Chapter 33 Magic

THROUGH HER THIRTY years (plus thirty-something moons on top now, but she didn't need to count them anymore) Belle had experienced some mighty hangovers. Particularly past the age of around twenty-six, when her body had decided that more than one or two glasses of wine was a terrible idea and that dancing in heels was not the natural art form it had once been. But this one beat them all. The hangover from a witches' battle was something else.

"You have got to stop calling it a hangover, you fool," Rune said, biting down on his lip to stop himself from laughing. "You're doing yourself somewhat of a disservice."

"It sounds a little too self-aggrandising to call it what it was," she replied, trying to sit up in her bed before promptly realising that it wasn't a good idea. Her head throbbed and her arms buckled under her weight.

"Easy, tiger," he growled softly. "Back on the pillows, please. How are those cuts looking?" He sucked in a breath as he eased the duvet away from one of her legs and saw the cross-stitch of wounds and bruises that had embroidered themselves along almost every inch of her body. He had yet to leave her side since pulling her out of the rubbled remains of the Hecate House atrium. Although they had certainly both taken their fair share of damage, the injuries that he and Bonnie had sustained were nowhere near as bad as Belle's, having thrown up their protection circles just in time before the place came down. Belle had been too intent on saving Ariadne from the fall to turn her attention to herself.

"Oi, I'm still pretty." Belle laughed, looking distinctly unpretty in that moment and quite possibly smelling even worse.

"Who told you that?" Rune smirked. They caught eyes, and he swallowed hard before averting his gaze to adjust the duvet again.

"Maybe we could try a bath again," Belle said. "Wait, I didn't mean we. As in ‘we try a bath.' As in ‘we could try a bath, specifically for me.' As in—"

"I think you have head injuries," Rune muttered, reaching the back of his hand against her forehead to check her temperature for the millionth time that day.

They had attempted to navigate a bath for Belle two nights ago, during which, after much awkward back and forth, Rune had won the argument that she didn't have the physical or magical strength to wash her own hair. She'd joked (half joked) that, in that case, he'd have to do it for her. And surprisingly, he'd agreed in a very gentlemanly way. Neither had cared to mention that a spell could have been used. There'd been a lot of magically manifested bubbles involved for dignity purposes, and he'd been surprisingly gentle. For all the front he'd ever put on towards her, for all of the rehearsed lines and sly flirting, the whole thing had actually made him rather shy in the moment.

"In fact, you have everything injuries. You summoned the elements together all at once. You saved us all—your mum, Ariadne, me, Artorius—not to mention the entire coven, who—I'm not supposed to tell you this, but I know you'll hate the surprise—are currently preparing to throw a celebration in your name for saving Selcouth."

"That was your doing, not mine."

"Hardly," Rune scoffed. "All I did was gather the magic back after Bronwyn and Morena vanished and return it to the rightful owners. I was basically the glorified paperwork guy. You laid the groundwork. And by ‘groundwork,' I of course mean ‘entirely destroyed the joint.'?"

Belle frowned. "I still can't believe those hags got out."

He stroked her face with a barely-there touch. "We don't know that for certain. The place was a ruin, the coven are still clearing the chaos. Even if they did make it out, they'd be in a bad way, their cauldron pledge ended once Selcouth banished them. They're gone," he said firmly.

Belle accepted it reluctantly and thumbed the fabric of the duvet. "How's Ariadne doing today?"

"Fully back on her feet, thanks to you, cushioning her fall like that with the transference spell. I assume it's a given that she's driving me half mad with questions. I have no idea how you function as flatmates together."

"Best friends, eh? Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em," Belle said in a horrible attempt at a New Jersey accent.

"You are insane," Rune said matter-of-factly while fighting a grin. "Can you manage to get dressed? There's someone waiting to see you at Lunar. Three guesses who. He has something that you need to see." Something in his face gave away that he knew exactly what it was.

