Supernatural Fog: Supernatural Freak, #2

Supernatural Fog

Supernatural Freak Book 2

Louisa Klein

http://www.wattpad.com/story/9059864-supernatural-fog-supernatural-freak-2

©2016 Supernatural Fog by Louisa Klein. All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted, save with the written permission of the author.

PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS BOOK IS WRITTEN IN BRITISH ENGLISH: if you’re American, you’ll find some words spelled differently.

CHAPTER 1

The fire demon

The demon is gigantic. Like, twenty feet tall. At least. It appears to be made of thick, white-hot volcanic rocks. Looks like a sort of evil Ben Grimm of the Fantastic Four. Only bigger. Much, much bigger. And it’s spitting lava and fire, of course. What fun would there be, if it wasn’t spitting lava?

A little help here, Morgan? I shout while dodging a jet of lava as big as the Pope’s car.

No, it’s holy ground, growls Morgan, aka the Abomination, flapping her crow-like wings while peering in at us through a broken window, her monstrous mouth twisted in a grimace. If I touch that floor, I’ll burst into flames.

I see her point. A church is holy ground. All Hallows by the Tower is the most haunted church in London, but still, holy ground! And, if it’s so sacred, then Demons shouldn’t be able to pop out of holy ground like daisies. Not if I could have my say about it. Me, Robyn Wise. But, I see I don’t have a say …

Girl, may I remind you that you are the incarnation of the Rabbit? I holler at my winged friend. You know, the animal spirit … My ally?

She says nothing. Grumpy, as always. I don’t know what she was like before being contaminated with elf blood then turned into a monster, but let’s just say that said accident did not improve her character.

I cannot believe the timing here! It’s been quiet and peaceful for the past month and then BANG! Fire demon in a church. Right after each and every member of my ‘team’ has left town.

Faerben! I shout, and my Arabic dagger Sikanda glows, conjuring a faerben — a sort of flying skateboard made of fairy light that I use in emergencies. I jump on it, shoot towards the demon, and cut its right hand with the dagger. The monster growls in pain, then regroups and throws five giant fireballs at me, which I dodge, thanks to my supernatural agility.

Reverend, are you absolutely sure that it came out of the crypt?

Ab ... Absolutely ... stutters Reverend Oliver Green, the terrified ghost of the priest of the once Catholic church.

I was resting in my tomb ... When there was this ... Like, an earthquake and then … Fire … And I thought ...

That God was finally sending you to Hell? I know! I cut him off. Our conscience is not that clear, is it, Reverend?

He looks away.

Did you see a portal opening? Feel a change in the magic fluxes?

No.

I jump left, cut a ball of lava in two, and throw a dart of fairy magic at the demon. But the demon barely flinches.

Something is not right … This is not normal, Morgan growls, showing a row of black fangs.

Honey, nothing is ever normal when I’m involved, don’t you know that by now? I snap back.

The demon has re-grown the hand that I severed, and is throwing balls of lava and infernal flames all around, setting the place on fire.

Please, save my home! the reverend moans, floating around helplessly.

Easier said than done! I shout back. I don’t even know how this thing got here in the first place, let alone how to destroy it. All I know is that I was patrolling with the Abomination during a calm, clear winter night when we spotted the smoke and felt the demon’s aura. The rest is history. And, soon, I will be history too, unless I do something …

Look out! the reverend screams as I dodge a block of marble falling from the ceiling. The heat is becoming unbearable.

Morgan! I shout, more than a little irritated. Fly in, or no one will make it out.

Why should I care if you die?

Uh, because I’m your best ally against your beloved dark elf, remember? Get in here!

If I touch holy soil ...

Fine, I will create a barrier! Fly in! I roar, blocking a jet of lava with Sikanda’s energy.

Morgan breaks through the wall. I cast a protective spell around her, just in case she falls to the ground.

This is an ancient demon, from the infernal abysses, the Abomination growls, now fighting by my side. A long, black tentacle grows from her wrist and she starts using it as a whip against the monster. It has a very powerful aura … Now that I’m closer I can say it for sure ...

I’m so impressed by your deep analysis! I say, cutting another lava ball in two. I mean, one doesn’t need to have the Rabbit’s super empathic powers, to understand that Evil Ben Grimm is a big shot. The fact that it’s walking on holy ground is a huge clue.

