Broom with a View (9 page)

Chapter 8: Sometimes a Witch Must Brook No Delays

“Violetta!” Vera screeched, dashing
forwards and peppering the Vampire with blows from her closed lace fan. “Release her, you fiend!”

The girl clung to his arms, not sure if she could maintain her footing if Sebastian was to suddenly let go. “Vera,” she tried to explain. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand everything,” her aunt cried in a breathless hiss. Waving her hands in the air, she conjured the thin veil of a protection charm. “This demon of the night followed you to take advantage of you while I, your chaperone, was recovering from a very trying day.”

Giving Violet a reluctant look, Sebastian gently steadie
d her on her feet, stepped into the shadows, and was gone.

“That’s not it,” Violet protested. “He didn’t mean to kiss me.”

“Of course, he meant to kiss you,” her aunt scoffed. “And the Good Goddess only knows what else he had planned if I hadn’t come looking for you.”

“Please, Vera,” the girl beseeched her aunt. “You don’t understand. It’s not his fault. He’s been enchanted.”

“Enchanted?” Vera repeated with more than a touch of skepticism. “And just how exactly has Mr. Du Monde been enchanted? It was not you who cast the spell, I should hope.”

“No, not me
.” Violet hung her head. “Not exactly.”

With great trepidation, Violet told the story of her morning adventures that led to the purchase of a love charm. She edited her encounter with the violence in the square to make it less shocking for her aunt to hear, not mentioning how Sebastian ha
d snatched her from the clutches of a blood-crazed Vampire. More refining it so that she stumbled and dropped her parcels in an area of the city that was well out of harm’s way. She’d scraped her hand, which gave off a few drops of blood, and when Sebastian came to her aid, retrieving her purchases, he must have inadvertently been captured by the love charm.

“So you see,” Violet finished her tale. “It’s really not his fault.”

“That’s still no excuse,” her aunt sniffed. “Love charm or not, a gentleman does not go around accosting young women just because he is under some type of spell.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to,” Violet said in a small voice. The sound of a stifled cough and the scrape of a boot on stone caused Vera to freeze, clutching her niece’s arm. “There’s someone else up here,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “It’s probably that vulgar young Vampire eavesdropping to hear what you’ll say about him.”

“No, I’m sure Sebastian wouldn’t...” Violet started to protest, but to no avail. Her aunt all but dragged Violet from the tower, pushing her, goosing her with the battered fan, and all the while throwing fearful glances over her shoulder, expecting them to be set upon without warning.

“My niece and I must leave immediately,” Vera announced upon finding the others of their party. “There is no time for delay.”

Miss Hopkins had been putting the final touches on a lavish tent, procured from her handbag,
which she’d filled with Turkish carpets and supplied with bone china plus a variety of cooked meats and candied fruit. She looked over with concern. “Vera, whatever for? Surely your niece can spend one night roughing it in the wild.”

“This is no environment for a young girl,” the Witch stated, her stance firm but her voice trembling with emotion.

“Has something happened?” Hippolyta drew closer from concern for her friend.

“No, nothing has happened,” Vera insisted. “It’s just that I am the chaperone for my niece
, and what kind of chaperone would I be if I exposed her to the Goddesses only know what kind of dangers lurking in the night. We’d much better have stayed at the Belladonna.”

“What say you, Mr. B?” Miss Esther Fate asked. She was not at that moment in possession of the opera glasses but was wearing the fine set of teeth.

The Sorcerer was hesitant to state his opinion. It was obvious the lady was in distress, and Violet herself looked a bit flushed. He wondered what had happened to cause such consternation but didn’t feel at liberty to ask. “Let me check my crystal ball for news,” he finally said, rummaging around in his bag.

He retrieved a translucent orb about the size of a goose egg that glowed with the colors of the rainbow like a prism caught in a beam of the sun. The light illuminated his face and made him look years younger as he bent to examine the crystal. “There’s news on the grapevine,” he said in a hesitant voice. The Sorcerer raised his eyebrows high on his forehead. “A ceasefire has been declared.”

“There,” Vera said with a tone of triumph. “All will go back to normal, and it will be perfectly safe to return to the city.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Count Du Monde said with a shake of his head. “A ceasefire doesn’t mean instant peace.”

Vera did a poor job of concealing her outrage at being addressed by the very fiend whose spawn had insulted her niece. Instead of making any sort of reply, she turned on her heel and said, “Violet, gather your things. We are leaving.”

But leaving in an expedient manner just wasn’t possible. The Misses Fate were tired and very reluctant to leave the tent so beautifully conjured by Miss Hopkins. Sebastian was missing
, and Professor Yog was not to be found, gone for the last three-quarters of an hour. And when he was finally discovered, he immediately joined the Fates in the tent and flat out refused to vacate it.

Vera was on the verge of a nervous collapse.
With the sheer power of determination and pitch of her voice, she forced one of the drivers to harness the horses. “But, Miss Tartlette…” Mr. B made one final attempt to reason with her, “…if you take one of the carriages, it will be impossible for the rest of us to return to X in the morning. What would you have us do?”

“We will send the carriage and driver back to you in the morning, first thing,” Vera told him. “Do not
bother me with your complaints of small inconveniences,” she said while herding Violet towards the conveyance. “Violet’s mother has entrusted me as chaperone, and I take that responsibility seriously. I will not leave a young girl exposed to the carnal lust of the Goddesses only know what creatures of the night.” With that, Vera hauled herself up into the carriage without any assistance and prompted the driver with a smart smack from her closed fan. The vehicle started with a jolt, and the two ladies were headed back to X in the night with dark all around them.

