she had put the safety of her students on the line, Miss Hardbroom's initial suspicions returned full force and the woman felt entitled to manifest her rage. As she quietly exited the staff room and made her way towards the potions laboratory, Constance realized that maybe the girls' disregard for safety wasn't the only thing that made her want to show some form of authority and superiority towards her. Never in a million years would she admit it to anyone, not even herself, but part of her need streamed from what she had heard from Davina about the student teacher and Doctor Elwood.
Mildred took a moment to steady herself and gather her thoughts before knocking on the dark wooden door. She had thought long and hard before she had come to the conclusion that the new potions teacher could explain what was happening to her and that she could be trusted to keep everything in the strictest confidence. True enough, Miss Hawthorne had only been in the academy for a week and under normal circumstances that would not be enough for Millie to trust this person. But this woman was different. She emanated a certain sense of truthfulness and easy confidence that not only made her likable but also made her feel approachable. Of course, the student had thought about asking for explanations from the other members of the staff but, no matter how hard she twisted and turned the various possibilities, the new potions teacher was still the optimal variant. Going to Miss Drill, even if she would lend a compassionate ear, would be, for obvious reasons, positively useless. Miss Bat would probably praise her talent and unnecessarily fuss about it. Miss Cackle would give a long boring lecture about magical powers and responsibility but offer no real explanation, because, Mildred suspected, she did not have one. No. To get some valuable information about something that even Cackle's extensive library did not cover, she needed a powerful, well-versed witch. She needed HB. Miss Hardbroom, although not the most understanding person in the world, was indubitably the most knowledgeable witch she knew and she was pretty certain that she could have helped her. Yet, after what had happened during the night she had the nightmare she could remember nothing about, Mildred was reluctant to go face her form mistress. Thus, by process of elimination, she settled on talking to Miss Hawthorne before they had their scheduled detention with her. Although she hadn't known her long, the woman inspired a certain amount of trust and she could clearly see that she was a powerful and capable witch.
A shy knock on the wooden door dispelled the gloomy silence of the room and Hope rose her head from the third year Advanced Potions Textbook. Even if she wasn't too fond of her room in the Academy when she had returned from Cosy's, Hope had gone back to it to get some peace and quiet before the detention she needed to supervise. She had been thinking about her conversation with Noah and was well aware that she had been too harsh to him. The woman only hoped that she would be able to repair the harm done to their relationship by this incident.
"Come in!" she answered calmly and saw Mildred's tall frame enter the room, with a subdued and shy air about her "How can I help you, Mildred?"
"It's about what you said last week in class… about my drawing" she said in a meek voice and the face of the young teacher offered an encouraging smile.
"What about that, Mildred?" she said calmly, knowing where the conversation was going, thousands of questions running at the speed of lightning through her mind.
"Well, you said that it looked like it was going to leap off the page and come to life…" the student followed uncertainly
"Yes… "
"The thing is, Miss Hawthorne, I… My drawings… they do come to life…" here it was. She had said it and watched her new teacher's face for any sign that she considered her a raving lunatic.
"They do?" she said with a pleasant smile, as if the woman was expecting Mildred to say what she just said.
"Yes… and I was wondering if you knew why…" Mildred followed relived not only that the woman didn't seem to think she was mad but also that she seemed to believe her. Quietly, she showed her teacher the moving drawing of Tabby and her eyes widened slightly.
Hope took a deep breath, motioned Mildred to sit on one of the rickety old chairs, took out a cigarette from the white package on the nightstand, conjured an ashtray and lit it effortlessly with a wave of her hand. She had told herself many times that she would not allow this particular habit to become one of her more current ones, but ever since she had met the brave old man whose soul she had taken, she found that she took comfort in having a couple of cigarettes in her stressful moments. Despite appearing to be a normal, calm conversation between a student and a teacher this definitely qualified as one of those uneasy moments that required a cigarette. Hope knew, or better said, suspected why Mildred was able to make her drawings come to life but she did not know whether it would be prudent or not to reveal the true reason to the girl. On one hand, the student seemed to be a loyal and sweet girl who had the potential to be a useful ally. On the other hand, revealing such knowledge to someone so very young and whose allegiances were not exactly set in stone could prove dangerous. With a slow drag of the burning cigarette she made her mind to offer a censored version of the story.
