Chapter 4 Forgotten Gifts

4

Forgotten Gifts

BELLE BLACKTHORN WAS officially thirty. It had happened. Before yesterday's events, she had expected to wake up either one of two ways on her milestone morning. With her birthday sunrise, she might feel surprisingly at peace, quietly confident and hopeful about a new decade of possibility. Or (she had tried to tell herself that it would be a reasonable feeling) she would wake up and find that it had somewhat crept up on her, the disappointment that her life was meandering off in directions that her younger self hadn't hoped for.

Instead, thirty was neither of the two. Belle's mind was entirely elsewhere after a night of staring at the ceiling with heavy, gritty eyes, feeling a sickly mix of determination and dread over her looming EquiWitch trial. She squinted against the brightness bleeding through the curtains and was stirred by a tap on her bedroom door.

It started with a gentle whisper. "Belle…Belle…Are you awake?" A pause. Then a vigorous shake of the handle with a rattle. "Are you awake? Belle?" Ariadne bellowed.

Belle's pointing finger gestured in mid-air to unlock the door, peering out from the duvet pulled up to her nose.

"Sorry, I'm dead," Belle groaned, shoving a pillow over her head.

"That's the spirit. Happy birthday!" Ari barged into the room unceremoniously and belted out the song in her strong northern accent so loudly that Belle was pretty sure the neighbours would be round to complain. Again.

Ariadne stood with her long, lanky arms outstretched, laden with a selection of pink balloons tied around her wrists. Wedged under her armpits and between the legs of her dungarees was a selection of oddly shaped gifts and what looked worryingly like a birthday cake shoved into a Tupperware, a birthday banner wrapped around her shoulders like a scarf. She looked ridiculous, joy personified. Belle couldn't help but snort at the pandemonium of balanced birthday goods.

"You're actually thirty. What the hell is happening?" Ariadne said with an enormous grin, shuffling forwards so that presents fell from between her legs like a strange birth.

"I cannot believe this curse is upon me. I thought the gods would hear my cries." Belle stretched her forearm over her face in mock despair, the feeling of being cursed hitting far more realistically than her friend could possibly realise. Was Selcouth into curses now? Maybe that's what was happening, just a friendly coven curse.

"I have to say that as your extremely young and sprightly looking friend…"

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you are also hitting this decrepit milestone in a mere matter of weeks."

Belle gestured for her friend to join her. Ari dumped everything on the floor with her usual inelegant flair, balloons still attached awkwardly to her arms. A trailing number 3 bashed Belle right in the face before almost garrotting her.

"Are you decent under there? Any roguish gentlemen stashed away? Let me in, woman." Ari and balloons climbed under the duvet next to Belle, seizing the covers for herself. Belle wiggled along the mattress to make room.

"No gentlemen, roguish or otherwise. Just Jinx."

"My joining you in a new decade may soon be true," Ariadne lamented. "But for now, I am going to enjoy the fact that I am your extremely young hot friend in her twenties, and you are my withering old crone in her thirties." She wrapped Belle in her enthusiastic, double-armed hug that always came with a smell of sweet vanilla conditioner from her curly hair and a comforting extra squeeze at the end.

The unpleasant feeling of impending doom faded, just for a moment.

"My favourite crone, though, so it's fine. How are you feeling?" Ari asked, grabbing the cushions to shove behind her after tying the balloons to the bed-frame. "Do you feel different? Older and wiser?"

"I currently feel hungry and in dire need of caffeine, so I'm not sure all that much has changed as I cross the bridge into old age."

Belle, wrapped in her blanket shroud, hair up in a slightly mad-looking bun, reluctantly got up to trudge to the kitchen to make two cups of coffee. She had been dreading this moment since last night, when she double-checked the finer details of the letter. She prepared herself for the inevitable volume of Ari's reaction and seized her chance as she splashed in the milk, calling back to the bedroom.

"I have news that you're not gonna like and must preface it by saying please don't kill me."

She rebalanced her blanket cloak and grabbed the two mugs, then slunk back into bed with the steaming drinks.

"I can't join you guys today anymore. Something's…" Her voice trailed off reluctantly. "Something's come up."

She glanced warily over the brim of her cup. Ari laughed before realising that her best friend wasn't kidding and froze mid–cat stroke.

"Oh, come on! You're joking. Your own thirtieth?"

Belle winced.

"You can't not turn up to your own birthday picnic, weirdo. It's your thirtieth! I made you a bloody pavlova, look in that lunchbox. I was on the tube with giant helium balloons, and one got caught when the doors shut, and I nearly died. All for the grand cause of your birthday celebrations. What am I going to tell the stripper?"

