Theodora filled Lio and Rupert in: the debt, the contract, the debacle with the daemon.
‘A tight spot is not the way I would put that,’ said Lio, scoffing.
‘Because you are hyperbole, manifest,’ said Theodora.
‘Theo,’ said Dot, ‘whatisyour grand solve then? How will we sort our Acanthi problem, find the solution to my affliction and defy Salamander?’
‘I admire your ambition, Dorothy, but one impossible task at a time,’ said the witch. ‘We’ll only do the first of those three today.’
‘How then?’ asked Rupert.
Theodora looked at each of them, her eyes now sparkling.
‘With blood magic.’
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
The witching hour arrived. Each of them huddled in the living room with their papers and tools. Rupert held Belchamber not unlike an infant and set him gently into the crook of the armchair beside the ornate vase. The woollen blanket Dot placed upon him smelled of lavender; she rearranged it so that Belchamber’s tin-coloured face peeked through. Could spirits get cold? Perhaps not, but they could feel love and she knew that Belchamber would appreciate the gesture of the blanket if he woke and it was upon him.
‘Every time I look at him, I want to wring Acanthi’s necks,’ said Rupert.
‘As I’ve told you, Rupe,’ said Theodora, picking up tea cups and saucers from the coffee table. She flicked her hand, and the table flew to the other side of the room. ‘That would be a very Catherine Weyer way to explore your passions.’
‘What if it’s fair?’ asked Rupert, picking up the small kitchen knife he’d placed on the mantle. The boy leaned over the hearth and poured alcohol on the blade. ‘Cate murdered your friend, didn’t she? She didthisto Belchamber. Maybe some people deserveto have their own nastiness inflicted back at them?’
‘Perhaps,’ said Theodora, taking the knife from Rupert. ‘But we know better.’
‘Dot blasted my mother halfway across the markets,’ said Rupert. ‘You didn’t seem to mind about that.’
‘That was accidental,’ said Dot. ‘In truth, I feel terribly about the whole thing.’
‘Don’t,’ said Rupert. He gestured at her affliction. ‘Hurt you more than it hurt her.’
They turned as Lio rolled away the rug to reveal the rune beneath. Theodora set down several candles in a circle around its edges.
‘Lead us through the plan again, Dorothy,’ said the witch.
Dot stood tall, her hands behind her back.
‘The witches of Acanthi have been abducting tea shop customers, and that is most likely how the wards were weakened enough to allow them to attack Belchamber.’ Theodora nodded, and Dot went on. ‘We need to search the city to find the wards that they’ve reconfigured, fix them, and then banish Acanthi from Alliaster by taking their blood, which will probably be difficult because blood magic is Moira’s talent – but firstly, they are not expecting us to use blood magic and secondly, wards areyourtalent, Theo, so, in a fight, you would be stronger. And hopefully that helps if they notice what we’re doing before we’ve done it and they attack us.’
‘Iwashoping for something a touch abridged,’ said Theodora with a small smile, ‘but beautifully explained, Dorothy! We have somewhere between fifteen and twenty faulty wards to locate and we need to move quickly.’
‘So, there’s really no other option besides blood magic?’ asked Rupert.
‘I have tried everything else,’ said the witch. ‘And if we’re going to use it to banish them from the city, we may as well fix the wards at the same time. Don’t worry, Rupe. I’ve done this once before.’
The witch opened up her palm. There was the grimace-shaped scar.
‘You will do a spectacular job, both of you,’ said Theodora to Rupert and Dot. ‘Don’t let Liutprand kill me.’
‘Give me your sodding coat,’ said Lio.
Theodora shrugged it off and handed it to him. ‘No one get excited,’ she said, and began undoing the first few buttons of her silk blouse. Theodora lay against the wood-carved rune of the living room floor and opened the shirt wide enough to reveal her chest and the upper edges of her brassiere. Rupert’s chalky face flushed red.
‘Go on then, Dorothy,’ said Theodora.
Lio handed Dot a little bowl of purple paste. The concoction smelled sour – menthol, lavender and something bitter that Dot could not pick. She dipped a thin paintbrush in and, like she had practised at least twenty times on parchment back in the workshop, painted onto Theodora’s upper chest the same rune that was against the floor, adding in flourishes to help locate the reconfigured wards.