Someone is controlling it , Morgan continues, ignoring my sarcasm. It’s angry … It was brought here against its will ...

Someone is controlling it? I shout while the Abomination’s whip captures one lava ball and throws it back at the deliverer. Could it be Layla?

After all, the Rat had tamed another infernal monster just a month ago. A Magog.

Morgan shakes her monstrous head, her long black hair floating in the hot air. No, she yells back. I cannot feel the Rat whore’s aura, nor the Elf’s. And, I would, if they were involved. It’s someone else ... Something else ... And that smoke ... Around its feet ... That’s what allows it on holy ground … It’s some kind of protection ..."

The smoke around its feet? I thought that was produced by the heat …

Morgan lifts a pew from the floor and sinks it into the demon’s chest. The demon is barely hurt but does struggle to remove the offending bench, which gives me a few seconds to examine the smoke.

Keep it busy for a minute! I yell at the Abomination, then I jump on my faerben and fly to one of the church’s highest beams. Here the heat is a little bit more bearable and I can better assess things.

Morgan is right. That’s no normal smoke. Even from a distance, I can see that it’s somehow thicker, more dense ... And it moves differently, as if … As if it too was alive. I should have noticed it earlier. On the other hand, when you’re busy dodging lava, you tend to miss a few details.

I could try cutting it with Sikanda; I was told it can cut anything. Problem is, there’s no way I can get close enough to do it. That thing’s too hot. Plus, if Evil Ben Grimm explodes in here, it will demolish the whole church. The oldest church in London. I read classics and archaeology at Cambridge. I cannot let this happen! Still, how to ... A flash and there it is. A crazy idea crosses my mind. Crazy, but it could work.

Really need your help here, Cat, I say to my inner animal spirit, right before jumping off the beam onto my faerben.

Reverend, I need holy water! I shout at the trembling ghost.

Holy water? Now? he stutters. But all the water in the stoups has vaporised, how can I?

Find a tap, fill a glass with water, and bless it! You’re still a priest, right?

I’m a dead one ...

That doesn’t change anything! Go! I snap, dodging a fireball and cutting in two the pew the demon extracted from its chest and threw at me. Morgan, I need your help, here!

Of course you do, Cat! You’re incapable of doing anything on your own …

I choose to ignore her harsh comments. For now.

To destroy the demon, we must throw it in the river. The Thames is not far.

What’s your plan for getting it there?

I’ll use holy water to … Motivate it ... I gasp.

I’m tiring. All this dodging and cutting ... Plus, I’m afraid I’ve been using too much magic. Again. Got to finish this. Quickly.

Here’s the water! Reverend Green yells, carefully moving along the wall, a big glass of water floating in front of him.

Great! Morgan, cover me! I yell.

She growls, annoyed, but starts whipping the demon like crazy, preventing it to from moving.

Thanks, Reverend, pray for us, I say, snatching the glass of holy water.

OK, now I must concentrate just a little bit … I need a tiny little spell, nothing major… I can totally do this ... I shut everything out. I don’t hear a sound anymore. I concentrate and make the water’s surface simmer. Then, several bubbles appear on it and take off, floating and dancing in front of me. I look at them for a moment: they’re beautiful, reflecting a kaleidoscope of multiple lights and colours.

Bordgelac, I mutter. Sikanda glows and the water bubbles are instantly covered with a shell of fairy magic.

LOOK OUT! Morgan roars, just in time for me to avoid a falling beam.

So you care for me after all! I’m so touched ... I yell while jumping back on my faerben. She ignores me.

With holy water bubbles orbiting around me like tiny satellites, I shoot toward the demon. As if to do me a favour, Evil Ben Grimm is now in the ideal position: between me and Morgan, and the main door.

Throw everything you’ve got at it, I’ll back you up! I shout at Morgan, who nods and starts grabbing pews and debris with her organic whip and throwing them at the demon.

"Eat this, jerk! Àweorpan! I shout as the first two water bullets leave their orbit and streak towards the monster, hitting it on its face and shoulder. He lets out a painful groan. The holy water works! The mysterious smoke, or whatever it is, protects only its feet, not the whole demon!

Keep going, Morgan! Push it against the door!

The Abomination frantically throws furniture and bits of debris at the demon, using her whip, as well as her claws.

Àweorpan! I shout again, and two more watery bullets hit the monster, this time on its chest.

