Chapter Nineteen

4 p.m.: sunday 31 october

Ashworth Hall

The Wedding

The final hour before the wedding disappeared in a blur. Kay's dad and the other two witches finished decorating the parlour (manually) around the minister being shown in. All the chairs had been placed facing the rear of the room, where there was a long table beneath a wide mirror, reflecting the windows with their view of the trees and hill down to the woods. The ushers arrived and, not long behind them, the guests.

Kay hurried upstairs to join Sandy and the other bridesmaids and discovered they'd already gone and had to rush back downstairs to find them.

Jaz was carrying a box across the lobby and spotted her. ‘This way,' she called, leading Kay into what turned out to be a dining room. All the bridesmaids were in there, now in their gowns, along with Sandy's dad. Sandy was luminous in her lush green dress, covered in embroidered flowers that wound from the deep V neckline, around one side of the bodice, to spread out across the long skirt. Her caramel hair was down, adorned with a simple tiara, and shining, but not as much as her eyes.

‘There you are, Kay,' she exclaimed and Kay hurried forward to kiss her cheek.

‘You look so beautiful, Sandy.'

‘It's almost time. We'll be sisters soon.'

They could hear the chatter in the room beyond a door, which must have led into the parlour where the ceremony would take place.

Jaz was busy unboxing the bouquets at the end of the long glass table and handed them out as they got in line. Kay stood behind Chelsea, in front of Erin, breathless, even though it wasn't her getting married.

‘How are we old enough for this to be happening?' Jaz said, as she gave Kay hers, refreshing the petals with a brush of her fingers that was either too subtle for any non-magical person to notice or deflected by the spell work in the house. Kay had noticed runes over the door of nearly every room.

‘It's crazy, isn't it?' She looked down at the flowers in her hands, a mix of amaryllis, eryngium and sunflowers, nestled within orange oak-leaf foliage. The sunflower made a blush come to Kay's cheeks, but she smiled up at Jaz. ‘These are gorgeous.'

‘Thank you.' Jaz squeezed Kay's arm. ‘Hopefully I'll catch you at the reception.'

‘We might be old, but at least it means we don't have to steal the dandelion wine now.'

‘And try to figure out how to open it.'

Kay laughed, and a few moments later, the door cracked open and the music started. The empty room from earlier was full of guests now. Her eyes darted over the people gathered, and it felt like there was a hum of magic in the air, but she wasn't sure whether it was from the high concentration of witches, or simple excitement.

Either way, as she followed Chelsea's slow walk, a few paces behind, it was like it was building beneath her skin, her diaphragm heavy with a pressure she thought she recognised as the need to dispel her magic. She concentrated on the tender stems of the flowers in her hands and taking even steps and then, as Chelsea moved off to sit on the left, on her brother, the smartest he'd ever looked, standing in front of the minister with his best man beside him.

Kay matched his huge grin with one of her own and then came to the end of the aisle and looked to the right. There was her seat, next to her mother, and in the row behind, Harry.

Her heart leapt dangerously as he looked up at her, and his smile was so warm and inviting, she almost decided to sit on his lap. It was stupid and extremely vain that it felt like he was there for her, when both Joe and Sandy had asked him to come. And it was his house. Still, his presence made her feel like all her harassed and nervous energy was easing a little.

Her mother looked up and Kay remembered herself. Tallulah patted her hand as she settled down, latching onto her wrist, her smile trembling. There was a handkerchief already in her other hand. They weren't going to make it through this without tears – thank the Goddess for Tina's magical mascara.

Kay's own smile faltered as she looked down the row of chairs and saw that her mum had placed Auntie L and her husband between her and Kay's dad. He was the father of the groom and he had been shoved almost into the corner. She stiffened and was tempted to pull her arm away from her mother, but it wasn't like they could discuss it right then and she didn't want to taint the ceremony in any way.

Joe's face when Sandy appeared at the back of the room started the avalanche of emotion again within her. The wedding march began and when Sandy had been given away and they started to say their vows, everything was bubbling up inside Kay. It was the equivalent of knowing you had a sneeze building while you had a mouthful of food, a tension developing in her chest as she tried to suppress it rather than metaphorically spray the congregation with crumbs.

Resting her flowers on her lap, she reached back with her left hand, slipping it behind the gauzy tail of the bow decorating the top of the chair, not quite sure what had possessed her, but Harry's fingers were there a fraction of a second later. Top digits hooked over hers, which should have seemed tenuous, but instead just focused all her nerve endings on the warmth and strength of his hand.