"If this is that photo album again of his trip to Minorca, I'll honestly…"

She eased herself out of bed with a little help from Rune, both of his hands delicately placed on her waist to lift her and take the strain off her muscles. Everything ached as she moved, but with the help of a few healing potions, it was starting to feel manageable.

"Eyes off the prize, Dunstan."

"It's an instantaneous transformative spell. I won't see anything," he said indignantly, rolling his eyes and turning on the spot to face the wall, crossing his arms. It required significantly more effort than usual, but Belle flicked a finger towards her wardrobe to slide out a suitable outfit. She hadn't told Bonnie or Rune or Artorius that they had all individually ruined the news of Hecate House's surprise celebration during their bedside visits. Not an endarkenment but a congratulatory gesture. She was just relieved that this time, their summoning letter wasn't something to descend into a minor life crisis about. No more fear.

The coven, having all been rescued from imminent death, not to mention realising that their entire recent history was based on shameful lies, were altogether rather grateful. Not only to Belle but to Bonnie, too, and to Rune. They'd also granted an immediate pardon and coven apology to Artorius just hours ago, after each member of Selcouth received a co-signed letter from Bonnie and Caspar outlining the full extent of their discoveries.

With another finger flick, Belle freshened herself up and transformed her pyjamas into the celestial-patterned dress that the enchantment had selected. It was a shame that such a pretty piece had to be accessorised with a patchwork of plum-coloured bruises, but at least she wouldn't have to explain where they'd come from. Everybody knew. Literally everybody. Even Violet, Monica and Jim, although their version of events involved less witch anarchy and more falling down an entire flight of stairs into the tube station.

"That's a new one for the collection," Rune said, gesturing to a blooming petal of mauve and purple-blue across her collarbone.

"They really just keep on coming, don't they?" Belle replied, staring down at it.

Giving her a furtive glance, Rune leaned forwards and planted the softest, most delicate of kisses directly on top of the new bruise. Then, impossibly gently, he held her chin between his forefinger and thumb, the same spot that always held his magic, and kissed her. Belle, folding her fingers around the lapels of his jacket to bring him closer, felt her knees almost buckle, and this time it wasn't down to her injuries.

"You're looking better," he said, still holding her. "Can I get you anything?"

"A coffee, please. Big one," Belle said, attempting a grin but wincing as the inside of her split cheeks screamed in pain.

"You got it."

With small, timid steps, unconvinced just yet by the reliability of her own balance, Belle took the short walk to Lunar Books, a journey they were familiar with together now, only this time it was with a closed gap between them, her hand slipping so comfortably into Rune's that she swore it was the perfect fit. They squinted against the rosy November morning, chilly air biting at their faces beneath the spray of trees that had begun to change now from citrus oranges to richer browns.

"Did Caspar have any luck finding the Selcouth grimoire?" she asked. While she'd been recovering, Rune had been working closely with Caspar and Bonnie, raking through Artorius's endless reams of research to find remaining answers.

"He did. And it was still there, the loophole. We expected that it would have vanished, some kind of complex glamour that she'd created to fool you. But no, it was still written there, raven ink and all. How did Bronwyn manage to make an addition to the book if it was for her own gain, rather than for the good of the coven?"

Belle shrugged. "I can't tell if you're asking me for a genuine answer or if you're doing the usual dramatic, mysterious build-up to make me swoon somehow."

He laughed. "It's the latter. How am I doing?"

"Not too shabby."

Rune stopped and turned to her, their shadows melting together at their feet. "Bronwyn might have intended for the loophole to lead to your downfall, but the grimoire accepted it as lore because fate knew that it would result in you staying with Selcouth. Everything that happened was for the good of the coven. You were for the good of the coven." He lifted her chin to meet his gaze again. "But mainly for me."