The demon steps back. Twice. It hurls a lava ball at us, but we dodge it successfully. The Abomination responds with a hail of debris.

Don’t stop! We are nearly there! I shoot my last three bullets, carefully calibrating my aim, and strike its eyes, blinding it.

It’s now close enough to the door ...

Earendel! A powerful ray of fairy magic shoots from Sikanda, hitting the demon and propelling it through the exit, destroying part of the wall. It’s out! Finally! It’s on its knees, must act now before it gets up again …

Aeftan! I bind the demon with a strong rope of fairy magic connected to my farben. Come on, Wise. You can do it. One last effort ...

We take off, the Abomination on our heels, whipping it to keep it at bay. Barely. Although blinded and wounded, the demon is still alive and kicking. Literally. And it’s heavy. So heavy.

I feel like I’m about to vomit my heart. My head hurts like hell; my body hurts as if every single bone is broken.

We are gaining height. And speed. Waves of nausea hit me. I must resist; we’re nearly there ...

Tólýsednes! I yell, stopping abruptly in mid-air, while the magic rope disappears, hurling the roaring monster into the Thames. A massive amount of vapour is released the moment the demon touches the water. For a few seconds, I cannot see anything through the cloud. Then, when the humidity starts fading, I see what’s left of the demon melting in boiling water, right before being swept away by the flow. Thank God it worked. I land on the pavement and vomit. Then I search my inner pocket for my Ambrosia flask and drink it in one gulp. My blurry vision clears and I see the Abomination standing right in front of me. She’s sniffing the air.

The air has changed, Cat, she says. And I don’t like it.

Without waiting for a response, she flaps her crow-like wings and is off.

As for me, I’m far too exhausted to fly home. I’ll catch a black cab.

CHAPTER 2

Training

Once I reach my house in Montague Street, all I want is a hot bath and a cup of tea. Tea first. Kitchen downstairs.

Hey boss. You look awful! says a skinny guy with a full head of brown curls. Albert, whose tall frame slouches over a cup of steaming coffee, regards me from his spot at the oak table in the middle of the room. He’s wearing his favourite Superman pyjama. Guido, a fat bloke with thick glasses prepares tea at the counter, sporting his Indiana Jones t-shirt. It’s 4 a.m. Now, I know my geeky housemates like the back of my hand, and Superman pyjama + Indiana Jones T-shirt mean only one thing.

You guys having another World Of Warcraft marathon? I ask, collapsing on the sofa near the stove. My fluffy dog Martino sleeps soundly on the rug in front of it.

You bet we are! Guido answers, enthusiastically. And I am kicking his arse, he nods at Al.

Don’t get cocky, mate, Al protests. There’s another five hours to go ... he turns to me. What about you? Had a rough night?

Sort of, I sigh. Had a hell of a girl’s night with the Abomination. You know, the usual thing. We dressed up and went hunting for guys. We found a very hot one in All Hallows’ By The Tower. Big guy with a rocky chest. He could also throw lava balls and spit fire, which was such a turn-on. I was told church goers had a secretive, yet turbulent and exciting sexual life, but never believed it until tonight.

They stare at me, wide-eyed and speechless.

The first to speak is Guido. You’re saying, he exhales, handing me over a cup of tea. That you found a fire demon in a church?

I nod. And a very ancient one, I add, not without pride. Straight from the infernal Abysses.

And ... What did you do with it?

Just threw it into the Thames, I shrug.

They both swallow. I wonder if they’re impressed or simply terrified. I bet on the latter.

This is ... bad, right? Guido continues. I mean ... Demons on holy soil ... It’s not normal, is it?

No, it’s not, I confirm. They’re both regular human guys, but after three years living with me, they’ve picked up a few things. And ‘demons on holy ground equal trouble’ is one of them.

Is Puck in? He might know something about this stuff, I enquire, inspecting my dog’s fur where the sprite usually sleeps. And, yes, Puck is that Puck, the one good old Shakespeare talks about in ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. He’s a sprite and Queen Titania’s right hand man. Martino made friends with him while at my parents’ house, over a month ago. I still have to find out what Puck was doing there.

Don’t think so, Guido says. He left a few hours ago after eating practically all the honey that was in the jar! And it was my favourite honey!

He says, nodding dispiritedly at the empty Winnie The Pooh jar near the cooker.

