‘What is happening?’ Thomas jolted forward, but Clio tightened her grip. She didn’t know how to defeat the viscount, but she knew they needed to stay together.
She lifted her free hand, their combined power lighting a blueflame in the centre of her palm. Furrowing her brow, she changed the flame’s form into an arrow. With a flick of her eyes, it flew, embedding itself into the viscount before he could launch another attack on his wife and daughter.
He howled a chilling scream and turned, the arrow flickering and then dissolving. But it achieved her goal of claiming the ghost’s attention.
His silver gaze narrowed on Clio. ‘I thought you could help me. But I don’t need you to avenge me. Not any more.’ The viscount threw a ball of black, roiling rage that crashed into Clio’s shield, shattering the dome.
She couldn’t destroy the viscount. Her oath to do no harm held true for all, even the poisonous spirit of a dead madman. But she could contain him.
She’d never attempted such powerful magic alone. Thomas tightened his grip, squeezing her fingers and reminding her he was right there with her. She didn’t have her coven, but she had him, and he was somehow fuelling her magic.
‘Thomas, we are going to bind him.’ She needed something to hold the ghost. A vessel to contain his soul. Her eyes caught on the doll clutched in Anna’s arm.
Sir Robin needed no instructions. He hopped over to the girl, grasping the doll in his claws and winging towards the ceiling. Anna’s eyes widened as her arms fell limply to her side. In a flurry of black feathers, Sir Robin returned to Clio, dropping the doll at her feet. She picked it up, letting her magic fill the doll with a blinding light.
Resuming his position on her shoulder, Sir Robin clacked his beak. ‘Bastard!’ But this time, he wasn’t talking about Thomas.
‘By air, earth, water, and fire, I bind Arthur’s spirit to this doll.’ Clio’s voice rang like a bell, resonant with power.
The viscount snarled. His chest expanded as he pulled darkness from the shadows of the room.
‘By air, earth, water, and fire, I bind you here to do no harm.’
Muttering his own curse, the viscount held out his hands, and the air between them began to bubble and boil like heated tar.
‘By air, earth, water, and fire, in this doll, you shall remain until you choose to leave this plane.’ She pushed her power into the spell, willing the words to wind around him like ivy.
Arthur lifted his hands, the sphere of black power hovering. ‘You will die screaming, witch.’
Clio repeated the spell, Thomas joining her. His deep voice lent power to her own as the viscount threw his vicious wrath in a jagged sphere of rage.
Clio countered his attack, launching her own blue spear of power that flew true and straight through the ball and into his stomach.
Arthur’s volley was aimed at her chest. Her spear did not stop the ball’s trajectory, but she hoped it might lessen the blow.
Thomas stepped in front of her, absorbing the orb. His body arced as if electrified. His hoarse cry ripped something in Clio.
Thomas fell to his knees.
The viscount pulled the spear free; it disappeared in his hands. He began muttering once more, weak but intent on his mission.
Fear and love amalgamated in the crucible of Clio’s heart. She needed to help Thomas, but the viscount had turned to his wife and Anna. He knew his time was running short, but he would kill them both before Clio could stop him.
‘Finish this,’ Thomas rasped, sinking to the floor, his body deathly still.
Fear for Thomas transformed into a clear purpose: contain the enemy. Save her love. Live happily ever after.
She lifted her head, narrowing her gaze on the viscount andcalling forth another column of fire that she transformed into a whip. ‘You will not hurt them!’ Cracking her power, she flung the whip’s sparking tongue at the viscount, wrapping the flame around him. ‘By air, earth, water, and fire, I bind you, Arthur Beachley.’ She repeated the chant; the whip tightened.
The viscount screamed. He tried to claw at the band of fire holding him captive, but the flames surged, blackening his ghostly skin.
Anna covered her ears, curling into a ball as her mother shielded her daughter with her body.
‘Now!’ she called to Sir Robin, flinging the doll up. The raven flew after it, catching it in mid-air and dropping it into the blaze engulfing the viscount. Swirling flame and smoke spiralled around the ghost until he became part of the inferno, his spirit dissolving into the fire that spun and crackled, sucking into the heart of the doll, a storm of power and fury imploding into the fluff-stuffed toy.
The doll dropped to the floor, spinning to a slow halt and pulsing brightly before it dulled back to worn cotton and wool.
Clio collapsed next to Thomas, her hands cradling his head. He was so still. His eyes were closed, and she couldn’t tell if his chest was expanding with breath.