She took a couple of deep breaths, still jangling inside, and he shifted, the spicy scent of his aftershave wafting over her as he inched close enough for his hand to cover hers, fingers around her wrist and his thumb tracing a shape in the centre of her palm. He repeated it slowly.

A heart.

He was tracing a heart on her palm. There was no medium for the magic, despite the tingling. He was just there, holding her hand and distracting her because he knew she needed it.

It was possible it was backfiring though, because now inside she was full to bursting. And when Joe and Sandy were declared husband and wife, and they leaned over the beautiful autumn bouquet for a kiss, there was a crackle overhead and a shower of light like the falling sparkles from a firework erupted around the room.

A collective gasp sounded and heads tipped back, watching the gold and silver as it fluttered down towards the crowd and then dissolved away. Everyone clapped and began standing up to see the happy couple walk back down the aisle.

Harry's hand withdrew so they could stand too and Kay's eyes skittered over the guests when her brother and new sister-in-law made it out of the room, going back into the dining room. Luckily, there were only knowing smiles on some faces and curiosity on the non-magical ones. The protective magic had worked. The non-magical guests thought it had been a clever special effect, planned for the moment.

‘That was very pretty,' Harry leaned forward to murmur in her ear, sending a shiver down her neck as his breath brushed her skin.

‘As far as mistakes go, I guess.' She bit her lip, a flush on her cheeks as she turned to look at him. Now they were standing, Kay could see he was wearing a dark charcoal suit with a bright blue tie … and that her family were watching them with interest.

They fell into step as they followed everyone out to line the wide hallway and throw confetti. Her shoulder brushed his arm as though her body couldn't stop itself from seeking his, and she caught a small glimpse of his lopsided smile. There were shadows back under his eyes and the hollows of his cheeks seemed more pronounced than they had earlier, but she supposed he didn't have Tina's magic make-up to repair the damage of their jaunt across Europe. At least, she hoped it was that.

‘How is your dad doing?' she asked.

‘No change that I can tell. He's been pretty stable for the last week, according to my mum.' He rubbed a hand on his chest, beneath his tie. ‘I was so convinced when I was away that I had to get back to him, I should feel relieved now, but …' He shrugged.

‘Has the itchy-magic-compass feeling not gone?' She leaned closer, lowering her voice. Honestly, she'd be sneaking inside his suit jacket in a moment.

‘The what?' His smile was slow. And dazzling.

‘Oh,' she wrinkled her nose. ‘That's what I call it.'

His eyes scanned her face, before he seemed to remember himself. ‘Right. I like it. But no. I'm home but it's still … coming and going.'

‘That must be driving you to distraction.'

He laughed. ‘You could say that.'

‘You won't try to figure it out?'

‘I already gave that my best shot when I went out to Prague in the first place. I thought I was moving in the right direction, but nothing has actually changed, so maybe …' His eyelashes lowered as he glanced down at her mouth. ‘I just have to be patient.'

He wasn't talking about her , was he? There was no way Leon had been right when he said he thought Harry's magic had sent him to Prague for her? He was talking about his dad and somehow helping him with this mystery illness. That would be the thing his magic would be focused on.

‘Kay.' Her mother appeared with some of the small boxes of confetti Jaz had prepared. ‘You need to come and stand with the rest of the wedding party.'

Kay took a box by its little cardboard handle, juggling it with her flowers, and flicked a glance at Harry. She wanted to invite him along. She knew that Joe and Sandy wouldn't mind. Their big day wouldn't be happening at all if it hadn't been for him.

Maybe that was why he'd had to find her? To be with her for when Joe and Sandy needed the use of Ashworth Hall – his magical link to protect the witching community of Biddicote teaming up with his itchy magic compass. But … Joe was married now. Harry had saved the day. The feeling would be gone, wouldn't it?

Before Kay could invite him, her mum offered Harry a box of confetti too, accompanied by a politely dismissive smile, and then hooked her arm firmly through Kay's to pull her away.

Joe and Sandy emerged and the hallway was full of cheers and a shower of pastel petals – which might have lifted up higher and swirled in perfectly aesthetic eddies – while Becca stood at the end, taking photographs of their beaming faces.

The wedding party followed, heading for the first of many staged photographs that would be taken during the break between the ceremony and the reception, and when Kay looked back down the hallway, Harry was already gone.

Half an hour later, Kay's cheek muscles were spasming from smiling so much, she was desperate for a wee and sure the effects of the energising tea had stopped working. Joe and Sandy had disappeared to have a break before the reception started and the rest of the wedding party were finishing up with family and couple photographs.

‘Where are you going?' Her mum noticed her breaking away from the group and followed her to the door.

‘Just for a comfort break.' Please don't say you'll come with me, she thought. She needed a breather.

