Nettle Blackthorn and the Three Wicked Sisters (53 page)

He eyed her
keenly, waving a hand distractedly. “I didn’t know for sure. Their
flustering has always been centred around All Hallows’ Eve. But
that’s a particularly powerful night, so no clues there. I knew
what they’re mining my family’s mound for, but not why they need
it. That is until,” he said wagging a finger at Jazz, “your cousin
arrived and everyone began clucking around her like a clutch of mad
chickens.”

Nettle felt a
little ill. She’d discovered the sisters were after Jazz, but not
exactly what for. She and Bram stared apprehensively at their
cousin.

Jazz started
to pale, looking from Nettle, to Bram, to Jack. She gulped.
“Me?”

Jack’s gave a look as if to say -
Well it’s a little obvious isn’t
it?

Quary was still keeping a safe distance from the table. He
was finishing off a jar of Nutella. He poked a chocolaty finger at
Jazz. “Ol’
shorn-sheep
here. What they want with ‘er?” Jazz still had enough
spitfire left in her to deliver Quary a blistering glare. He shrank
a little and said, “Just asking.”

Jack swept a
long lingering look about those gathered at the table, meeting each
of their inquiring gazes, finally resting on Nettle’s. “I believe
they’re going to try to resurrect their dead sister.”

At first the
surprise of it all had to seep through Nettle’s mind. “Lysette?
Bring her back from the dead?” Her stomach sunk. Now the goblin had
said it aloud, it was utterly obvious and she didn’t know why she
hadn’t considered that possibility back at the kitchen. She’d been
so blind. All their fussing over Jazz and she hadn’t pieced it
together.

“
They want me?” Jazz asked, feeling weird about the whole
situation.

“
They want your body.”

Jazz made a
half-strangled sound.

When Nettle spoke it sounded distant, as if she was
listening to herself from another room. “I was up there, in their
Atelier. I saw something. It was like a spell or a list of things
needed for a spell or directions or something, I don’t know exactly
what. I remember it said something like…
a vessel named.”

Even while Jazz had been speaking Jack’s, gaze hadn’t left
Nettle’s. He didn’t need to ask, she knew he was saying -
What else was on
the list?

She shook her head, splaying her hands wide and raising her
shoulders. “I don’t know, I can’t remember. Maybe something about
calling the dead to you, and…” Her eyes widened as a memory flashed
through her mind. “
Find the bones of those you seek
.” She snapped her fingers. “And
Smilla and Bristol, it was the Gadfinch Crystal Claudine was
after.”

Jack's jaw
flexed, but he said nothing.

“
What’s that?” Bram asked. He hadn’t been taking notes for
some time.

Jack turned to
Bram, his violet eyes troubled. He spoke carefully and distinctly.
“The Gadfinch Crystal has been lost for centuries, for very good
reason.”

“
That doesn’t sound good.”

“
You’re right. The Gadfinch Crystal has the ability to suck
the life-essence out of every living thing within its proximity.
Every single last drop.”

“
Every, every, last drop?” Jazz’s expression was
queasy.

Jack gave a firm nod, his mouth a thin line. “They’ve been
rolling in mortals by the busload. No one’s leaving apart from the
fortunate ones who’ve survived working in the mines and only
because they’re barely alive and not worth harvesting.” Nettle’s
mouth dropped open in surprise.
So that explains that weird encounter on
the bus. No wonder no-one spoke to me, they were probably
ensorcelled.
“The sisters don’t have the resources to leech the
life-essence from the large crowd they’ve gathered, unless they
have something like…”

“
The Gadfinch Crystal,” Nettle answered for him, her voice
barely a whisper.

Jack violet
eyes glittered darkly. “I fear the sisters are going to do
something quite despicable.”

Bram said
quietly, “They’re going to kill everyone, aren’t they?”

Jack gave a
grim look. “I expect so.”

“
We have to stop them,” cried Bram.

“
We have to save Dad!” Nettle countered.

“
That’s why I’ve come,’” Jack interjected pointing at Nettle.
“You’re exactly what I need, to find out how they’re going to
perform their ritual.”