Belle arrived at Lunar to the familiar welcoming jangle of the bell hanging above the door and breathed in the inviting scent of the fresh pastries that mingled with the new-book smell and plumed once again through the whole shop. Her shop. Danishes, croissants, savoury twists and apple cider donuts were ready and waiting in rows of golden glaze on the bakery cart next to the shiny new coffee machine. One of her first decisions for Lunar had been to bring back the steady supply of cinnamon buns and cappuccinos, and Mr.Ricci had been all too happy to team up on the idea, delivering everything early each day and already bringing a host of new commuting customers each morning as a result.

"Those are not for you." Belle rolled her eyes when she found Ariadne ripping apart the flaky sweetness of a bun for breakfast while she chatted to Artorius, the pair of them perched on alternate arms of an armchair.

Bonnie was moving from one end of the shop to the other, switching on the dotted table lamps with a train of tiny sparks as she went, with Wolfie contentedly snoozing on the rug in front of the till. Jinx had also been brought along for the occasion this time and was doing her level best to battle the end of a string of fairy lights hanging from a book trolley.

"There have got to be some benefits to being friends with the boss." Ariadne shrugged, dusting grains of sugar from her fingers. Belle's mother and her best friend had been taking it in turns to arrive at Lunar bright and early every morning while Belle rested and recovered, accepting the baked goods deliveries and passing on her slightly delirious, half-asleep instructions to Monica and Jim.

"So, really, if you think about it"—Artorius reclaimed Ari's attention—"a non-wicche branch of the coven could indeed prove rather useful, if you'd be interested in such an endeavour."

Ariadne looked mostly perplexed but was taking it in her stride. Bonnie and Belle had attempted to explain as best they could over the handful of days since the showdown, but it was more of a pencil sketch than a fully fledged masterpiece thus far. To her credit, Ari had been surprisingly quick to accept the existence of magic itself. The fact that Belle had not conjured a perfect life of riches and fame for them both was her biggest sticking point so far.

"Thanks for the offer, Mr.Day. I'll have a think…"

"Hi, Arty," Belle said, shuffling towards them at a speed that even he would have beaten. She dumped her bag on the desk next to the till and leaned against the oak for extra support.

The old man had escaped Hecate House relatively scot-free after being flung across the courtroom, just some bruises along with a fractured wrist, which he now wore in a pink sling to perfectly match his hat. Belle had marvelled at the miracle of his survival when she came to, sure as soon as she woke that she'd lost him. But things made a little more sense when Rune reported finding her sooth stone still attached to Morena's necklace, strewn just across the floor from his collapsed body. Alvina's Praesentia Pretego had flourished for her younger brother, too—a Day sibling bond built back together—although how it had got there remained an interesting question.

"Belle, it's wonderful to see you on your feet, my dear!" Artorius exclaimed, trying his best to rise to meet her.

"Don't get up. I hear you have a surprise for me," she said, fully expecting to spot the photo album in his bag. Instead, her stomach sank as she spotted the unmistakable corner of her grimoire poking out. "I'm not sure I'm ready to see that."

Despite everything that had happened, despite the wonder of the elemental magic that she had managed to perform in the moment, Belle still couldn't help but feel as though she'd failed herself. She knew it was stupid to care about redundant challenges after everything she'd achieved instead, but it was impossible to ignore. Naturally, she couldn't help but pay attention to the tiny negatives amongst the enormous joys. It was the last dream that she would ever allow to slip away from her.

The elemental magic would have certainly been enough to appease the Earth Sorcery allegory. That meant there had only been one allegory left unlit when Halloween met midnight and November arrived. She had failed her chance at endarkenment by one measly Incantation challenge.

Not that the coven were planning to adhere to the rules that the Gowdens had instated for her endarkenment, anyway. The whole process was to be updated, but still. It almost felt as though she'd disappointed the grimoire, which she'd been told time and time again was the truest source of a witch's worthiness.

Artorius gave her a smile. "I must insist that I return it to you. For safekeeping. You know as well as I do that nothing in that attic of mine is ever very easy to find again once you put it down. Has a mind of its own, that place. Have a look."

