Chapter 24

Anissa handed me the potion bottle. Great: somehow I'd been volunteered to give the conscious bear his meds. Lucky me. I hoped Mum wasn't over-exaggerating her skills. I'd been hoping for a few drops on his tongue but no: it was a full sixteen-ounce bottle's worth. Fantastic.

‘I'll help you,' Connor promised as he waved Mum forward. ‘Be careful and do it fast.' He looked the tiniest bit nervous, obviously frightened he was going to get my mother killed. So was I.

In her silk dress and heels, Mum looked as far from a witch as you could imagine. She took a deep breath, released it and started weaving her hands and quietly muttering what I assumed was a spell. It wasn't in English but in German.

The spell worked fast. Stan stopped making his peculiar barking polar bear grunts almost as soon as the chanting began and Connor nodded for Anissa to move in.

Stan was immobile except for his heaving chest and his blazing red eyes which were rolling around crazily in his skull, trying, but failing to focus on each of us. His limbs were locked down; he couldn't even turn his head, although I could see his muscles rippling under his fur as he tried. If Mum's spell failed, I had no doubt he'd rip us all to shreds.

She kept up her chanting and her hands continued to move in their hypnotic dance.

My teeth rattled and my skin itched – my response to witch magic. Stan had slid off the broken counter and was lying on the floor on his side. The office was completely destroyed – we'd need new computers, new everything. Even the steel filing cabinets that lined one wall were severely dented. Most of the ceiling tiles were down and the supports were wrecked and twisted. I'd never liked those soundproofing tiles; maybe we could rip them out and look at the pipes and whatever else they were there to hide. A modern commercial look.

Connor sat down and lifted Stan's heavy head into his lap. The bear's tongue lolled out the second he was moved. Connor put his fingers in Stan's mouth to open it and Stan's eyes rolled faster, his muscles nearly popping as he strained to move.

Mum's chanting became louder. She was sweating now; despite her blasé attitude, this was clearly hard work.

Connor positioned Stan's head so I could pour the potion into his mouth and I unscrewed the bottle cap. I had to go slowly so that Stan could swallow but fast enough for it not to take too long. By the time I was done, I was drenched with nervous sweat too.

Then it was Anissa's turn. She motioned us out of the way and pulled a drum from her large bag; it was a flat circle of what looked like stretched skin with a handle and a slender stick. She set the drum aside and sprinkled a mix of herbs on Stan. Next she pulled out a wooden mask, brightly painted in strips of colour and surrounded by a sinew hoop and raven feathers. She put it down and gave me the drum. As I held it, she took the stick and started a rhythmic beat about the rate of a human heart.

She looked at me. ‘Can you keep that beat for me?'

I nodded, took the stick and hit the drum. It had a resonant sound, like the thrumming of a bird's wings. Anissa corrected how I struck it, waited to make sure I was keeping a steady beat, then sat at Stan's head for a few minutes.

Once she was centred, she stood and picked up her mask. Holding it in her hands, she moved it around her as she danced and chanted. Sometimes she placed the mask over her face, sometimes she looked at it, and sometimes she held it up to the ceiling. Then she danced and chanted some more. Her magic wasn't like witch magic; I didn't itch but I felt it as a pressure on my ears and a vibration in my bones.

I switched between watching her and watching Stan. Mum kept up her spell, although her arms were shaking and she was slowing down. Whilst I continued rhythmically beating, I watched her intently. Could I learn to do something like that? I committed the German phrases she muttered over and over to the plains of my memory.

I had no idea how long we worked but Anissa's chant eventually rose to a crescendo and I heard – felt – a snap. As I stared at Stan, the red glow in his eyes faded away.

Anissa stopped chanting. She took off her mask and snapped it in half. ‘It is done,' she said with satisfaction.

Looking relieved, Mum dropped her hands and stopped chanting. The bear sighed as he was released from Mum's vice-like grip, and his body started to shift. She held a hand to her face and swayed dangerously. Connor was by her side in a flash and caught her as she slipped into a faint.

I rushed over to her. ‘She's okay, just worn out,' he reassured me. ‘Get her something to drink, something with sugar in it would be best.' He laid her on the floor.

I rushed to the break-room fridge. Someone, probably Gunnar, had left a sports drink in there. I rushed it over to Connor as Mum's eyelids fluttered open. ‘Drink this, Victoria,' Connor instructed. ‘You'll feel better for getting some sugar and electrolytes into your system.'

Mum grimaced but drank it. Once she was done, Connor helped her stand up and I righted my office chair for her to sit on. ‘I'm all right,' she insisted. ‘I feel better already. It's a shame we hadn't managed to eat before all this kerfuffle.' Only Mum would call a red-eyed marauding bear a ‘kerfuffle'.

Stan was unconscious on the floor, buck-naked. I found a sweatshirt someone had left in the break room and laid it over his lap so we didn't have to gaze at Little Stan. Stan looked – less somehow, like his usual bulk had wasted away. He was such a big man, but lying there he looked much smaller.

‘We need to get him back to the hospital for more treatment,' Anissa said. ‘I'll call the paramedics to come get him.'

‘How long will it be before they're all back to normal?' I asked.

She shook her head. ‘I don't know. The curse was hard on their bodies and the longer they were under its influence, the longer their recovery will be. The first guy, Jeff, is in really bad shape and he'll need lots of care and potions. The doctors need to get a thorough look at Stan now he's in his human form again, but he looks like he's lost muscle mass. He's a shifter, though, so he's primed to have fantastic healing speeds. We'll have to see how he goes.'

Stan's skin was unnaturally pale and he was visibly thinner. His cheeks were sunken and I could count his ribs.

‘I'll call the ambulance.' I pulled out my phone and dialled. With that sorted, I started moving the rubble so that the medical team could reach Stan a little more easily. It wouldn't be easy to get him out with all the detritus underfoot.

‘How's Sigrid?' I asked. ‘Is she like this?' I gestured to Stan.

‘She didn't burn as much energy by shifting and going berserk – but honestly? She looks like she's laid low. They're all still very sick,' Anissa said sombrely. ‘And unlike Stan, she doesn't have any extra healing skills in her back pocket.'

I felt sick thinking about it. If we hadn't found that plant, would they have made it? We needed to find that damned curser and stop them from doing this to anyone else.

‘How much of the plant did you use?' I asked. I didn't want to go beyond the barrier again any time soon.

‘Most of it,' she admitted. ‘We probably have enough for one or two more doses.'

Connor and I exchanged glances; we were both thinking the same thing: if more than two more people were cursed, they would probably die.