That was my favourite honey, mate, I correct him. Not that it makes any difference, the geeks help themselves to my food since forever. Let’s hope he comes back soon and knows something. Otherwise I don’t know ...

Yeah, Everyone else is out of town! Al says.

Well, not everyone, Guido insinuates. What about Booty-Call Andrew? He could help you, right? And on so many levels …

Both the geeks grin, wagging their eyebrows at me.

Look, you must stop this, I sigh, rolling my eyes. Since they found out that I used to sleep with Andrew Mackenzie when we were Cambridge students, they keep teasing me about it. I have no intention to tell Mack about this and …

Why? Al interrupts me, chuckling. Because he wasn’t just your bed buddy, but the Love of Your Life and now you’re ashamed and afraid of your feelings and …

Nope, I cut him off. Because I have recently found out that: a) he works for the Wizard London Council, and you know I’m not really the Council’s favourite person; b) he has a weird aura and suspicious powers I knew nothing about and c) since I saw him at Susan’s investiture, he insists on seeing me/dating me, or whatever, which is impossible because of the above reasons …

HE WANTS TO SEE YOU?! the geeks yell, simultaneously.

Wow, the plot thickens! Guido comments. Why don’t you say yes? After all, he doesn’t know who you really are. You could have a cup of coffee with him, have a good time and maybe find out about his aura and powers in the meantime.

He told me that he was contaminated with fairy blood when he was a baby. That’s the official explanation, at least. Since it wasn’t dark fairy blood, he didn’t turn into a monster like Morgan. Still, I’m not sure he’s telling me everyth …

You could stop talking and, well, act, Al suggest, still chuckling.

Look, this is serious, guys, if you’re in the mood to joke, I …

OK, sorry, Guido apologises. What about James? Is he still in Ireland?

Nope. After helping with the great fire at the Wicklow Mountains Park, he’s settled in at Oxford, helping Terry to keep an eye on my parents.

When are they coming back then?

My uncle is coming back in two days, since my parents are flying to Paris in the late afternoon, I start, unsure of what to say.

James and I kissed right after I slew the Magog, which made James freak out and flee to Ireland, under the excuse of ‘further investigating the fairy migration’. Then there was this huge, mysterious fire at the Wicklow Mountains National Park and he went to help, along with other wizards from the Irish Council, who backed up the fire brigades. Thousands of acres were irreparably burnt, it was a very serious emergency. And even then, in spite of how terrified I was for him, I had news and updates only from his sister Suzy, not from him directly.

Thankfully, a week later the fire was extinguished and he moved to Oxfordshire to help Terry protect my parents. My uncle was recently revealed to be the incarnation of the Spirit Of The Dog, so he can produce extremely powerful protective force shields. Still, his power is mostly passive and he would definitely need extra help if mum and dad were attacked. I’m the first Cat incarnation ever with friends and family, which makes everyone I love a potential target for the Cloud’s allies. Thank God my mother is a super-famous fashion designer and her work will take her and Dad to Paris in a couple of days where they will stay for three weeks while Mum works at the new collection.

I don’t really know when James is coming back, don’t know his plans … I finally say.

What do you mean you don’t know James’ plans? Since when? Al argues.

I ... I don’t think I can tell them the truth. They would make a big deal of that kiss and it’s not really the case. It’s ... It’s only that he and Terry are really busy protecting my parents. Plus, unlike my uncle, who’s there ‘visiting’, James must be careful not to be seen. He’s constantly invisible and that requires a lot of concentration, you know. He’s too tired to update me, that’s it.

Al nods, along with Guido. Thank God they bought it!

What about Susan? William? Walsingham? They could help you, right? Are they coming back from Scotland soon?

No idea. William comes back to update me, from time to time, but I haven’t seen him in three days. I can communicate with the lot of them only sporadically, using Orffyreus’ wizard sphere. According to Suzy, it’s the only way not to be tracked by the London Council. She’s there secretly trying to convince the Scottish Council not to sign the Wizard Underground Act.

The what the fuck? Guido interjects, while preparing himself a cheese sandwich.

I told you about it last week, remember? When Susan and Walsingham went to Scotland to convince the Scots to prevent the London Council from building the Wizard Underground. You know, because of the Seal Of Merlin?

They stare at me with glassy eyes.

Guys, why do I bother telling you things, when clearly you don’t listen to me? You asked me about this stuff!

