Dot finished her work and stepped out of the rune. Only Lio and Rupert were allowed inside it now, and so she retreated to the arm of the chair beside Belchamber. She picked up her stained map of Alliaster, her tidy handwriting long ago smeared by the water of the Lourdes.
‘You’re up, Rupe,’ said Theodora, grinning. ‘Remember, if you hit bone you’ve gone too far. You need to cut carefully, shallowly and evenly. You’ve sterilised the blade so pray you don’t touch it with your hands. We’re looking for steady slices, not sloppy jags.’
‘Will it scar?’ asked Dot.
‘That will be the least of our worries,’ said Theodora.
Rupert glanced back at Dot in what seemed to her a moment of panic. Never had the boy looked younger, and Dot almost made to walk over and hug him. Yet, Lio patted his shoulder and Theodora reached up and took Rupert’s hand.
‘You’re going to do a wonderful job,’ said Theodora calmly. ‘I wouldn’t have asked you if I did not think so.’
‘You wouldn’t have asked me if you weren’t scared the spell would kill Dot,’ said Rupert, nodding back at her. ‘Or if you trusted Lio to do both parts.’
Theodora laughed and patted the side of his face.
‘Astute as always, Rupe. Still, I do trust you. I promise you won’t let me down.’
Rupert nodded and kneeled beside the witch. He took up the small knife. Begrudgingly, Lio kneeled on the other side. He looked down at Theodora, his own features uncharacteristically drawn.
‘Something on your mind, Lio?’
‘No,’ he said, running his fingers through his hair. ‘Well . . . should we not find Catebeforewe fix the runes?’
‘Depending on what they’ve done to the wards, they might use them to wriggle back in,’ said Dot from her corner. ‘It’ll be cleaner to sweep the city of their magic first and then banish them.’
‘I taught her that,’ said Theodora, prodding at Lio’s arm. He swatted her hand away.
‘I hate this kind of magic,’ said Lio. ‘Let’s just get it over with.’
‘Let’s,’ said Theodora. She spread her arms against the wood of the floor.
Lio placed one hand on Theodora’s forehead and the other on Rupert’s. In a low voice, he began to chant. Theodora, eyes open, placed her palms against the carved rune beneath her. A gale of wind swept about the room, jiggling the picture frames and books and the vase of bergamot. Loose papers were caught up in the gust and Dot held tight to her map to stop it from flying away. The smell of Theodora’s magic plumed. Incense, woodsmoke, gunpowder, lilac. With Lio’s hand still on the boy’s forehead, Rupert steadied himself and leaned over the witch. Carefully, he dug the tip of the little knife into her chest.
Theodora winced. She slid her fingers into the grooves of the rune beneath her, holding tight to them. Rupert’s knife dragged everso carefully along the salve that Dot had painted, scarlet mixing with lilac. Theodora’s blood dripped over her shoulders and down her ribs.
When the first drop hit the rune, Theodora’s head rocketed back.
She gasped. ‘Quickly, Rupe. Finish cutting the rune in.’
Rupert hurried, his hand clutching the handle so tight that his knuckles turned white. All the while, Lio chanted, his hands on Theodora and Rupert. Theodora closed her eyes, mouthing the chant along with Lio. Rupert took a laboured breath and then started on the inside rune. The blade was thick with blood now. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed and all the while, Theodora’s blood seeped down and across the grooves of the ward carved into the living room floor.
Dot’s hair whipped in the wind. Rupert cut two more lines into the left side of Theodora’s chest. Two starbursts on the right. Four lines pointing inward from the circumference. Dot saw him readjust his grip on the slippery handle.
‘Almost there,’ called Dot.
He cut and he cut, and the longer he did it, the more Theodora winced. Still, the witch did not cry nor scream. She mouthed Lio’s chants fiercely and channelled her magic through her fingertips and into the rune beneath her, for she was the one driving the spell. Dot held tightly to her map, thinking of the little girl with raven hair who at three o’clock in the morning had chosen all of this: the blood and blades and bad women to spirit her away.
Rupert removed the knife at last.
‘I’m going to channel my wards now,’ said Theodora. ‘Rupe, the opera glasses. You’ll get a small window to inspect each. When you find a broken one, describe its location as clearly and as quickly you can. It is going to be a very long evening and we have a lot to find.’
The witch’s hands were shaking as she clung to the rune beneath her. She closed her eyes. Without breaking the connection to Lio, Rupert awkwardly reached for the opera glasses and peered through them.
Dot anxiously stroked Belchamber’s arm, watching the three of them within the rune: Lio chanting, Theodora wincing, Rupert squinting through the opera glasses.
‘Anything?’ called Dot over the wind and the thrum of chanting.
‘Not yet,’ said Rupert. ‘Saints, she puts them in obscure places – behind bins and under statues. They’re very faint but I don’t think any of these have been . . . no, that’s intact. That’s intact. All of these look fine to me. I don’t understand.’
