FIRST AND LAST AND ALWAYS

 

THANA NIVEAU

 

 

There’s a danger in wanting something too much, and when you couple that with sorcery, the consequences can be grave indeed. Thana shows us what happens when a casual witch takes the plunge into a more complex arcane world than that found in popular books on love magic. Desire has its own kind of magic and in playing with it, Tamsin finds herself on a dangerous path.

 

 

TAMSIN PLACED HER hands on either side of her phone and gazed intently at the picture of Nicky she’d taken the day before. Her heart soared as she said his name aloud.

The flickering candlelight gave him the illusion of movement and Tamsin could almost believe she was watching him through a portal, seeing him as he was right at this moment. After a few seconds the picture faded and the screen went dark. She peered into the smooth black surface, focusing on the afterimage – Nicky in negative, overlaid by the reflection of her eyes and the ghostly glow of the flame.

“Nicky.”

When the image behind her eyes finally faded, she tried to see beyond the scrying glass of the phone’s screen, into whatever dimension the emptiness might reveal. Past, present, future – she didn’t care as long as she saw him.

When nothing happened she tapped the screen to wake it up, to reveal the photo again and repeat the entire process.

It was just a quick candid shot but she’d captured the vibrancy of the setting sun. Nicky had been on his way to rehearse with his band, Valhalla, and he was smiling at someone out of frame. His head was turned slightly to one side. She’d shot straight into the sun, creating a dramatic lens flare that partially obscured one hazel eye. A lock of black hair fell over his other eye, just reaching his cheekbone.

Tamsin tried to visualise herself in the picture with him, her long blond tresses transformed by the evening light into burnished gold. That was how she liked to imagine she looked to him, anyway. Her hair was her best feature. It fell in lustrous waves halfway down her back and it made her average face a little prettier, gave her the wild, windblown look of a gothic heroine. Nicky had complimented her on it one day when she’d had it down and she’d worn it that way ever since.

“Hey there, Tamsin,” he’d said, hearing the click of her camera phone.

His low sleepy voice turned her knees to water. And his smile...

“You coming to our show tomorrow night?”

It was only a half hour spot at a local student hangout but to Tamsin it may as well have been a major concert.

“Of course,” she’d said, thrilling to the sound of his voice. It rang in her ears as she cast about for something else to say. Anything to keep him there for another minute. “Oh – I saw the video you guys posted on YouTube.”

He’d blushed then, shyly lowering his head as though he had anything to be shy about. She’d played the clip endlessly, imagining that every time he looked into the camera, he was looking right at her.

“Oh, it’s just a demo,” he said. “Rob said we should build up an online presence before we send anything to the record companies.”

“Just a demo? It looked completely professional to me!”

“Thanks.”

Nicky smiled again and they shared an awkward silence before he glanced at his watch. “Well, guess I’d better go.”

“Yeah,” she’d said, dying but not daring to take another picture of him. She’d already copied all the ones on his Facebook profile and even printed some of them out. Her favourite one sat in a little gold frame on the nightstand by her bed. His beautiful pale face in closeup, his eyes meeting hers every night and every morning.

“OK, see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “See you...”

The memory of the conversation echoed in her mind as she woke her phone up again and said his name, willing him to hear her in his mind, to acknowledge his true feelings for her. She was dressed and ready for the concert, determined that tonight would be the night. Tonight he would love her back.

But it was not to be.

 

 

VALHALLA PLAYED FIVE songs and Nicky was brilliant, as always. The pub was full of students who cheered as though they were at the Glastonbury Festival. Tamsin stood as close to the stage as she could but Nicky didn’t look her way once. He seemed completely lost in the performance, singing with his eyes closed, oblivious to everything but the music. Someday he would be a big star. Tamsin had no doubt about it. But she had to make sure he was hers before that happened. Once he was famous he would be hounded by groupies. Girls with tramp stamps and black lipstick. Tamsin was what he needed, what he really wanted. He just didn’t know it yet.

After the show he was surrounded by his friends and Tamsin’s stomach clenched with jealousy at the sight of all the other girls flocking around him. There was no way she could push her way through the crush of bodies. It was torture to be so close to him, yet unable to reach him. Torture to watch him with all those other girls, none of whom understood him the way Tamsin did.