Nettle
blinked, caught off guard. “Me? What do you mean?”

He changed
tack. “How much do you remember about the tea house and the
sisters?”

“
Everything. I know they were trying to make me forget about
walking into the kitchen with the concoction they brewed.” She gave
Jack a puzzled shrug. “But it didn’t work on me. I don’t know why
though.”

He shook his
head, his mouth half-upturned. “I don’t know either. And I have
absolutely no idea how you survived that fire-ball. Or even how you
managed to remove the Curse.”

“
What Curse?” Bram asked, scratching his nose with the
pencil.

Jack stood up
and rounded the table. Roq followed in his wake. The goblin came to
stand beside Nettle and took her arm. She gave a small growl. “Hey,
be gentle.” But she was curious too. She’d fully expected to see
some kind of sign stating: WITCHES CURSE BEWARE. Jack gave her a
terse look, then lifted her arm up to present her forearm to
everyone else.

Bram squinted behind his glasses, then shot a
maybe-this-guys-short-a-picnic-sandwich
look at Nettle.
“
Ah…
with what? There’s
nothing there.”

Bram was
right, there wasn’t anything on her wrist.

Jack returned Bram’s glance with an irritated look as if
the little boy were wasting his time. “Exactly. I saw them Curse
her… and then she removed it.” His silver eyebrows drew down,
hooding his violet eyes, as he turned a suspicious look upon
Nettle. “
You
shouldn’t be able to do that.”

Nettle had no
idea what he was talking about. She remembered the sisters had
taken a lock of hair and a symbol being burnt on her inner arm. But
she’d scrubbed it away, the symbol flaking off. At the time she
hadn’t thought much about it, besides the fact that it clearly
hadn’t worked as Claudine had anticipated.

Jack turned
her wrist over, inspecting the corroding bracelet and the way her
skin beneath was stained grey from the oxidization. His eyes became
slits as he said, “Direct magic has no effect on you. Well, I guess
not all magic, since you’ve been taken in with the whole
Oldy-Worldy-Tourist-Trap.”

Jazz was
rather pale and withdrawn. She went to ask Jack, “This Curse-” But
his attention was focused on her cousin and didn’t hear her.

Nettle gave
Jack a baffled look, not understanding how she could be immune to
the sisters’ magic. He waved an impatient hand at her and brusquely
said, “I’ll show you. Stand up. Go on. Quick. Quick.”

Nettle turned
a blistering scowl on him. “Stop ordering us around like you own
this place. Where’s your manners? Or don’t goblins have any?”

He returned
her glare with one of his own. “I have manners. For the right kind
of folk. Humour me, I’m testing a theory.”

“
What kind of theory?”

He was
wringing his hands together, his lips tugging into a mischievous
grin. “Now don’t be frightened.”

“
When someone says, don’t be frightened… I can’t help but be.”
She stood up so quickly that the chair toppled over behind her. She
held her palm out to him to stay back. “I don’t know what you think
you’re going to do… but just don’t.”

Uneasy, Jazz
slid out of her chair and edged away from Nettle, rounding the
table to stand near Bram. Nettle scurried backward, hitting the far
wall. Panic flared, sending her heartbeat skittering. There was
nowhere else to run.

There came a
sound of crackling, like energy building.

Quary was scraping an almost empty jar of Nutella with a
long handled teaspoon. He looked up with a panicky jerk.
“
Oi!
”
He cried at the Goblin.

“
Sandee – Roq!” Egnatius cried. “Stop him!”

Spix had
sprung to his feet, deftly loading his sling, and flung a stone at
the goblin. Jack ducked.

“
Watch out!” Bram yelled. But it was too late. Without warning
Jack smacked his palms together and as he drew his hands apart, a
ball of white light expanded into the space created. Nettle only
had a split second to admire the beauty of the plasma, its forks of
lavender and amber crackling within.

“Oooo
– Ligh-
” was all Roq was able to utter while hefting his axe high
above, intending to strike.

With a flick
of the wrist Jack threw the ball of lightening right at Nettle.

