Isobelle didn’t bother to let him finish his monologue. She hurled the spell bottle with a grunt of effort, and it sailed through the air to smash … perfectly at his feet. The liquid splashed up onto Bingleton’s shins, and Gwen could have sworn she saw a golden light flash,though it might only have been the refraction of the firelight.
Bingleton leapt back with an oath. ‘What the hell! Damn it, do you have any idea how hard it is to launder velvet?’ he demanded, then flashed them a look of chagrin. ‘Pardon my language, ladies. What on earth was that for?’
‘A curse reversal,’ Isobelle shot back, panting slightly with mingled triumph and irritation at Bingleton’s flippant manner. ‘To end your hold on the town, on Gwen, and on Tabitha. Where is she? Tabitha!’ she called, her voice echoing. ‘Tabitha, we’re getting you out of here.’
Gwen stepped forward, sword levelled at Bingleton’s throat, but a strange feeling had begun to grip her, a sinking, wrenching ache that gathered in the pit of her stomach. Something wasn’t right. Still, she made herself speak. ‘It’s over, Bingleton.’
‘Tabitha?’ Bingleton echoed, retreating until he was pressed against the back of the armchair. ‘Oh! Your friend … I see! You’ve come to rescue her, have you? Well … I have no fear of your little curse removal. I can always cast another. She is bound to me, you see, for the ritual must take place if I am to bring back my beloved …’
‘Don’t let him regather his strength.’ From the shadows came a weak, agonised voice. Tabitha dragged herself into the circle of light, her face drawn with fear and weariness.The days of being Bingleton’s prisoner had not been kind to her. ‘Act now – strike!’
Gwen took a step forward, but that ache in her stomach held her back. At her side, Isobelle was staring at Bingleton, a frown furrowing her brow. ‘I think I would’ve felt …something,’ she was murmuring. ‘Something of the curse breaking …’
Gwen’s throat tightened. If the spell hadn’t worked, then there was all the more reason to follow through on their backup plan. She raised her sword.
Bingleton let out a loud, sharp bleat of alarm and dropped to the floor. ‘Whoa, whoa, time out!’ he cried, covering his head with his arms. ‘Okay, this is getting a bit too real – can we go back and try it again without the whole curse thing? You’re ruining my monologue.’
Gwen froze. ‘Try what again?’
Bingleton’s arms lowered a touch and he stared up at her, his eyes wide. ‘Sorry, I’m not as good on my feet as I’d thought … see, I wrote the whole necromancy thing, but I wasn’t prepared for you to bring in this other storyline about a curse. You’ve got to let the villain monologue, you know – you’ve got to hear the whole plan so it all makes sense.’
‘Don’t listen to him!’ cried Tabitha in poignant, frantic tones. ‘Strike him down now – this is how he gets inside your head …’
Bingleton looked from one of them to the other, mouth open, confusion wreathing his features. ‘Hang on, what’sgoing on? You didn’t come together? Wait, is this still part of the role-play?’
‘Role-play?’ Gwen repeated weakly.
‘It’s the crowning touch on the Galanty-Uponne-the-Sea Experience,’ Bingleton said proudly. ‘On the final night, we all play roles – visitors get to play the hero and come to the tower to face down the evil necromancer, played by yours truly, and there’s a whole …’ His voice trailed off, eyes moving between Gwen’s face and Isobelle’s. ‘I thought you’d got my invitation to try out the game, no?’
Gwen shifted her gaze from the cowering nobleman to the girl at the edge of the firelight, leaning against one of the pillars as though it was all that was holding her up. Tabitha’s eyes were bright, brilliant, her hair afire in the light, her gaze intent – brows raised, lips quivering with fear and anguish.
It was a brilliant performance.
She met Gwen’s gaze for one heartbeat, and then two.
Then her lips stopped quivering, she straightened and gave a whimsical little smile. ‘Well, I suppose that’s done it. All that quivering and wailing was giving me a headache anyway.’
A wave of dizziness swept through Gwen as full realisation came crashing down upon her with all the force and inevitability of the ocean itself. ‘It was you,’ she whispered. ‘All along … it wasyou.’ At her side, Isobelle bit back a cry of dismay and distress.
Bingleton looked between the three women, looking baffled. ‘Hang on, I’m lost. What do you mean, it was her? What’s been going on? I’ve been up here for days, working around the clock to get the tower ready … Is something going on in the town?’
Tabitha glanced dismissively at him. ‘Run along, little man. This doesn’t concern you.’
Bingleton drew himself up. ‘Hang on now, young lady, I’m not as bloody formal as my dad, but Iamstill lord of this town, and—’
Tabitha stepped into the light, her eyes bright and piercing. Her plain grey skirts seemed transformed by the light into wisps of living shadow, and her hair seemed to crackle with the firelight. She fixed her stare on Bingleton and advanced slowly, step by step.
‘You can either go, now, out the front door … or I can visit upon you a terror so profound, so unendingly torturous, that you’ll run screaming off the cliff rather than face another second of torment. It’s your choice.’
Gwen could feel it, the force of her power – her own heart quailed and shrivelled, a dark terror welling up inside her from that deep place that held all she could not face. Even without targeting her, Tabitha’s power was undeniable.
All the fear in this town, the terror that had slowly crept over all of them – now she knew its source.
Bingleton went white – good god, the man had actually darkened his eyelids and lashes with cosmetics – andscrambled to his feet. Without another word, he went sprinting for the exit.
Tabitha watched him go, huffing a soft, wry laugh. Then she turned back to Gwen and Isobelle, heaving a sigh. ‘And then there were three.’
She crossed the ring of firelight and prodded the chair with her foot, turning it with a screech of clawed feet on stone. She dropped into it, heavily, her eyes grave and intent. Taking advantage of their stunned silence, she regarded them thoughtfully. ‘Did you really think Bingleton, that ridiculous man, was behind this? That he had the power to control a monster, like my mother did?’