Tears blurred her vision and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing her mascara. She couldn’t let him see her like that so she made herself turn away. As she opened the door of the pub she glanced back one last time, hoping he would sense her anguish and signal to her to stay. But wishing only made the reality worse. He hadn’t noticed her at all.

That night she sat cross-legged on her bed, staring forlornly at an uninspired Tarot spread. It was her third attempt. Each time she had managed to draw cards that told her nothing meaningful or even relevant. The Knight of Cups hadn’t appeared in any of the three spreads. Cups represented the world of feelings and the Knight was the most romantic card of all. But he was nowhere to be seen tonight. Nicky’s symbolic absence felt like a sickness, something that would grow and spread until it consumed her and spat out her indigestible heart.

She swept the cards away in disgust. Her chest felt tight, as though her insides were trying to shrink away from the pain. If she closed her eyes she saw his face. Her skin burned for the touch of his hands.

Her flatmates had teased her about him, calling him “goth boy” and other dismissive names. Beth had drawn a cartoon of him as Dracula and Chrissie had once left a pair of comedy fangs in the bathroom for her to find. Tamsin was sure they didn’t mean to be cruel; they just didn’t understand. After all, neither of them had a boyfriend either.

At least they didn’t mock her religion. Beth had got Tamsin a book on witchcraft for her birthday and she had tried both the love spells in it. They were of the ‘bad poetry and herbs’ variety, probably inspired more by Harry Potter than by any real magic. But she’d tried them anyway, feeling silly for doing it and then feeling even sillier when they didn’t work. What had she expected?

She’d been so sure he would notice her tonight. Her feelings were too intense to be only one-sided. In desperation, she powered up her computer and began searching online for proper love spells. She quickly found a naff website hawking ‘love spells that totally work’, along with ‘amazingly accurate’ astrological charts and other rubbish that was probably just designed by spammers to harvest your email address if you were gormless enough to provide it for a ‘personalised’ reading. But there must be other witches online, real witches who knew what they were doing.

It was on a forum called eBook Of Shadows that Tamsin finally found what she was looking for.

 

In order to truly love something, you have to make it part of you.

 

The post was by someone called Osprey and she was relating a story her gran had told her.

 

There was a young girl who lived with her family on a farm. Times were hard and one year there was a drought, the next year a flood. The crops were destroyed and the family was facing ruin. But the girl was in love with a boy from the neighbouring village and she was terrified that her parents would decide to move. If they did, she knew she would never see her true love again.

So she cast a spell to bind them to the land. She took a spoon and circled the farmhouse, collecting one scoop of soil for each member of the family. That night she sprinkled it into the stew her mother made and mixed it well. She said a few words over it and wished very hard for it to work. Her family complained that the food tasted strange but they ate it all the same.

A year passed and love continued to blossom between the girl and the boy even as the crops failed yet again. Her family was forced to sell all the animals but they insisted on staying with the farm. Friends and neighbours urged them to sell up and move somewhere else, suggesting that the land was cursed. No one could understand their stubborn refusal to stay. No one but the girl, who lamented their poverty but was comforted by the knowledge that now she could never be parted from her soulmate.

 

Tamsin had no idea if the story was true or not, but she liked to think it was. At least the happy part. She knew she was supposed to be too old to believe in fairy tales, but she couldn’t help it; she was a romantic. She wanted to believe that wishes came true, that love conquered all. Most of all she wanted to believe that there were magic spells that worked.

She lay awake in bed for several hours that night, her mind racing.

In order to truly love something, you have to make it part of you.

How could she make Nicky a part of her? The girl in the story had bound her family to the land by physically feeding it to them, although perhaps she should have tried binding herself to the boy instead. Tamsin had tried so many different love spells over the months but nothing had worked. Was it because none of the spells had any physical link between her and Nicky? Gazing at his picture and saying his name wasn’t getting her anywhere. She might as well be clapping to keep Tinkerbell alive.

She was always hearing about girls who had date-rape drugs slipped into their drinks. How hard could it be to turn the tables? But the very thought made her feel like a stalker. She didn’t want to rape him; all she wanted to do was make him recognise what was already inside him. Surely there was no harm in that. But even as she brainstormed different scenarios, she knew she couldn’t spike his drink in a public bar. If he saw her – or worse, if someone else saw her – that would be the end of everything.