He handed her the great leather-bound book, the weight of it a struggle in her weak, bandage-covered arms but a strange comfort to have back in her possession. It fell open on that first page of pencil lettering that she'd scribbled as a brand-new witch.

What do you hope this new blessing of magic means for you, witch?

To be special. To like myself and be confident. To be happy.

She smiled to herself. "What am I looking for, exactly?"

Artorius beamed and, with a small gesture of his hand, guided the pages along until they found whatever it was that he was evidently so interested in. The Incantation allegory.

As it fell open, Belle gasped, almost dropping it. The looped calligraphy letters turned from raven black ink to glowing warm amber. The page was lit from within, a tiny fire behind every word. "I don't understand," she stuttered, hardly daring to believe it for herself.

Bonnie laughed. "Ariadne. You summoned her."

Belle was baffled. It must be an admin error. Did grimoires suffer admin errors? "What? When?"

"After Bronwyn, that gorgon, brought her into Hecate House for no reason other than revelling in your misery," Bonnie said bitterly.

"Just before she fell to the ground, you summoned her to you. You cushioned her fall and took most of the blow as you both went down together," Rune said proudly.

Belle looked across to Ariadne, who was grinning smugly.

So to prove good thine incantation,

Rewrite the mind's own dark narration.

Spirit, soul and spell to start,

Summon that which is thine heart.

"You love me, bitch," Ariadne said. "I am ‘thine heart.'?"

Belle let out a slightly hysterical, extra-loud splutter of a laugh. "Only because I thought everyone else was already dead. Ow!" She clutched at a rib. "Don't make me laugh. Please."

Bonnie was grinning from ear to ear. "You passed, darling. You summoned Ariadne just before midnight on Halloween. The grimoire lit up just in time. You did it." She threw her arms around Belle, squeezing tightly before remembering that her daughter was a patchwork quilt of injuries.

"If we didn't have reason enough to celebrate already, then we sure do now," Ariadne called, shimmying towards the coat stand to grab her scarf and hat. "Come on, Jim will be in soon for opening, and I don't want to have to explain to the poor bloke why there's a giant Irish wolf-hound in the shop."

"You don't even know what all of this is about!" Belle said, straining to catch her jacket, which was sailing through the air as Ariadne chucked belongings at random.

"You can tell me on the way to your party."

Bonnie threw up her hands and rolled her eyes. "That was supposed to be a surprise."

"I'll drive, as it were," Rune said in his usual cool tone, turning up the collar of his coat.

"Marvellous, marvellous," Artorius muttered happily, scooping up Jinx.

"Are you ready, sweetheart?" Bonnie asked, easing her daughter over to stand beside them.

Belle took their hands, the five (plus cat and dog) standing in a chain to travel under Rune's transference. Jinx was purring to a volume that was verging on supernatural. Ariadne, on Belle's right, asking Rune whether he'd consider an alternative jacket for the winter months, which he instantly dismissed. Rune, on the end, looking across to her like he wouldn't ever want to look at anything else. Her mother, on her left, clasping onto her hand with a look that couldn't have been prouder, never applying pressure or expectation to her daughter but providing a love that was fiercely true and endless through all weathers. And Artorius, on Bonnie's end, politely extending his arm for her to take. A man who had been alone for so long welcomed into the life of friendship and family he had longed for, another grandparent whom she had serendipitously found for herself.

All under the glow of the fairy lights, wrapped in the pages of Lunar Books.

The radiance of her sooth stone heated against her chest, a feeling she would never tire of. Ever-loving.

"Ready."

All of this. Imperfect but hers. That candle flame of potential which had once felt infinite, then faded to being carried away on a wisp, now burned brightly, brilliantly again. She could feel it. Prioritising herself had brought it back, hand in hand with everything she needed, reaffirmed everything she already had. She had found true magic and would hold on to it tightly with both hands.