‘OK, sweetheart, hurry back, won't you.'

Kay forced a smile. She'd been hurrying since 6.30 a.m.

After finding a downstairs bathroom far away from the reception room, she came out into the hallway and let the quiet wrap around her. Small sconces lit the way, making pools of golden light at intervals on the deep carpet. She sighed and checked her watch. She could afford ten more minutes of solitude. One of these rooms must have a sofa.

She moved further down the corridor. She recognised this part of the house. It was where Adrian Ashworth's study was, and the door which led out to the path down to Biddi's cave. It sounded very unlikely he'd been using it recently, so maybe it would be a good place to go undetected for a while.

Pushing the thick door open, it resisted a little against the pile of the carpet before swinging smoothly back. She closed it behind her and a couple of lamps automatically began to glow.

It was bigger than she'd imagined it would be. The huge windows were set deep into the walls and gave away the fact she was in the oldest part of the house. A big desk, with stately armchairs facing it, was loaded with books. To its left was a wide fireplace, a clock and some photographs along the mantel. Above was an old family portrait, at least half a dozen people at a variety of ages, in a picnic scene. They all had ruffs around their necks, a woman – likely the mother – sitting at the centre, a tendril of fiery red hair visible beneath the fashionable grey wig. Kay drew closer, wondering if she was actually looking at Biddi and if there were any further clues about the witching family hidden in the scene.

A sudden snap and flare of light made her jump. The fire had kindled to life. Magic worked like an Alexa in this house, switching everything on as soon as it thought you might need it.

Much as she wanted to keep examining the portrait on the wall, she wanted to sit down too. She sank into the armchair closest to the fire and eased her shoes off her feet. The books on the table were a strange mix. Some old and delicate, frayed spines and yellowed pages, alongside newer, leather-bound tomes. Were some of these the grimoires the Witches Council wanted to get their hands on? She was reaching out to touch one of the newer ones – too in awe to touch the old ones without permission – when the door swung open, making both her and the person coming through the door shriek.

Becca used a spell similar to an invisible yo-yo to yank the camera she'd dropped back into her hand before it hit the floor.

‘Kay, what on earth are you doing in here?' She fumbled her folded tripod to rest against the wall and shut the heavy door with a brief flick of her fingers.

‘Sorry. I was just looking for a bit of peace and quiet.' Kay began to get up. ‘I'll go.'

‘Wait.' Becca paused, a frown pulling her dark eyebrows down. ‘It's fine. You stay. You must be welcome.' She took her camera equipment over to the table at the other end of the room and said, almost to herself, ‘You wouldn't have been able to open the door to get in here otherwise.'

‘Oh.' Kay wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Who decided who was welcome in the house? The family or the magic? She glanced around, looking for the runic symbols she was used to seeing everywhere, but instead her eyes fell upon a photo on the desk. Harry in his black graduation gown and cap, lined with white fur. She would have looked away again, but something about his eyes caught her and she couldn't resist leaning forward and picking it up for a closer look. ‘Becca? What colour are Harry's eyes to you?'

‘Ah.' Becca smiled and came over, settling down in the other armchair. ‘So you know about the influencing thing.'

‘He told me. But he didn't tell me what colour his eyes actually are.' She blushed a little, but her curiosity was pressing her too hard for her to drop the conversation. His eyes had always had such an effect on her, suddenly the thought that it was just magic, trying to seduce her – and working – made a lump appear in her throat.

‘Well, since he's my cousin and I do not want to find him attractive, I can see the true colour of his eyes. They're blue.' Becca nodded towards the photo in Kay's hands and started to redo her ponytail. ‘You can see it in any photo of him – the magic doesn't work through a lens.'

Inexplicably, the lump in Kay's throat grew, making it hard for her to breathe. His eyes were the exact colour she'd always thought they were. A deep, vibrant blue, near purple in some lights.

‘He said they weren't the shade of bluebells,' she whispered.

Becca cringed a little bit. ‘You compared his eyes to bluebells?'

The blush deepened on her cheeks and she tried to defend her sappiness: ‘We were young.'

Becca laughed and leaned over to look at the photo, tilting her head as she considered it. ‘I guess they are a similar shade. Depending on the type of bluebell.'

She sat back, but Kay could still sense her scrutiny. She fumbled the photo frame back onto the desk, turning it a little so that he wasn't looking at her. She hadn't been fooled by his magic. She saw him for exactly who he was.

‘Harry can never take a compliment, though. He's painfully determined not to see the best in himself.' Becca sighed.

‘I've noticed he has that tendency.'