No, whatever she did had to be done in private. And the only way to do that was to screw up her courage and invite him over for dinner. But what could she feed him? It had to be something she could sneak into the food undetected but most importantly, it had to be something uniquely hers. Uniquely her.

The question obsessed her over the following days. Then one night while she was revising for a poetry exam, the answer jumped out at her. It was a line by Thomas Carew.

 

Those curious locks so aptly twin’d

Whose every curl a soul doth bind.

 

Tamsin sat before the mirror, her heart pounding. In the joy of her discovery she looked radiant and she brushed her hair slowly, sensuously, as she focused her mind on crafting the perfect spell. She pulled several loose hairs from her brush, wondering how many she would need. But as she looked at them, curled in her palm like a tiny nest, she knew it wasn’t right. Those hairs were already dead. She dropped them in the bin and met her eyes in the mirror.

Then she carefully selected a strand of hair from the top of her head. She smoothed away the other hairs around it and tugged. It did not come free at once. She had to pull it several times before she yanked it out at the root. The pain was astonishing. It was only a single hair but it felt like someone had jabbed her scalp with a needle. She cried out as it came free and wasn’t surprised to see a tiny drop of blood on the end.

Her voice trembled as she whispered, “First.”

With her fingers she combed through her hair on the left until she isolated another strand. It also proved reluctant to come out and when it did it brought with it another drop of blood.

“And last.”

She moved to the right for the final strand, taking hold of it firmly and holding her breath. She yanked, hoping it would pull out more easily than the others. But it was the most difficult of all. Only after many painful jerks of her hand did it finally come out. She yelped and had to resist the urge to scratch her scalp, to rub away the burning sensation where the hairs had been plucked.

She took a deep breath and laid the three strands side by side on her dressing table. “And always,” she said. “Mine.”

The blood held them together at one end and Tamsin weighted them down with her phone while she set about plaiting them together. She found herself humming as she did, barely aware of the warm trickle from her scalp until the blood dripped into her eyes. She paid it no mind. Her hands completed the task as though guided by external forces.

When at last she had a long thin braid she wiped the blood from her face and knotted the ends together to form a circle. It would remain unbroken until the right moment.

She tucked the charm beneath her pillow to keep it close to her while she slept. She knew it would bring her dreams of Nicky, dreams that were about to come true. In the morning her pillow was stained with blood.

 

 

SHE SAW HIM the next day, chatting with his friend Rob, and she didn’t hesitate. She had dressed up for the occasion. Her athletic frame was showcased in her tightest jeans and a lacy purple top. She’d worn a push-up bra and gothed up her makeup. Smudged black eyeliner and blood red lips. Just enough to get his attention.

It worked. His face broke into an easy smile as she walked boldly up to him before she could lose her nerve. Rob was eyeing her cleavage.

“I saw your show the other night,” she said breezily. “It was awesome!”

Nicky’s smile broadened. “Hey, thanks! I wasn’t sure about that Sisters of Mercy cover. Was it really OK?”

Rob jumped in before she could answer. “Of course it was. I told you.” He rolled his eyes at Tamsin as though compelling her to agree with him.

But Nicky was still watching her expectantly, waiting to hear what she thought. She hid her exhilaration and nodded as though she had any business telling him whether something was good or not.

“I thought it was brilliant. Better than the original.”

His eyes shone with genuine delight and her heart twisted a little at the thought of him doubting his talent. And before the opportunity could slip away she said “Do you want to come to mine for dinner tonight?”

He blinked in surprise but his smile didn’t falter. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rob’s face fall a little.

Nicky glanced at his friend and then back at Tamsin. “Sure,” he said.

“Great! I’m making a curry. Hope you like it spicy.” She knew full well he did, just as she knew loads of other little things about him that he’d never told her. Just to leave him in no doubt about what was on offer she added, “My flatmates are away for the weekend.”

He actually blushed. “Brilliant,” he said.

Her heart leapt and it was all she could do to maintain the casual act. “Cool. It’s a date. I’ll text you my address. What’s your number?”

It was almost too easy. Just like that, the deal was sealed.

“Well, I’ve gotta get to class,” she said. “See you tonight!”

Nicky waved as she trotted away, pretending to be in a hurry. She felt lighter than air.

Mine, she thought.

