Page 62 of Board Games and Broomsticks

‘Oh, I think I am.’ Nyssa’s hands clenched around the grimoire in an attempt to hide how badly they were trembling. Her broom rested on the ground near her feet, and Nyssa shifted just the slightest bit closer to it as she continued, ‘I think you need this grimoire for whatever you’re planning. I think,’ she paused, shifting a tiny bit closer, ‘that you gave me twenty-four hours not as an ode to our friendship, but because you wanted time to scare me into giving in. The fog, the creatures from Familiars, they’re all part of it. You need my grimoire. You need me. Because whatever you have planned, you can’t do it alone.’

For a second, Nyssa thought she’d gotten the upper hand. She waited for Morven to deflate, or to lose his temper and make some kind of mistake. Instead, he let out a small, mocking chuckle that made Nyssa’s blood run cold.

‘Oh, little witch, I am far from alone.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

‘W-what?’

For as long as Nyssa had known him, Morven Delamorte had preferred to work alone. She had been the only exception to that rule, and she had not only turned down his offer to join him, but had used it to betray and imprison him. She’d known she’d be able to face him the first time because while she had the force of the covens behind her, Morven had only himself and the power he’d managed to steal. And with there being only so much stolen power a single mage could contain before they went mad or died, Morven’s power had had its limits – limits that did not apply to the combined power of the covens.

But if Morven really was working with someone else, then there was a chance those limits no longer applied to him, either.

‘Not so cocky now, I see.’ Morven smiled. ‘Unlike you, I learn from my mistakes: I knew that if I faced the covens alone again I would likely fail, and so I began to form a coven of my own. You and I aren’t the only ones the covens have turned their backs on. There are others, others who share my wish for power and vengeance. And now that we are bound, now that their power is my power, we will destroy this town and everything you hold dear.’

Tears burned the back of Nyssa’s eyes as Morven’s fog began to thicken, creeping around her and freezing her limbs in place.

‘You are the one who is alone.’

The words were meant to wound, as hers had been. And they would have done, if not for the bonds she’d made over the last few months. She was less alone than she’d ever been, and she held on to that thought, on to the memories of Elowen’s embrace and Liora’s laughter and Alaric’s calming presence as the fog pressed down on her until her ribs gave a sickening crack. Pain exploded through every inch of her body, but just as she had done in her first trial, Nyssa focused on those memories. On the way each and every precious moment with her friends had made her feel. And as she did, her senses flooded with the familiar aroma of honey-sweet magic, and the chain around her neck – the one that had once belonged to her grandmother – tingled with warmth.

The hairs on Nyssa’s neck and arms prickled as her witch instincts kicked in. There was something important about that warmth. Something related to what Morven had said …

Now that their power is my power.

Morven had said he wasn’t alone any more because he shared power with his coven through some sort of bond. A bond. The idea lodged in Nyssa’s foggy brain, pulling a memory from the recesses of her mind. Something that Elowen had spoken of swam to the fore, and with sudden, heart-racing clarity, Nyssa remembered the tale she’d shared.

His mother’s spirit appeared, and told him that her power was his power; all he had to do was draw on the familial bond between them in the same way he might draw on the power of a ley line.

Nyssa wasn’t alone. She never had been. Her grandma had always been with her, even when she was at the covenstead, miles away in both body and heart. Even now, when her life was no more. Nyssa didn’t know if the folk tale Elowen had spoken of was true, but she knew that whatever magic had helped her fend off the bear and wolf in these very woods hadn’t belonged solely to her. It had been Lisabeth Hawthorne using the eternal connection between them to weave her magic with her own.

And now, with the necklace acting as a physical anchor between them, that connection was stronger than it had ever been. Nyssa raised a hand to touch the chain, wincing at the wave of pain the movement caused, her vision blurring.

Grandma, if you’re there, Nyssa thought as her grip on consciousness started to slip, I need you. Please.

Nyssa conjured the last good memory she had of Lisabeth Hawthorne before she’d left Nighthaven behind. They hadn’t been doing anything special. Simply walking through these very woods, gathering ingredients for a new spell her grandmother wanted to try. It was just before Nyssa was due to take her entrance exams with the coven, and Lisabeth had insisted she join her to clear her head. Nighthaven will always be here for those who need it most, her grandmother had said as Nyssa had closed her eyes and taken a deep breath of the magic in the air, her nerves easing for the first time in weeks. I do not just protect it: it protects me. And it will protect you too, if you let it.

Nyssa had dismissed her grandma’s claims at the time, passing them off as another one of her attempts to convince her to stay. But now she let the words settle inside her. Let her need to protect her friends and all of Nighthaven become her sole focus. And as she did, Nyssa began to feel the same spark of power she had the last time she’d connected with her grandmother’s spirit. The same warmth blooming in her chest, the same scent of honey-sweet apples and cinnamon lingering around her. She inhaled deeply, refocusing her vision on the scene before her.

Morven was standing over her, and with a languid flick of his wrist she felt his magic forcing her to her feet before shoving her against the trunk of an old, gnarled tree. He had the grimoire now, and with a snarl, he thrust it into Nyssa’s chest, pressing it there hard enough for it to choke the breath from her. ‘Unlock it. Now.’

Even with her grandma’s aid, Nyssa had no chance of overpowering Morven like this. No, she needed to go through with her original plan. It was her only chance.

My broom. I need … my broom.

It lay discarded in the centre of the grove. All Nyssa had to do was distract Morven long enough to reach it.

She made a show of looking defeated. ‘I’ll need my athame,’ she lied. ‘It’s in my bag. Can I—’

‘No. I’ll get it.’ Morven’s power pressed down on her once more, locking her limbs in place. Or at least it would have, if Lisabeth’s magic wasn’t already fending it off, combining with Nyssa’s own to act as a sort of invisible shield around her body. Nyssa stiffened anyway. Made it look as though Morven’s magic was working.

And when Morven was far enough away, when he bent down to retrieve her discarded satchel, Nyssa chanted under her breath:

‘Moon above, I seek your aid,

Bestow your divine light, let darkness fade.’

The words came out more rushed than was ideal, but the spell took shape anyway. Morven had just turned towards her when the ball of light, silver as the moon above, appeared in her palm. Without hesitating, she flung it at Morven’s face, forcing him to cast a protection spell of his own and dropping the grimoire as he did. But Nyssa hadn’t meant for her spell to be an attack, and Morven was unprepared as the ball stopped inches before his face and began to glow like a beacon shone directly in his eyes.