They were quiet for a minute and then Becca got up and went to a cabinet by the window. She pulled out a decanter and a couple of glasses. ‘Fancy a drink?'

‘I think I will fall to sleep if I have any alcohol.'

‘Fair enough.' Becca poured herself a drink and took a few long swallows, wincing and gasping. ‘Goddess, that tastes like arse.'

Kay burst out laughing.

‘Listen, Kay, I'm going to talk to you about something, and there's a possibility Harry might get mad at me, but I'm going to do it anyway.'

Kay straightened up in the armchair, as Becca leaned back against the windowsill. ‘All these books,' Becca waved towards the table. ‘They're because we're trying to figure out why the tattoo isn't working. You know about the tattoo?' A dimple showed in her cheek as the blush reappeared on Kay's face. ‘Oh, yeah, you know about the tattoo,' she answered herself, slyly.

‘I've seen it.' Kay cleared her throat. ‘What do you mean, it's not working?'

‘Harry's one hasn't anchored. We've been trying to figure it out for months.' Becca waved her hand to the books on the table. ‘See if there's something we've missed. We did it all according to what his mum and dad could remember, but … there should be a period where the current anchor and the next share the responsibility. Before it's permanently passed on. And it's not happening. I thought maybe his dad was just too weak to put the magic needed into the ritual but … I don't know. I have no proof for that and Harry has a different idea.'

‘If it's not working, does that mean … every time the protective magic is invoked it's draining him? While he's ill? The wedding—'

‘No. Well, it would have, of course. But Harry's activating all the runes and spells in the village, and here when needed, directly at the moment. So that they don't need to seek the anchor for energy, if something happens. Manually bypassing it, as it were.'

Kay thought of all the instances where magic had been used in front of non-magical guests that day. It was no wonder Harry looked so tired. ‘That's … a lot. Too much. He should have said. We shouldn't have come here.' Which was exactly why he didn't say, she realised about a half a second after she said it. He knew she'd object.

Becca sighed. ‘I'm sorry, Kay, I know it's your brother's wedding, but I agree. It's not sustainable. It's like a game of whack-a-mole, but instead of the anchor just responding when the mole pops up, Harry's literally hitting every single hole all the time to try to shield his dad.'

‘Can't someone help him? Spread the load?'

‘It's rune magic. There aren't a lot of witches who can do that and … there are other complications.' Becca took another swig of whatever alcohol it was she was subjecting herself to. ‘The problem is, Harry's got this idea in his head about why the transfer isn't working. He's convinced it comes down to this particular rune, which is unique to the tattoo. It's about inheritance, but Nanny and Granddad Ashworth – or whatever witches they had working on this with them – adapted it. So, it's not based on blood, like usual, which is nice. I mean, they were probably thinking of the fact that mortality rates were so high, but from a modern-day perspective, it's nice to know that the Ashworth family doesn't actually have to produce blood heirs. One day someone might not want, or be able, to have kids.'

‘True. So how does it recognise the heir, then? If not based on blood or simply whoever the tattoo is on?'

‘It's this ambiguous symbol, which we think means something like a trusted family member. And Harry has convinced himself that the problem is, he isn't a trusted family member.'

Kay pulled her knees up under the cool chiffon of her dress, hugging them to her chest. ‘Why would he think his dad doesn't trust him? Surely Mr Ashworth wouldn't have bothered to expend the energy going through the ritual if he felt that way. Wouldn't he have just said who he did trust?'

‘I've tried to say this to Harry. But he feels guilty about moving so far away, against their wishes. There's no denying his parents were disappointed that he left. But then Uncle Adrian got sick and Harry came home and …' she shrugged. ‘It doesn't matter what we say to him, he's sure that's the reason. Even his dad has tried to reassure him, as much as he can when he can't speak. But, instead, Harry's running himself ragged, expending all this energy to protect the village and shield his father.'

‘Have you tried it on another family member?'

‘Not yet.' Becca shifted and looked up at the ceiling. ‘Harry says he doesn't want to put the burden on anyone else. He's desperate to prove himself, I think. If he's still not become the anchor when … it's time … I'll get the tattoo as well, but I dread to think how that will affect him. I mean, maybe it won't work and it'll prove the point that something else is going wrong with the magic, but what if it does work, for some other reason we have no knowledge of, and Harry takes that as confirmation his dad thought he wasn't worthy? It's hard enough losing a parent without that on top.'

The crackle of the fire was conspicuous as they went quiet. Kay played with one of the pleats in the skirt of her dress, smoothing it out and refolding it as she tried to wrestle the ache in her chest into submission. ‘Why did you decide to tell me all this?'

Becca put the glass down and pulled out the chair behind the desk. When she sat down, the lights picked out the red in her hair, showing it had a touch of auburn within the brown.