 

 

SHE SKIPPED THE class she’d pretended to be late for and went to Waitrose to buy the poshest ingredients she could find. Then she spent the whole afternoon making the curry. Soon the aroma of coconut milk and chillies permeated the flat and Tamsin left the meal to simmer while she tidied away the few things Beth and Chrissie had left lying around. She closed the doors to their rooms and opened her own like an invitation.

She placed two red candles on the small dining table and set it as though she were entertaining royalty. A bottle of chardonnay was chilling in the fridge although she suspected Nicky would prefer beer. Too bad. This was her big night and it was going to be classy.

Choosing what to wear took even more time. Jeans were too casual but a party dress would look like she was trying too hard. She eventually settled on a flirty red skirt and a black velvet top. She admired herself in the mirror and looked at her watch for the hundredth time. She’d told him to come at six and there was still nearly an hour to go. She spent it pacing, checking the curry, making minute adjustments to the place settings, straightening the pictures on the wall and making the bed. With a gasp she suddenly spotted the framed photo of Nicky by the bedside and she hurriedly shoved it to the bottom of her underwear drawer.

That done, she returned to the curry. She would have to wait until the very last minute to add her secret ingredient. The kitchen smelled heavenly and she was sure the spicy brew would disguise any odd flavour. But she threw in an extra chilli and another splash of ginger wine just to be sure.

At ten to six she put on some music and tried to slow her galloping heart as she waited for Nicky to arrive.

He was almost ten minutes late. Tamsin had been just about to text him when she heard the entryphone ring. She took a deep breath and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Tamsin? It’s me, Nicky.”

Warmth flooded her face and throat at the sound of his voice. “Hang on, I’ll buzz you in.”

She hung up the phone and pressed the button to unlock the downstairs door. Then she ran to the bathroom for a last look at herself in the mirror before racing back. She could hear his boots thumping up the stairs and she held her breath until he reached the door, opening it before he could knock.

To her delight, he had worn her favourite shirt. It was a deep silky black with vivid green pinstripes. He always wore black but the green brought out the colour of his eyes. She stilled her trembling hand against the door as she closed it behind him.

“Smells good,” he said.

Tamsin smiled. And when he told her she looked nice she thought she would faint. “Want some wine?” she just managed to ask.

“That’d be great, thanks.”

They sat side by side on the couch for a while, drinking from the chipped goblets Tamsin had found in a pagan shop. Every time he met her eyes she felt her stomach swoop as though she were falling from a great height. They talked about music, university, films, games, poetry, life. To Tamsin it seemed they talked for hours. She wanted to drown in his voice.

Eventually the talk turned back to Valhalla and Tamsin told him again how awesome she thought his songs were. What he said next made her want to pinch herself.

“I wrote a new song last night. No one’s heard it yet. It’s just me with no music and it’s really rough but...”

“Yes,” she said before he’d finished. “I’d love to hear it!”

He smiled shyly and lowered his head as he fished his iPod out of his pocket. Tamsin took it from him as though it were a priceless artefact and swapped it for hers in the docking station. She navigated to the track he directed her to and she sank back on the couch to listen.

It was all Nicky. Nothing but his voice. It sounded slightly husky and out of tune but none of that mattered. The song was called ‘Blood Mirror’. And he was singing it just for her.

His hesitant voice sang about what lay beyond the mirror, what could be seen and what couldn’t. Black mirror, velvet mirror. A reflection of dreams, of screams. Then nothing at all.

Tamsin felt the words circling her, seeking to enter her and redefine themselves according to her needs. A mirror revealed things. Sometimes hidden things. Like feelings. But try as she might, she couldn’t make the lyrics fit. The song ended on a line about fangs and a reflection in blood and she realised that it wasn’t about her at all. It was only a song about a vampire.

After a lengthy silence Tamsin opened her eyes.

“You don’t like it.” He said it with such dismay that she immediately felt guilty.

“Oh no,” she assured him, “I loved it! I was just... imagining how the video would look.”

She smiled then, picturing Nicky in period clothes, white lace pouring from his cuffs and collar, his razor-sharp cheekbones enhanced by the shadows of the gothic castle he would be prowling as he sang. He would carry a candelabrum, dripping red wax as he leant down over a sleeping maiden (Tamsin, of course), her pale throat exposed and vulnerable.

“Cool,” Nicky said, relaxing. “I’m glad you liked it. I just wasn’t ready to play it for the guys yet.”