Belle spluttered on coffee, horrified.

"Okay, the last bit is a lie, but the rest is true."

As feelings went, this one was particularly awful. Not only cancelling plans that they had all been excited about for weeks in exchange for one that she was dreading but also lying to her favourite person about the reason.

"I'm so sorry. I am the saddest person in the world. It's a…work thing."

"Please? You have to come." Ari sounded genuinely upset. Belle shrunk back against the pillows. She stretched her pyjama top over her knees to her ankles and racked her brain for anything that might sound plausible.

"You know what Christopher is like. He's a demon, wanting the stock check completed, like, yesterday. And there's his general zero respect for my having an actual life…You know I'd get out of it if I possibly could."

Ari gave her friend a cutting, unimpressed look. "I don't understand your loyalty to that place, especially with him at the helm."

In fairness, Belle had never understood her friend's job, either (something about pensions?). Although they'd been friends for what might as well be forever, the two girls had grown up polar opposites, with Belle diving into the world of words and Ariadne opting for systems and numbers. Confident and instantly charming, she walked the line between chaotic day-to-day disorganisation and being keenly logical and focused when her mind was put to something important. Unfortunately, that meant that she could spot a lie from a mile away, which was somewhat inconvenient for her magical best friend.

"Just don't cancel the whole thing, okay?" Belle pleaded. "Have a good day with the others. I can call you when I'm done and see where you guys have ended up crawling to. You won't even miss me."

She tried to wave a white flag. How long could a magical hearing take, anyway? She might be out by lunchtime.

"If this isn't the final straw for you to tell Christopher to take a hike and grab Lunar for yourself, I don't know what will be." Ariadne sounded distinctly peeved.

Belle's guilt rattled. She wanted desperately to explain the real gut-wrenching problem currently ruining her birthday. It was exactly the type of scenario that Ariadne would be able to offer some solid reassurance on. But somehow "I was so excited for my birthday with my best mates today, eating all the fancy packets of tiny autumn picnic food, but now I have to go and see a coven about procuring a magical destiny" felt a little much to get into.

Her powers were the one and only secret (albeit a big one) that Belle had ever kept from Ariadne since they met on their first day of school. They'd been inseparable since Ari had gone home and told her mum about the strange girl with the silver hairband, Belle sharing the same encounter with Bonnie while standing on tiptoes to peer over the kitchen cauldron.

There'd been a close call when Belle had almost blurted out the events of her fifteenth birthday, the day after her endarkenment debut. The girls had been three hours deep into a film marathon, and she'd spent the whole evening falling down a dark pit of overwhelm. Shy wallflower teenage Belle was desperate to share with her closest ally, seeking a crumb of precious reassurance.

She'd stopped herself from spilling the secret, even to her best friend, after remembering the sage witches' warnings of non-wicche knowledge, of sharing the truth with non-powers. Bonnie, too, had sat her down with a cup of soothing velvety hot chocolate to talk about the dangers of their potentially world-shattering secret. Even with those who were closest to you— even Ariadne, Bonnie said—it was never a good idea. It was a sad fact of life that those who you would trust with your life were often the ones who could inflict the most damage when put to the test. Selflessly holding on to the secret of magic when you cannot partake in it yourself was a torment that even the strongest non-wicche could be driven out of their mind by. History had proved that non-powers couldn't typically exercise much restraint when presented with close proximity to magic. Something about torches and pitchforks.

"I'm not going to pretend this isn't dreadful," Ari said, cutting straight to the point, "but"—she sighed and held up a finger—"do not stress, for it is your special birthday. We will just have to celebrate on your behalf because we are very good, noble friends."

Belle felt herself physically relax just an inch.

"Birthday cake breakfast?"

They fell into their usual talk, most of it indecipherable to anyone but them, between generous slices of sweet Victoria sponge, a cloud of dusty sugar on their fingertips, the red jam bright and nostalgic. For a while, Belle almost forgot about what lay ahead.

Eventually and reluctantly, Ariadne headed out to enjoy Belle's birthday without her, taking the mash of pavlova in a Tupperware under one arm and a bag full of tequila under the other. The balloons were left tied at various intervals around the flat, much to the horror of Jinx, who was convinced that they were out to fight her. Belle shut the door behind Ariadne and tilted her head back heavily against it with closed eyes. The outright lying never got easier.