Er ... Sorry, we’ve been busy these days, Al apologises. The website for that indie rock band was insane to pull together. We had to finish it quickly, so that they’d pay us ...

Oh, you got paid? That’s great news. So, I assume you can finally pay me your rent. You’re three months behind, if I’m not mistaken ...

They exchange a quick look.

Tell us about this Merlin thingy.

I sigh. Well, at least I’ve given it a try.

The Merlin Seal is, as you might easily gather from its name, a seal created by the Great Merlin in the mist of times. There used to be a passage to the Underworld here, long before London was founded. All sort of creatures came through it: demons, monsters beyond our imagination. Their presence messed up the magic fluxes so much that it created dimension paradoxes and limited the powers of most witches and wizards. So, Merlin sent them back to their home and closed the passage with the Seal, placing it deep underground, to better protect it. He surrounded it with all sort of magical barriers and protective spells, to make sure no one could destroy it, no matter how powerful he was. Unfortunately, for obvious reasons, the old man didn’t take technology into account. And according to what Suzy told me, the vibrations caused by the building of the first line of the London Underground damaged the Seal a lot. To a point that the London Council at the time had to abort its plan of building a special Underground, just for the magical people. A plan that apparently Suzy’s brother has brought back to the table ...

And I am back, my dears! A musical voice trills, followed by an almost as musical ‘pop’.

And there he is, Sir William Burrow, Duke of Worthington. More handsome and elegant than ever, wearing a late eighteenth century grey frock, under which shines a bright red tartan vest. Although he’s been dead for nearly three centuries, he still cares a great deal for fashion. I am finally back from the savage north, although I must admit, they do make exceptional cashmere up there!

I’m so happy you’re back, Will! I say, with a relieved smile.

So am I, my dear. And in spite of the fact that I am not bringing any good news ...

Don’t worry, nor am I, I quickly reassure him.

Nor are you? he frowns. Why? What’s happened?

She had a close encounter with a Fire demon, Al interjects. An ancient one.

What? Good Lord child! When did it happen? And where?

Er ... A few hours ago, I say, hesitantly. And it was in ... In a church ...

Goodness gracious!

Yeah, I know. My life’s damn complicated.

The crystal spheres are beautiful, floating and shooting through the air, following random trajectories.

Today, the Survival Room is rectangular, with a wooden floor and walls of dark bricks. I say ‘today’ since its size and shape changes constantly, according to the type of training required.

There are twelve spheres, each a different shape and weight, each representing one of the Twelve Spirits, including the Six who turned evil. I have nothing to defend myself against them. Nothing, besides a wooden sword and telekinesis. And God knows I suck at telekinesis.

Unfortunately for me, God isn’t the only one to know. My bitchy trainer Leonora is also very aware of it. She’s quite determined to turn my life into a living hell. Today in particular, as I am extra-tired because of my encounter with the fire demon. I didn’t tell her, though. I don’t think it would make much of a difference to her. She would just think I’m making excuses.

Number three, eight, nine, eleven, attack! she shouts and four crystal balls immediately shoot towards me, at one hundred miles an hour.

She is a beautiful Spanish woman, with the face of an angel and the attitude of a pit bull. She knows no mercy. Thanks to my supernatural agility, I duck two of them and hit the third with my fake sword. But I can’t do anything about the fourth one, which hits my stomach, knocking the breath out of me. I collapse on the floor, holding my belly.

Get up and fight! Leonora shouts.

Gimme a minute ...

You won’t have a second in battle! One, four, five, attack!

My eyes are still shut from pain, but I somehow see the spheres in my head and roll over my hip, before the biggest one hits the spot where I was lying, leaving a small hole in the wood floor.

Hey! That could have killed me!

Nonsense! No one dies in the Survival Room! Concentrate!

She snaps back. True, you cannot get killed in this training room, since there’s protective magic all around. Still, one can get hurt badly. I know for sure. It happens to me all the time.

I backflip to the left, avoiding a smaller sphere as fast as hell, hit another with my sword and send it towards her. It barely misses her head. Touch down! No, that’s American football, I’m afraid. Well, I could never learn the rules of cricket, let alone baseball ... I was never the sporty type.

Stop ducking! Divert the spheres, use your mind!