“What an extraordinarily foolish thing to do,” was the last comment Violet heard from Mr. B as they headed down the drive to the ruined castle’s gates.

* * * * * * * * * *

A ceasefire may have actually been declared between the Witches and Vampires, but one wouldn’t know from an observation of the city streets. All was in chaos
, with people swarming to and fro in the avenues and hordes of looters trying to abscond with anything of value from the devastated city. Viewing the chaos from a short distance, the driver reined the horses and insisted that they had to turn around again. There was no way he could protect them if the crowd decided to take the carriage or attack the ladies. “Nonsense,” Vera told him. “Just drive through. I’m sure they’ll give way.” The driver refused. He was, after all, under the employ of Mr. B, not this brittle British lady, and he was not going to risk the Sorcerer’s property, not to mention his own neck, on the whims of an obviously off-balance Witch.

Vera tried arguing with him, but the driver was not to be persuaded, bullied
, or reasoned with. He flat out refused to obey her. “If that’s the way you want it,” Vera finally said with a sniff. “Come along, Violet. Climb down. We shall walk from here, and the driver can bring our luggage along later when he’s recovered from his cowardice.”

“Surely you don’t mean that,” Violet insisted. “What he says is good sense. There is no way he could protect us from the crowd if they set their mind to attacking us. Think of what you’re saying, Vera. We really had better head back to the castle.”

“Absolutely not.” Vera set her chin. “We know what waits for us back there, given the smallest opportunity. We’re better off facing the crowd on foot. I’m sure there are still one or two gentlemen in it, which is more than I can say for the castle.” She made her way down from the carriage without assistance, a thing she could never quite accomplish while in England.

Violet had no choice. She couldn’t leave her aunt to face the perils of a city in turmoil alone
, and she couldn’t persuade Vera to return to the carriage. In the end, she had no choice but to climb down herself and, wand at the ready, do what she could to keep the two of them safe.

The driver lingered in the carriage for a few minutes, fully expecting the ladies to have a change of heart, but Vera would have none of it. Clutching her niece by the hand, she bustled
forwards towards the war-torn city with determined steps. “Come along, now, Violet,” she said, with all the firmness of a governess. “We’ll be back at the Belladonna in no time.” She was about to say more, but a man flung an empty whiskey barrel through a shop window quite close to them, causing her words to be stifled by her scream.

Following the shower of breaking glass, the crowd surged
forwards, surrounding them. “Get back!” Vera lashed out at them with her fan, but the crowd simply ignored her in their pursuit of whatever goods the shop had on display.

“Vera, come on,” Violet urged as her aunt began to quake with fear. “They won’t hurt us if we can just keep moving.” A quick scan behind her informed the girl that the carriage driver had made the prudent decision to move on without them.

A man with a long, bushy beard and drunk with either spirits or the mania of the crowd weaved towards the two ladies. As he drew overly close, Violet sliced her wand through the air. A small electrical charge streaked in his direction, persuading him to strike a different path. “Keep walking,” she hissed at her aunt.

Unfortunately, Vera had expended all her volition demanding the carriage and defying the good sense of the driver. When faced with real danger, she was unable to cope. The violence and sheer size of the crowd overwhelmed her even though, for the moment, none of the crowd’s anger was directed at the two of them. She began to wilt under the weight of her own overwrought emotions. Violet did her best to keep her aunt on her feet by saying in a quiet, firm voice, “Come along, Vera. It’s not much further,” and attempting to support the majority of the older gentlewoman’s weight.

But there’s only so far a girl of sixteen can move a lady of two hundred plus years through a rioting city, and Violet’s strength was quickly drained. That wouldn’t have been so alarming if the horde of people rampaging through the streets had dissipated, but it only appeared to increase in volume.

Vera’s tremors overtook her
, and she sank to the ground, unable to go one step further. Looking down the street, Violet saw a wave of human bodies that was about to crash over them. “Please, try to stand up,” the girl urged her aunt, but Vera’s eyes were glassy and unfocused. Violet knew that unless she was able to pull her aunt to safety, all was lost.

Finding her wand in her hand, Violet jerked it through the air, once, twice, thrice, tracing a triangle above them while whispering a spell she didn’t even realize she knew. There was a flash of light and then a twinkling of gold falling through the air like snow. All around them stood a gazebo that sparkled and shimmered in the night. A table with two chairs materialized before them. The table was set with all the necessities for a light tea. Every detail was there, down to the biscuits. The steam coming out of the teapot seemed to indicate that the water was good and hot.

Vera’s eyes became a little more focused with the appearance of the tea. “Help me to the chair, dear,” she said to her niece. Violet immediately complied. The crowd swarmed around them, bumping and knocking into the gazebo, but no one managed to gain entrance. This was comforting but did little to stop Vera’s hands from quaking. “Would you please pour?” she asked her niece. “If I could just get my nerves calmed down a bit, I’ll get us out of this.”

There was a loud commotion at the opposite end of the street. Violet turned her head to see a fine pumpkin coach careening in their direction. Conveyances shaped like various gourds were all the rage in X that season. The horses had been driven mad by the rioting
and burning of buildings, and it was obvious that the people in the coach were in grave danger as the vehicle rocked tenuously from side to side. The callousness of a large crowd did not work in favour of the occupants, who might have received a little more compassion if they could be seen, but all the shades were drawn. The mob swarmed around the fine coach, jeering and laughing. A group of men decided it would be diverting to tip the coach, and they gathered on one side to accomplish that small bit of violence. “The people,” Vera croaked in a hoarse whisper, “in the coach. Surely they’ll be killed.”