She flicked out her spell finger at nothing in particular to release the pent-up block of magic that had been aching to escape all morning. As a stream of tiny stars cascaded across the room, like leaves carried on a gust of wind, Belle felt instant relief. The fringed lamp flickered on and off, the drooping peace lily stirred itself to a freshened state and curtains billowed dramatically as magic filled the room. Resisting the urge to cast always felt like an itch that she couldn't quite scratch. She crossed the room, cheering herself with small tasks. Reviving the wilting sunflowers in their vase for a few more days. Sending the heaped fresh laundry into the right bedroom. Refilling the cat food bowls. Abandoning balloon enemies for biscuits, Jinx chirped a thank you.

Belle hauled herself in the direction of the shower, feeling like the worst person in the non-wicche world and probably the magical one to boot. Did Selcouth really have to host the trial on her actual birthday? A little inconsiderate but, knowing the coven's nature, probably a wildly old tradition that inflicted some kind of generation-spanning curse if broken. Plus, Belle imagined, medieval folks probably didn't do much to celebrate their thirtieth birthday. There was dysentery and the plague to worry about. Not to mention witch accusations getting in the way of most party plans. Maybe her own hand wasn't so bad.

In her bedroom, filled with a jumble of yellowing second-hand books alongside bright brand-new ones, Belle sat lost in thought on the bed. All great thinkers knew that contemplation came best when wrapped in a towel, with another precariously balanced on one's head. Jinx giving her a headbutt on the shin eventually snapped her out of it.

"I need to get my act together, don't I?"

She glanced at the clothes in her wardrobe, the alternative heap draped over the armchair. One spell that she did cast every day without fail was to bring forth the clothes that she should wear for whatever occasion was on the agenda—her nifty Idoneus Indumentum incantation that teenage Belle had perfected as a priority within a few weeks of gaining powers. It saved a lot of indecision in the mirror, but probably wouldn't qualify as proof of full endarkenment.

With a flick of her finger, an old favourite sailed towards her. An emerald green dress, suitably witchy but nothing as to garner strange looks on a packed train. It was comfortable, reliable. Plus, it had pockets.

She would shove the required coven cape and hat in her backpack once she remembered where she'd put them. Noticing the time, she zapped her wet hair dry ( Capillus Aura , another useful one) and grabbed a pair of boots.

"Jinxy, wish me luck."

Jinx glanced up with her usual catty mix of affection and disdain.

Sliding aside the clutter on the coffee table, Belle pulled out the letter. The writing, a little crumpled now, glowed like embers as she reread the words off almost by heart. The Cheers! at the end was starting to grate.

Please bring with you to your hearing your bestowed sooth stone for the Selcouth endarkenment presentation…

She sighed. She'd nearly forgotten.

It had been a long time since she'd seen that thing. Finding it now would be nothing short of a miracle. While she wasn't quite up to conducting those yet, she did have a quick Perdita Invenio , a lost-and-found incantation up her sleeve. With a small finger turn, she completed a circle of tiny stars. In moments, she heard the stifled rattling sound of something trying to escape.

"Well, I would never have found you in there."

Rummaging in the corner of her dresser drawer, delving amongst bottles, tubs and endless hair bobbles, Belle felt her fingers wrap around a small bundle of silk scarf tied into a knot. She unfurled it carefully to uncover the brooch hidden away inside. It fitted perfectly into the palm of her hand, the delicate case carved from shell that framed a pebble-sized jewel, a chunky shard of lacklustre grey glass. A little underwhelming in all honesty, considering its apparent status as a mysterious, magical artefact.

It had been years since she'd seen it. She tossed it over in her hand. The glass was always murky, inky, but the inside moved and swirled slowly like smoke behind glass, like tiny storm clouds gathering. It had been a strange birthday gift from her grandmother fifteen years ago.

"When the time comes, you'll appreciate it," Alvina Blackthorn had said, closing her granddaughter's fingers over the gift with a gentle tap. It had gone unexplained and unsurprisingly unworn, teenagers not usually being big on brooches. The glass was forgotten about, shoved into a jewellery box before she could think to ask much more about it. Now, with her grandmother gone, it was another souvenir of unasked questions, unspoken conversations. Belle's questions about the stone had joined the pile, insignificant compared to other words that she longed to speak with her nan. She pinned the brooch onto the strap of her dress.

"I'll take all the luck I can get today."

Although it was instantly hidden by her dark hair, Belle was taken aback, bolstered ever so slightly by a warm feeling. Something that once belonged to her grandmother, her precious and caring and cherished nan, tying them together as soon as it rested against her chest. The small, quiet reminder of an ever-loving presence.