The ball of
plasma fizzed across the kitchen. It struck her with such force
that it knocked her to the ground and punched the breath out of
her. The bolt of energy ricocheted off her, rebounding directly at
Jack. He ducked, dragging Bram to the floor with him, but Jazz
wasn’t fast enough. It grazed the side of her head, glancing
sideways to smash into a lantern perched on the windowsill. The
glass exploded into tiny fragments.

Jazz stood stupefied. A patch of cropped hair where the
lightning had slid past had been burnt away. The remaining hair was
singed black and smouldering, flooding the kitchen with that unique
burnt-hair
odour
. There was stunned silence within the kitchen, broken by
Quary’s guffaw, and then suddenly the spriggans sprung together
around Egnatius and erupted into a flurry of excitable
chatter.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Nettle
shrieked. She’d fully expected the spriggans to retaliate on her
behalf but they were too busy gabbing amongst themselves. She only
had time to think –
useless
– before Bram ran over to her. “Are you OK?”

Jack
approached and reached out a hand to help her to her feet but she
shoved it aside. She rose, furious with him but he was too busy
looking her over, impressed. “Not even a scratch…”

“
You could have killed me!”

He gave her a
funny look, as if she were jesting. “Not likely. I told you magic
doesn’t affect you. That’s why the witches spells didn’t work on
you, nor mine. Not even that time at the summit when I tried to get
you to forget about the cave. It didn’t work then either.”

Her thick
eyebrows crooked. No, he was right, she remembered the tapping of
the forehead. “That’s what you were doing?”

The huddle of
spriggans broke apart. Egnatius hobbled forward, his walking stick
made a clacking noise on the wooden bench. He was just about to
speak when Quary interrupted, pointing an accusing finger a Nettle.
“You aint no ordinary mortal.”

“
I know,” she said, recalling the name her father said. “We’re
Good Folk.”

Irritated,
Egnatius thwacked Quary with his walking stick. His expression
became gentle as he addressed her. “No, lass, even though it
bothers me to agree with this blundering block-head.” Quary pouted
at this description, rubbing his stinging shoulder. “He’s
right.”

“
But Dad said…” and then Nettle remembered that her father
hadn’t quite fully answered her.

“
You’re more than Good Folk,” Egnatius urged.

“
I’d bet my good eye you’re one of the Folk.” Quary’s
pitch-black eye gleaming eagerly. “And I’m betting you can get us
past the Thicket.”

Bram gave
Nettle a confused glance. “Can you?”

Nettle shifted
uncomfortably. She hadn’t wanted to admit to that just yet. But
maybe now was the time.

Before she was
able to say anything, Jack spoke. “I expect you’re right,” He was
considering her with a rather wondrous kind of look. “I thought
there was something odd about you when I first met you up at the
cave. But right this minute,” Jack said to the spriggans, “there’s
little time to contemplate what family she comes from.” He took her
arm, drawing her attention to the bracelet. “But what I do suspect
is that this is what’s been protecting you. That’s why you were
able to pass the spells woven around the barrier to the summit and
the cave, why you could enter the kitchen, why they couldn’t force
you to forget and why the Curse didn’t work on you either.” One
side of his mouth tugged unhappily as he took in the dire state of
the bracelet. “But, all of that might not last too much longer. If
it is indeed this bracelet that’s been protecting you – it’s
disintegrating, fast.”

Bram looked
down at his own bracelet, still in good working order. He held his
arm aloft. “Mine’s OK.”

A wave of
relief came over Nettle. Even if hers was falling apart, at least
Bram’s wasn’t.

Jazz made a
choking sound. “I don’t have one of those…” She was still standing
where she’d been struck, black smoke wafting from her head. The
warmth had drained from her complexion, making her big blue eyes
stand out even further. She looked years younger than her age.

Nettle felt a
sudden twinge of guilt. Her cousin had been hurt and she was too
busy arguing with the goblin to take any notice.

Bram shot Jack
an infuriated glare as he walked over to his cousin. “She was about
to ask something before you threw, whatever that was-”

“
Lightning,” Jack answered, rocking back on his heels, trying
to stifle a smug grin.