"Do you know what magic is made of, Mildred?" she asked calmly and the girl shook her head "Magic, or rather magical energy, is a product of the four primordial elements: Air, Fire, Earth and Water. It is because of these forces that magic as we know it today exist. They come together in an unbroken balance to form the magical core in a witch or wizard." The student nodded her head in understanding and with a smile Hope followed her explanation "Even if a magical person or being has all four elements within themselves and they come together rather than manifest by themselves, some special witches or wizards have an affinity towards a particular element and its proprieties and are able to use it in its purest form"
"Like you have towards Fire?" she deduced, understanding how the woman was able to produce those impressive flames and protect them from the two exploding potions.
"Precisely" she answered, omitting the fact that for her it was more than a mere affinity towards that particular element and that, normally there should have been only two people in the entire world that were able to control the purest form of the Elements.
"What does this have to do with my drawings?" Millie asked shyly
"I will get to that in a second. As I said, there are witches and wizards that have an affinity towards an Element and are able to use it in its untamed, unaltered form. Also, there are those who borrow the characteristics of their affinity and have a power which is slightly… unusual. Each of the four primordial Elements represents something both metaphorically and in nature. For example, Fire has always been used as a symbol of cleansing, of retribution and of purification. It is an element that both destroys and protects. It is the element of transformation. Earth is a symbol for worldly matters, matters of the flesh. It governs the world of humans, who according to lore are all made of clay. Air is the element of spiritual matters, of matters of the mind. Thoughts pass through our minds much in the same way that clouds pass on the sky; bore by air. It is also an element associated with giving life and with creation. And then there is Water, an element which governs emotions like empathy, love and compassion. Like Fire is connected to the Sun, Water is also connected to the Moon and because of that they are polar opposites both in their natures and in their purposes…" Hope refrained from telling her just how important those elements wore and what the man that managed to wield them all was capable of. Even if Mildred had been able to understand her, which she seriously doubted, she didn't need to be burdened with such dangerous knowledge.
"I am sorry, Miss Hawthorne, but I don't really understand what this has to do with my drawings…" the student said softly
"Well, maybe I didn't explain it well enough or maybe you didn't pay attention, it doesn't matter… Wasn't I telling you about an element that governs life and matters of the mind?" the pretence teacher scolded mildly and the girl's eyes widened in realization.
"Air?" she whispered softly, her eyes looking at the now still drawing of Tabby she had brought with her.
"Yes, Mildred…I believe, no, I am almost certain, that you have the power to manipulate the powers of Air…" she said softly, her eyes gleaming in satisfaction.
Hope had thought it to be impossible. Of course, she had read the legends passed down from generation to generation but she had never thought it to be true. Few of the people who had an interest in the occult and in magic had heard the lore of the old man who had split his power among his children and had created the four Elemental Masters. Even fewer knew that these four siblings fought among themselves and that the Master of Water gained Air while the Master of Fire gained Earth. And she was sure that only two people, Evan and herself, had heard that apparently, before his death, the master of Air had fathered a child who was the true heir to his mystical element. And yet, the living proof of the truthfulness of what she had believed to be merely an old wife's tale stood right in front of her, her eyes wide in surprise and her hands shakings slightly. The only weakness that the Master of Water had, the only one who, by right of blood, could deprive him of the powers of Air, stood before her eyes shocked that for once she was special.