“I’m honoured to be the first,” Tamsin said and she genuinely meant it. She had recovered from her initial disappointment. It didn’t matter anyway. After tonight all his songs would be about her. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Good. Put on some music if you want and I’ll get the food.”

She left him on his own while she went to the kitchen and divided the curry into two bowls. Her hands shook as she removed the plaited coil of hair from where she’d tucked it inside her bra. She’d wanted to keep it close to her skin until the very last moment. With a pair of scissors she cut through it once to break the circle and then began snipping carefully along its length, cutting as finely as she could and sprinkling the tiny bits into Nicky’s bowl. The pieces vanished into the liquid where she hoped they would be undetectable.

She put the bowls on a serving tray with a dish of jasmine rice and carried it in to him. Her hands were shaking but she managed not to spill anything. It seemed like a good omen.

“Here we go,” she said. “I hope you like it.”

And she could see that he did. He closed his eyes in bliss at the first bite and made appreciative noises throughout the meal.

She first sensed the spell was working when she caught him watching her as she refilled their wine glasses. When she looked up at him he averted his eyes and she heard his spoon scrape the bottom of his bowl. As a test she gathered her hair in her hands and piled it up on top of her head as though it were suddenly too hot to wear it down.

Instantly Nicky’s eyes flicked back up to her and he stared openly as she twisted her hair into a loose knot, only to let it fall again. It spilled over her shoulders like molten gold. Nicky didn’t blink.

“Still hungry?” Tamsin asked, nodding towards his empty bowl.

He rose slowly to his feet, shaking his head. He didn’t take his eyes off her.

 

 

SHE WOKE SEVERAL hours later in a tangle of limbs, her hair spilling coolly over her naked skin. Late afternoon light was painting the room orange and she opened her eyes to look at Nicky. He was still deeply asleep. In his bliss he looked like a dark angel.

She tried to turn her head but found she couldn’t. Locks of her hair were wound tightly around both his hands, as though she were his lifeline. Tamsin usually plaited her hair before bed but last night she had left it loose and wild for him. Tears welled in her eyes as she replayed the night’s countless pleasures. Kisses and caresses, skin on skin, a blur of passion. Her dream come true.

She didn’t want to leave him but nature was calling and it took some manoeuvring to finally slip out of his grasp. She took the opportunity to clean her face and brush her teeth, not wanting him to wake up and see her with panda eyes.

How he had loved her hair! She could still see the otherworldly shine in his eyes as he gazed at it in the firelight. His fingers had stroked it reverently, combing through the glorious waves and clutching handfuls of it as he made love to her.

“Beautiful,” he’d said, over and over. Like someone in love.

She sighed as she gazed at the girl in the mirror. Her skin was flushed, her eyes dreamy. A girl fulfilled. Her scalp tingled pleasantly as she ran a brush through her tangled curls, each stroke hissing and popping with static. She dropped the loose hairs into the bin and stared down at them, remembering the spell she had cast. It had worked. She was a part of him now, forever.

“Tamsin?”

The sound of his voice made her jump and she shook herself out of her reverie. When she emerged from the bathroom she saw him standing before the window, his body silhouetted against the autumn light.

“I’m here,” she said, curling into his embrace.

He kissed her head and then held her face between his palms, staring at her as though unable to believe she was real. “Last night was incredible.”

Tamsin sighed as she let the words wash over her. There couldn’t possibly be another person anywhere in the world as happy as she was at this moment.

“I have to see you again.”

“I’m yours,” she said, her voice catching.

“Mine,” he whispered, sounding bewildered. He repeated it with more conviction. “Mine.” Then he clutched her tightly and pressed his lips to hers so hard it hurt.

 

 

HE HADN’T WANTED to leave and she hadn’t wanted to let him go. But they both had classes that evening and, frankly, Tamsin needed some time to recover from his attentions. She hadn’t counted on him being such a violently passionate lover. Her insides burned with a deep dull ache and she wasn’t at all surprised to find bruises on her inner thighs. Even her face felt bruised from his kisses. At times it had felt as though he were trying to force his entire body inside her, to devour her.

When she’d finally persuaded him to get dressed and follow her to the door, his eyes had shone with such fervour as he said goodbye that it became uncomfortable. She’d had to look away as she promised she’d see him again later that night.