‘Kay, he went to Prague because his magic called him there. The pull was so strong, he couldn't not go. He found you there. Then this room let you in, when we put wards on it. Maybe you have some magic that can fix this or figure something new out that we haven't thought of?'

She shook her head. ‘I wish I could, but I don't have any healing magic … I don't know much at all about runes. I like history, so maybe I could help with that, but I wouldn't think Harry needed to get me from Prague so urgently to help you do research. I'm really not a powerful or knowledgeable witch at all.'

‘Well, Harry disagrees.'

‘He thinks that's why he needed to find me? To help with this?'

‘No. Or at least, if he does, he hasn't mentioned it to me. It's just the way he talks about you. He thinks you're brilliant.'

Kay took a shaky breath. Becca might have just been flattering her ego, but to what end? It truly wasn't like she could do anything to help. She hated the way Harry seemed to have this capacity to think the worst about himself. She wished she could magic away his guilt. Her heart cracked at the thought that Harry might live the rest of his life never truly believing that his dad forgave him or thought him worthy. She would do anything …

Her stomach tumbled slowly, like the huge wheel at a mill, churning the water up and over.

She could do something. She could use her gift. It should have occurred to her immediately, but she'd spent so long thinking of it as useless, as a curse, it had taken her until now to realise it …

‘The only thing I might be able to do, is tell him how his dad truly feels for him.'

‘You think he would listen to you?' Becca's eyebrows pinched together. ‘He trusts your opinion that much?'

‘It wouldn't be opinion. It's fact. That's what my gift does. When I take these off,' Kay touched the edge of her glasses, ‘I can see the emotional make-up of the bonds between people.'

Becca's eyes widened. ‘That sounds like it might be it then.'

‘Maybe.' Kay scrunched her toes. A pain burned beneath her breastbone. The giddy minute she'd experienced earlier when she thought he might have come to Prague to help her was over, wasn't it? This made a whole lot more sense.

She didn't doubt there was attraction between them. She didn't even suspect Harry of using her. She knew better than that now. But the romantic, childish idea that he'd been somehow fated to find her just wasn't true. His magic was just desperate to stop him from beating himself up constantly. To help his family. She couldn't begrudge it, but she could feel like an idiot for hoping. ‘That's literally it, though, I can't do anything about Mr Ashworth's illness or the anchor tattoo working.'

‘No.' The sadness was clear in Becca's brown eyes. ‘But it might give Harry some peace before his dad leaves us. I don't think it's going to be long.'

Kay hugged herself, a shiver going through her even though the fire was warm and steady beside her. She didn't want to think badly of a man who was obviously critically ill, but what she'd seen and heard of Mr Ashworth didn't leave her feeling confident he loved his son unconditionally. ‘What if Harry's not wrong?' she asked quietly. ‘What if I look at their bond and see that his dad doesn't trust him? That won't bring him any kind of peace, will it?'

‘I appreciate you don't know really him, but he's my uncle and I know there's no way he isn't proud of Harry. How could he not be? Harry gives and gives … it just comes naturally to him. He may have chafed at the other elements of being the Ashworth heir. But looking after everyone,' she shrugged. ‘It's just what he does.'

Kay chewed on her fingernail, turning over the risk in her mind. The thought of breaking Harry's heart, the way she broke her mother's …

Becca rolled her fingers back and forth idly, making the book in front of her fan its pages slowly. ‘And there would always the option to just … not tell him, wouldn't there. If that's what you see. I don't for a minute believe that you will, but you wouldn't have to tell him, would you?'

‘I can't lie. And he'll know I've seen it. I need them both to be in the same room, and he'll know I'm seeing it as soon as I take my glasses off.'

‘I could figure out a way to make it work, I'm sure.'

‘So, I invade his privacy?'

Becca dropped her hand, the book thudding shut. Then she took a deep breath and linked her fingers together. ‘Please, Kay. I honestly wouldn't ask this if I didn't think it was going to help. People are never mad when you give them good news. You will be giving him good news. I'm so sure, I'd bet my … my cat on it. And I love Michael Kitten like he's my actual child.'

Kay blinked her way past Becca's offer and searched inside herself, trying to ignore her automatic rejection that her gift might actually be good for something for once, to whether or not she should use it without Harry's permission. Could she do this? Should she do this? Would she be able to live with herself if she saw something that she could never tell him about? Not without breaking his heart, anyway.

As difficult as that idea was to bear, the thought of turning her back and not helping him when she might have the ability to remove his pain was harder to swallow.

‘OK,' she said. ‘OK, I'll do it.'