Page 38 of Reluctant Witch (A Course in Magic #2)

38

Prospero

Prospero felt the weight of every decade of her life as the moments ticked by. She couldn’t force words from her dry lips. The air she’d need to do so was impossible to find, and her lungs had begun to make a strangled whistling noise. The weight of the lungs themselves was wrong, as if dirty water filled them, and a pain throbbing in her bones made tears fill her eyes.

This was it. Death. Like Allan and Monahan, she was about to end.

Ellie saved me long enough that they’d all live—Scylla, Sondre, Walt. Just like Cass’ prophecy. She saved me, and in doing so saved all of us.

Well over a century of life had seemed liked a lot once upon a time, but then she fell in love. Finally. After all these years of keeping her heart hidden from everyone, she’d let go of her walls.

Her gaze found Ellie, who had done something awful to stop the magical ropes that were trying to find energy to drain. Ellie’s mouth was moving, and she dropped to the floor where Prospero had collapsed.

Monahan fell to the ground, slumped over.

Both Sondre and the Norwegian went to the fallen witch.

Voices were blurring as Prospero’s eyes felt heavier.

“Don’t sleep,” Ellie ordered, all but yelling the words into Prospero’s face. “Do you hear me?”

Prospero heard a door open. A new voice twined through the others in the room, and then a vibration began. Prospero forced her eyes open, trying to warn them so no one else was injured by whatever that vibration was. Her throat wouldn’t work, and her lips wouldn’t part.

Prospero tried to at least gesture toward the door, but instead she toppled into Ellie’s lap like a cornhusk doll. She stared up at the still-young face of her bride, glad they had had one night together before this.

I want more.

The vibration grew louder until the entire room hummed as if hives of bees had been set loose in the room, but Prospero couldn’t move or speak. If there were bees, the others should get to safety.

Ellie’s hand threaded through the remains of Prospero’s wisps of hair, but Prospero’s hearing was so nearly gone that she couldn’t understand whatever Ellie was saying. She stared at Ellie’s mouth, trying to read the words on her lips, but Prospero’s vision was fading, too.

Except the bees. I hear them coming.

But then everything went dark, as if an explosion had rocked the infirmary, and Prospero felt her body and Ellie’s sail through the air. Her final thought was that she hated that Ellie was injured, that she was useless to help her, that she was too weak.

Everything stayed dark, and Prospero was not expecting to be able to lift her eyelids again. She’d barely had the energy to blink a moment ago, so she was surprised that it was painless to do so now.

The infirmary looked like a storm had tossed everything into the air and walls. Debris was everywhere, but Prospero could move again. That, too, was unexpected.

“Ellie? Love?”

“Prospero!” Hands reached for her, pulling her into a soft bosom. “You’re… wow, you’re—”

“Old. I know. I told you. I won’t hold you back, though.” Prospero stared into her wife’s eyes, grateful she could tell her the words that Ellie needed to hear. She wasn’t sure why she could speak now, or hear Ellie, but she hurried to get the words out. “I release you. You can have a life here without the burden of an old—”

“But you’re not old.” Ellie laughed. “You were. I thought you were dying. I wasn’t fast enough. I couldn’t do it. I’ve never killed anyone until…”

“You killed him?” Dan said. “That’s a relief. When I opened my eyes and saw that he was ashes… well, mostly. There’s a jaw with some teeth still in it.”

“Dan.” Ellie swallowed visibly. “You’re… here.”

“Did you hit your head?” Dan looked around. Louder he said, “Hey, Dr. J? I think Ellie hit her head.” He scowled. “Why’s everyone staring at me?”

“You were dead,” the stranger who had been crouched in the corner said. Ian. That was his name. Remedial witch Ian.

Dan laughed, but when no one else joined in, he looked at Axell. “For real?”

“I killed you,” Prospero said.

“Lie.” Dan folded his arms. “Still a witch. I can hear lies, and that was a lie. This is not funny, guys. Telling someone they were murdered is—”

“I killed you,” Ellie said softly. Her admission rang true, and everyone in the room had to realize it.

“Oh.”

“You drained Allan until he was a husk… and then when Prospero started aging…” She straightened her shoulders. “I don’t regret it. You were killing her.”

Dan said nothing at first, and Prospero wondered how much she was going to have to erase from his memory. Then he shrugged. “Your wife’s a scary bitch. I guess knowing I could kill her makes me feel a little better around her.”

Ellie gave him a measured look. “I won’t hesitate to kill anyone who endangers my wife.” Her gaze drifted from Dan over to the chief witch and she repeated, “Anyone.”

And Prospero flinched. Ellie was publicly threatening the chief witch.

Walter gave her an appraising look. “I knew you’d make a good match.” He grinned like a cheerful grandpa. “Figured she needed someone vicious to love her the way she needs. Glad you’re up to the task, Miss Brandeau.”

Prospero’s mouth gaped open.

“I assume all of your recollections are back,” Walter asked.

A different sort of feeling washed over Prospero.

“Yes,” Ellie said. Her voice was biting as she added, “So nice of you to meddle and announce that.”

“Whatever magic the boy scooped up came boiling over when you stopped his heart.” Walter looked around the room. “Your belly?”

“Healed. Barrier up at full unwavering strength,” Scylla answered.

“Memories?”

The headmaster’s wife said, “Intact.”

“Addiction?”

Axell answered, “Cured.”

“And I’m not dying anymore.” Walter stood and stretched. “Feeling better than I have in centuries. Be ready to collect Aggie tomorrow.” His gaze spanned the room. He paused. “Dionysus. That’ll be you now.”

The Norwegian looked stunned. “Me?”

“And you,” he said, waving a hand at Dan. “You’ll take House Grendel. Siphon those who need it, weigh out justice. We’ll need some polish to do a better job of the siphoning, though. That attempt was a bit messier than we would typically want.”

Then he walked up to Prospero, kissed her forehead, and pronounced, “I’m done being chief witch. I’ll try to see to it that you get saddled with it next. Mark my words. I know it was you and”—he shot a glare at Scylla—“and you who lobbied to sentence me to it. So I’ll be sure to toss this pile of dung to one of you. See how you like it.”

Then he left the room, cheerily calling, “I’ll summon you when I find Aggie.”