At dusk, Overblow Castle painted a terrifying shape on the reddish shy. With its pointed towers and ample shape, it looked like a dormant giant ready to attack. Evan took a deep breath, and prepared himself for what he was going to do. He had been thinking about it for quite some time and decided that now that Hope had come in contact with the woman she was looking for, it was unavoidable. He had found the curse in one of the ancient tomes of his library and he knew that it was one of the few spells that could only be cast by him and him alone. No matter how hard she tried Hope would not be able to stop it for it was part of his ancestral heritage.
Raising his hands, his eyes shining a brilliant white colour, he invoked the ancient powers whose heir he was and saw how a white glow engulfing Overblow Castle. When the building seemed to absorb the magic, he wiped the beads of sweat formed on his forehead and took a moment to look at his handiwork. No one would believe him, but he was genuinely sorry. He didn't know how many would be caught in the charm's web, it strictly depended on the number of people that Hope was with when the curse took effect. He wished there weren't that many for he knew that some of them would pay the ultimate price for merely being in her presence.
He wasn't a particularly religious man. In fact, he hardly believed in the existence of a God. Yet, at that exact moment, he raised a prayer to the heavens. Maybe, just maybe, someone will hear it and he will be forgiven.
When the deputy head of the academy had entered the classroom, Hope instinctively knew that the woman was positively furious and wanted nothing better than throttle her with her bare hands. After all, it was under her watch that the girls had managed, for the second time in a week to wreak havoc in the potions lab with an explosion. In her defence and in a rare show of authority, she had given the culprits, or better said, all those involved, namely Ethel, Maud, Enid and Mildred a detention which, when the woman came frothing, she was in the process of supervising. Furthermore, she also felt that she had been too harsh with the girls, assigning them to both clean the laboratory until it was returned to its original state and also write an extensive essay about the need to be careful while mixing potions and the perils of trying to sabotage your class mates' concoction. In her view, Hope thought that she had handled the situation well, but judging by the murderous glare in Miss Hardbroom's , the woman had a different opinion.
"Miss Hawthorne, can we have a quiet word?" Constance said glacially, her tone dangerously low and authoritarian. She had known from the first day that the girl might be a danger for the students and that she might be unable to control them properly, but honestly, how incapable could she be to allow two explosions of that magnitude happen in the span of a week.
"Girls, you can finish your essays in your own time… You are dismissed." Hope said calmly, not exactly appreciating the harsh tone that was being directed at her and noticing that the four students were already throwing the two women interested looks.
Constance watched how the girls quietly gathered their things, sensing danger brewing in the air and were now throwing sympathetic looks towards the student teacher. She gently tapped her fingers against the wooden desk waiting for them to get out of the classroom to start her tirade. The woman towards whom her anger was directed, leaned calmly in her seat, legs crossed and was showing a growing interest in her perfectly manicured red nails. Yet another point that Constance was going to have to bring forth in their discussion.
"Miss Hardbroom? Miss Hawthorne? We can't open the door…" Maud's voice said shyly, her hand on the handle, pushing it furiously as if to demonstrate her words.
Hope looked up from her nails with a mocking stare, a slight smile gracing her thin lips and Constance sighed softly under her breath, and moved in long strides towards the door. Why was everyone around her so very incompetent? How could these girls be expected to become university-level witches in less than two years, if they were unable to open a door? She made her way through the four students and forcefully pushed the handle with no result. Several attempts later, she realized that Maud was right. The door was locked.
Author's Note:
What do you say? Was it worth the wait? I am so proud of myself for writing a (hopefully interesting) chapter in which HB isn't coughing up blood, fainting, dying of exhaustion…etc. I don't know if I ever mentioned this, but despite appearances I truly love Constance and I only make her suffer for the greater good (not exactly certain what the greater good is, probably your entertainment, but I am sure there is one). Anyway, if you want to comment on something / ask questions / yell at me for being so very late / or just randomly talk about stuff, feel free to contact me either through reviews or private messaging. I will reply to you as soon as possible.
Next Chapter: An old friend comes to Cackle's, Hope and Constance realize just how bad their situation is while the other staff members are doing everything in their power to help the two women and the four students.