Leonora is furious. Her perpetual state when she’s training me. I wonder if she turns into a sweet, understanding lady when I’m not around. It may well be the case. A sort of Jekyll and Hyde in skirt, and I would be the potion turning her into a massive pain in the ...

Use your mind! my trainer yells again, sending another bunch of spheres against me.

I avoid a big one, hit another with my sword and cut a double caper to put a distance between me and them. Maybe I’ll have two seconds to catch my breath ... No, that was far too optimistic of me.

One, seven, two!

That damn woman hasn’t even finished shouting the numbers when the three shoot like bullets towards me. I take a deep breath, hit two of them with my sword, double back-flip to the left to avoid the third one.

See? I say, while landing on my feet. After all, I can do all right without telekinesis and ... Ouch!

The crystal I dodged has bounced on the wall behind me, coming back like a sneaky, evil curve ball hitting my left side. Very hard. I collapse on the floor, holding the injured area. I heard a crack, and strongly suspect it was one of my ribs, since that damn ball is floating in front me, its surface completely intact.

You are useless, sighs Leonora. Her long, black curls cover part of her beautiful, yet furious eyes. Oh God. She’s mad at me.

You haven’t even tried to stop one single crystal using telekinesis, she hisses.

I was too busy trying to avoid them ... I exhale, each word a painful stab to my left side.

That’s the whole point of the training, girl: you must learn to concentrate, to use telekinesis while under attack, but you don’t even try! she gives me a long, dispirited look. You’ll get us all killed, she finally says. And I can see she really means it. We’re done for today. Go have your healing bath. Doctor Orffyreus will come later to check on you, as usual.

She gives me another dark look, shakes her head and leaves the room.

CHAPTER 3

The Victorian Gentlemen’s Club

12,000 years ago the Dark Cloud came to Earth to fee on Fairyland’s magic. In an effort to help Queen Titania, the Jade Emperor, who I suppose is a positive entity or something, sent twelve animal spirits with a thirteenth one leading the way (the Cat, aka me). There was a huge battle and at the end the Twelve imprisoned the Cloud and its minions in a mystic prison. But before being locked-up, the Dark Cloud brought down a curse on the animal spirits, rendering them dormant and imprisoning them in human bodies, to later be awakened when the Cloud’s allies return to Earth every hundred and twelve years. Yeah, the Cloud’s minions can free themselves and they also happen to be six ex-allies of mine: six spirits turned dark, roughly five hundred years ago.

Maybe I have a sort of persecution complex, but it feels like a well-oiled machine was set into motion millennia ago, just to screw me up. I should have found the other spirits by now, I should know how to fight the Cloud, but the truth is that I’m totally clueless.

I sigh as I sink into the bath. At least now I’m physically better. There’s nothing like a good healing bath to fix you up and snap your bones back together. Literally. Plus, the Victorian Gentlemen’s Club’s bathroom is like a cool spa, with wood flooring, a huge bathtub with copper feet. On the light yellow walls hang elegant paintings of Victorian gentlemen riding horses and playing polo. The club was created just as the Victorian era ended. This, in fact, is a non-place – a place where time never passes and the Victorian era never ends. Here, only Victorian gentlemen are admitted, with no exceptions. Unless you are the reincarnation of the Cat. In that case, you get to be an honorary member, even if you are a young lady born decades after Queen Victoria’s death. One of the upsides of having an ancient spirit as a squatter in my body, I suppose. I get out of the tub, wrap myself in a dressing gown of red silk and sink into a comfortable armchair by the fireplace. On a low, ebony table beside me, there’s a silver plate with a fat teapot, a pile of cucumber sandwiches and a slice of Victorian sponge cake. I sip tea from a blue china cup. The sandwiches melt in my mouth. I so deserve this, after the last crappy twenty-four hours.

I extend my hand and fish a small, slim book from by bag. It has a ruby red cover and carved on it are a golden rampant dragon and a sleeping, silvery cat. This book is the Cat’s diaries, a collection of all the notes and stories written by all Cat’s incarnations who ever lived. And died, mostly of a violent death. Walsingham gave it to me a few days before leaving for Scotland, stating that I was finally ‘ready’ for it. It looks short, but it’s bewitched. It’s actually a very, very long book. Reading it is part of my training and, considering how behind I am, I’d better read it and learn it by heart as fast as I can.

I was expecting to find in it at least some answers to my many questions but, so far, I was rather disappointed.

Thing is,