Tamsin found it difficult to concentrate. Not even her favourite professor could distract her from the strange disquiet. She was thrilled that the spell had worked and the night had been truly magical. But Nicky’s intensity was a little unnerving. There was something alien in the way he had looked at her as she’d shut the door that afternoon. After he left she’d gone to the window and was further unsettled to see him standing across the street, staring intently up at the building, his face a blank, pale oval. Not seeing her, but searching.

But then she shook off her misgivings. Of course, he was bound to be acting a little weird; she’d bewitched him! She hoped he wasn’t wondering too much at his newfound feelings. It should have felt like coming home. But perhaps it would take a little time for it all to sink in. Until then she would have to be patient.

She glanced down at her notebook and saw that she hadn’t written a single word. Professor Canning was talking animatedly about Walt Whitman but Tamsin hadn’t taken in a thing. With a sigh she closed her book, gathered her things and slipped out at the first opportunity.

Her legs ached as though she’d overexerted herself at the gym and she grimaced as she made her way down the corridor. She pushed open the front door of the building and was dazzled for a moment by the glare of the streetlights. The nights were getting longer and the darkness only reminded her how tired she was. She’d barely had any sleep the night before; Nicky had seemed inexhaustible.

Despite her pain and weariness Tamsin felt a smile tugging the corners of her mouth as she recalled the past few hours. She knew that Valhalla had another gig at the end of the month and she dreamily imagined Nicky coiled round the microphone, his silky voice singing words he’d written for her, about her. She knew Rob didn’t like her and the others would probably side with him in thinking she was breaking up the band. But Nicky was better than all of them put together. He could make it on his own if he had to, with Tamsin as his partner and muse.

As she made her way home she became aware of a soft crunching behind her, the sound of someone treading through dry leaves. A chill slithered up her back as she realised she was being followed. She braced herself for a confrontation and then whirled round.

“Hey, creep–”

But it was only Nicky. Her surprise gave way to delight, but her smile melted as soon as she saw his face. His eyes blazed, red and bloodshot.

“Nicky, are you OK?”

“I love you,” he said.

His wild expression dampened the joy she should have felt. “But why didn’t you say anything before? Why were you following me?”

He frowned. “I love you,” he repeated, as if that explained it all.

“I love you too.” The words came naturally to her. She’d said them hundreds of times on her own. But she said them now out of obligation and a sense of – yes, fear. There was something dangerous in his eyes, something akin to religious mania.

He took a step towards her and she flinched at his outstretched hand. But then a look of puzzlement crossed his features and she softened. She took his hand and kissed it, trying to remind herself that this was Nicky Renwick, the boy she had loved from afar ever since starting university. The boy she had now charmed into loving her back.

He shuddered as her lips touched his hand and he moved closer, winding his arms around her. He pressed his face into her hair and moaned softly.

“Nicky, no,” she said, trying to disentangle herself from him. “I was just going home to try and get some sleep.”

“We could sleep together,” he offered immediately, still stroking her hair.

She forced a laugh. “I’m not sure we’d get much sleep.” She cast about for more excuses. “Look, I need to do some major revision anyway. Why don’t you come over tomorrow?”

He blinked at her slowly. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes. I’m really sorry but I’m totally knackered after last night. Hey, why don’t you try to write a new song? Then you can play it for me tomorrow night.”

Her words seemed to be causing him physical pain. His eyes glistened with tears at the rejection, although they widened slightly at the suggestion of a song.

“Tamsin,” he murmured, as though tasting her name. “Yes. I’ll write another song about you.”

She heard the words in spite of her desire to get away from him. Her heart flickered with excitement even as she found the idea unsettling. Another song about her. When had he had time to write a first one?

“This afternoon,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “While you were in your lecture. I watched you through the window.”

The skin on the back of her neck prickled. He’d sat outside watching her, composing a song about her. And then he’d followed her. How long would he have kept it up if she hadn’t heard him and turned around?

She forced another smile. “Nicky, that’s really sweet. And I can’t wait to hear it. But let’s wait until tomorrow, OK? I really have to do some work.”

For a moment he looked as though he wasn’t going to accept her request. But then he nodded slowly and took a step back. “OK” was all he said.

The silence stretched between them for an awkward minute before Tamsin finally said, “Right, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She waited for him to say something and when he didn’t, she turned and walked away. She could feel his eyes on her the whole time, burning through her. It was all she could do not to glance back. But she didn’t need to. She knew he was still watching her.

