“Do it now, Abigail, or so help me, I will incinerate the young one. I don’t care, and you know it.” In his free hand, he held a glowing ball of deadly witchfire.
Abigail fought back tears, hating him so much. “One day I’m going to destroy you,” she said through clenched teeth.
Big Mama tossed aside three witches with an angry rear of her head. The wild creature would soon tear through the netting. If only she could devour this he-witch, Abigail thought, erase all their problems.
Several of the witches called up balls of witchfire, prepared to launch them at the thrashing Omera, but Vertulious called out, “Don’t harm her. She’s too important—she’ll lead us to others. Now, Abigail, call her off. Before it’s too late.”
Abigail couldn’t stop the tears running down her face. She walked up to Big Mama, who glared at her with rage-filled eyes. “I’m sorry. I wanted to warn you. It’s my fault. Please stop fighting them, or they’ll hurt Starfire.”
Big Mama screamed in rage, tossing her head as Vertulious raised his arm, prepared to launch his witchfire at the young creature.
“Last chance, Abigail,” he said.
“Please, Big Mama. Please,” Abigail pleaded. “Do as he says.”
Big Mama slowly calmed down. Vertulious approached her warily. He nodded at the witches, and they pulled the netting free. She reared her head back, snarling at him.
Eat him, Abigail thought. With one bite, tear him apart.
But the other witches still held Starfire in the nets. Big Mama tossed her head as Vertulious stood before her, waving his hand through the air as he recited a powerful charm spell.
“Melly onus, stella kalira, demos mora gestera.”
The fire in Big Mama’s eyes dimmed like coals going out. Her body relaxed, the steam rising from her nostrils now the only thing moving.
“You see, Abigail, with your help we have returned the Omera to where they belong. Under our control.” Vertulious stepped up to Big Mama, put a hand on her neck, and pulled himself up onto her back.
“What should we do with this one?” a witch said, pointing at the whimpering Starfire.
“Bring it,” Vertulious said. “It’s too small for battle now, but it will grow with the proper training.” He kicked Big Mama in the sides, and she took off into the air with a screech. The shreek-Omera snapped at Abigail before following its master.
“We always thought you were a traitor to the coven,” the witch holding Starfire said to Abigail. “Tonight you proved you belong. Welcome, sister.” She led Starfire off, leaving Abigail shattered.
Chapter 8
Hugo lay awake, staring up at the ceiling. His rucksack was stashed under his bed—he’d made sure to pack warm mittens and an extra-thick sweater. He’d been nervous at supper, barely able to answer the worried questioning from his parents. Emenor had studied him with those knowing eyes of his, as if he knew what he was up to. Hugo had ignored him, trying to enjoy the farewell supper his mother had prepared, but his stomach had been in knots, and he’d pushed his food around his plate.
He was about to doze off when the face of his brother floated into view.
“What are you up to, you little turnip?” Emenor grabbed Hugo by his shirt and hauled him upright.
“Nothing. What’s your problem?”
“My problem is you have a way of getting into trouble, and that affects me. If I hadn’t stopped you from standing up for that Orkadian brat, you would have sent this entire family into the streets.”
“I wish I had.” Hugo hung his head. “I wish I had stood up for my friend, even if it meant everyone else suffered.”
Emenor clapped him lightly on the ear. “That’s because you’re a turnip head. Our mother would never have forgiven you. I would never have forgiven you. So spill it. What are you planning, and why are you dressed?”
Hugo lifted his eyes. Part of him wanted to confess everything, but the other part worried what his brother would do.
“Do not even think about lying to me.” Emenor twisted Hugo’s shirt until it was hard to breathe. “I’ve known you since you took your first squalling breath. And I will protect you until you take your last,” he added in a low voice. “So tell me what you’re up to so I know whether to throttle you myself or let you run off and do something foolish.”
Emenor loosened his grip and sat down on the edge of the bed. Pale moonlight came in through the slats of the shutters, striping his face.
Hugo searched for the right words. “Do you think this war is a good idea?”
Emenor shrugged. “War is a way of life around here. I try not to think about it.”
“Now who’s lying? I know you don’t like it. I’ve seen your face when everyone’s talking about it. You’re the only one who doesn’t look happy.”
“So?”
“So what if I could stop it?”
“You?” Emenor laughed. “You’re a turnip head, or have you forgotten?”
“Maybe. It’s just … I have an idea how to make this war go away.”
“So spill it.”
Hugo told him about their idea to find the hammer of Thor.
“You’ll never find it,” Emenor scoffed. “And even if you did, he’d never give it to you.”
“Says who? The gods have helped mankind before.”
“They’ll throw you in the dungeons for even thinking this. It’s too dangerous.”
“That’s what Abigail said, but one of the witches, Madame Malaria, thinks it can work.”
Emenor’s eyes brightened. “Malaria said to give it a go?”
“Yes, she doesn’t like Vertulious.”
He snorted. “How could she? He fired her—didn’t like the competition. So let me see if I have this straight. You plan to try to find Thor, a known giant killer and possessor of the most powerful weapon in the world, and what—ask to borrow it?”
“Something like that. It’s sort of a work in process.”
Hugo waited for Emenor to drag him out of bed and take him straight to the High Witch Council. Instead, Emenor slumped back, running a hand over his shorn scalp.
“When did you get so grown up? This is a good plan, Hugo. It’s crazy, but if it works, it could make a difference. There are those of us who quietly worry about the witches’ hunger for power. If that Vertulious gets his way, this world will be nothing but dust and ashes.”
Hugo threw his arms around Emenor’s shoulders. “Thank you. I promise, I won’t let you down.”
Emenor patted his head, then held him at arm’s length. “How is it Abigail is going to go with you? She’s a witch. This will be treason.”
“She’s going to tell Madame Hestera what I’m planning and ask to come along to keep tabs on me.”
Emenor’s hands dropped. “She’s going to tell Madame Hestera?”
Hugo nodded. “It’s the only way she can come along and not be a traitor.”
“You little fool,” Emenor hissed, yanking Hugo close. “You’re going to bring the witches down on us.”
“But—”