She felt flooded with relief when she finally reached the flat. She closed the door behind her and flopped into a chair, exhausted by the strange encounter. Clearly the spell had been too strong, but was there any way to moderate it? She hadn’t imagined it would be like this. Still, she was hopeful that it would mellow.

She was too wound up to sleep so she dropped her books on the dining table with the honest intention of trying to do some work. But it was useless. She couldn’t concentrate. The dishes from last night seemed to mock her and the candles had dripped onto the tablecloth to form a waxy bloodstain that reminded her of the hairs she had plucked. Suddenly the flat felt close and stuffy and she pushed her chair away and went to the window. She jerked the curtains open and was about to open the sash when she noticed the figure standing by the streetlight.

Nicky was staring up at the building the way he had been earlier. Only this time he saw her. He raised one hand and waved faintly but Tamsin couldn’t bring herself to return it. She was starting to get seriously creeped out.

She closed the curtains and edged away from the window. Maybe she should go back to the forum and see if anyone there had any ideas. She had just booted up her computer when she heard the thumping. As she made her way past the kitchen she realised with a sense of dread that she’d heard the sound before. It was the sound Nicky’s boots had made on the stairs last night. As he came up.

Either she hadn’t closed the outer door properly or someone else had left it open. She braced herself, expecting him to knock, but all she heard was a soft scratching.

The sound unnerved her more than any dramatic pounding could have done. Tears filled her eyes at the thought of him standing out there, too hooked on her to be able to leave her alone, reduced to scratching plaintively at her door like an abandoned puppy.

“Nicky?” she called, trying to keep her voice steady. “Go home, OK? Please? I’ve got a lot of work to do. Why don’t you come back in the morning?”

He was silent for a moment and then she heard a ragged sob. “Tamsin,” he said, his voice choked with tears.

Her heart burned with shame and pity and she couldn’t bear the thought of the pain she was causing him by leaving him out there. It was her fault he was lovesick and desperate. What was that old saying about being responsible forever for someone whose life you’d saved? Surely the same applied to someone you’d bewitched.

With a heavy heart she turned the lock and opened the door.

He flew into her arms, burrowing his hands into her hair as he whispered fervently that he loved her, he loved her, he loved her.

“I love you too,” she said helplessly, all the time wondering what the hell she was going to do.

He pulled away to gaze at her face. “You’re so beautiful.”

Last night it had thrilled her; now it made her skin crawl.

She pushed him away gently. “I have to use the loo,” she said.

His blank expression betrayed no understanding but at least he didn’t try to force his way in after her.

She splashed water on her face and stared at her haggard reflection. She suddenly looked ten years older. Maybe Beth or Chrissie had some sleeping tablets. She could knock him out while she figured out what to do. But a search of the medicine cabinet revealed nothing but an empty packet of birth control pills.

With a sigh she dropped the box into the bin below the sink. Then she glanced down at it. Something wasn’t right. It took her a minute to realise what was missing. The loose hair she’d dropped into it that morning was gone. With a sinking feeling in her gut she suddenly understood what had gone wrong.

But she didn’t have time to berate herself for her foolishness before the door crashed open and she cried out as she saw the look in Nicky’s eyes. It was the stare of a starving animal, crazed with hunger.

“I love you,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on her hair. He took a step forwards, closing the space between them. Tamsin immediately backed away. Confusion flickered in his eyes for a second and then he moved forwards again and reached out for her before she could move.

She shuddered as his hand settled on her hair and then he was winding it around his hand, pulling it hard.

“Stop it!” she yelped, flailing at his hand. “Let me go!”

He didn’t seem to hear her. He continued to wind her hair around his fist, pushing her down onto the cold tiles as he did so.

She screamed when the hair at last tore free from her scalp. Blood poured hot and wet over her face and into her eyes, blinding her. All at once she couldn’t breathe. She struggled frantically, her hands flailing against the side of the bathtub, feeling for anything she might use as a weapon. From somewhere behind her came a terrible sound. A wet munching. Sickness rose in her throat and she crawled away, slipping in the pool of blood as she felt for the open doorway.

She only got a few feet before she felt his hands in her hair again. The world went black with pain as he wrenched another fistful from her head.

The last thing she ever heard was his voice. Between hungry mouthfuls he whispered, “Beautiful.”