‘It’s such a shame the weather turned the way it did,’ my mother said as she looked out over the rain-soaked countryside. The huge patio of the Big Yellow House was covered in leaves and debris, signs of the mighty storm from the night before, so we were sitting inside by the window.
I played with the silver star at my throat, but Bryce wasn’t there to see that I was still wearing it, even after what had happened last night. I didn’t care what had happened to Bryce or to Cassidy and Matt after I’d left them – and I definitely wasn’t giving Bryce the necklace back, either.
‘Vania, your mother and I have given it a lot of thought and decided this would be the best present for you.’ My father handed me a slim envelope.
I opened it, expecting to find a cheque for my college fund or something just as practical. Instead, it contained a single piece of paper.
‘Learn to dive with PADI,’ it said.
My heart leapt.
‘We are going to pay for you to learn to scuba dive,’ my mother said proudly.
‘This is awesome! Thank you!’ I leapt up and hugged my parents, last night temporarily forgotten. I pictured swimming in the sea, at one with the dolphins and the . . .
‘Sharks, we are worried about sharks, though,’ my mother said, as though reading my mind. ‘Apparently there are great whites breeding off the coast of Summerland.’
‘Mum, it’s natural for sharks to breed off the coast, and trust me, sharks are not the most dangerous thing in my world.’ I turned my head away as I said this, to hide the smile on my face. If only my parents knew I was casting spells, conjuring storms and having séances with witches and ghosts.
I felt a twinge of guilt about my secret life. My parents were trying to make me happy, and I was hiding things from them. But then again, if they weren’t so overprotective I wouldn’t have to hide things from them.
Or maybe I was being too negative. They had just bought me a scuba diving course and now we were out for a nice brunch for my birthday weekend. I think I was just still a bit rattled from last night. I was excited, too. I had felt immense power when I’d summoned the storm, and it had proved to me again that emotion was what really drove a spell or magical intention. How much I felt, how much I cared, was more important than which herbs or flowers or candles or even other people were involved.
I looked at my parents, who were happily tucking in to their huge plates of eggs Benedict. Mum hadn’t had to tell Dad her order, he’d already known exactly what she wanted. It must be a special feeling to be so connected to another person that you could anticipate their every desire.
I thought Bryce’s desire had been to be with me last night. Except I remembered Bryce’s action, or lack of. He had made no effort to get Cassidy off him. In fact he’d seemed to welcome her flopping all over him. He and Matt had laughed about it. And once again the awful and overwhelming feeling that I’d been made a fool of engulfed me and the feeling of rage crept up again.
The waiter stood in front of me. ‘More iced tea, miss?’ he asked, and at the distraction the rage subsided.
‘Sure.’ I pushed my glass towards him.
‘How are your eggs, honey?’ my mother asked.
I remembered that I was supposed to be enjoying myself. ‘Fantastic, thank you.’ I made my face smile. ‘How are yours?’
‘Lovely, thank you.’
I managed to relax a little . . . until I went to the bathroom. As I stood at the sink washing my hands, the flowered wallpaper suddenly came alive. The green vines started twisting and twirling around each other, and the pink-and-white flowers started opening and closing. I was wondering if the waiter had put something in my iced tea when the three witches from the séance appeared in the mirror, screeching and cackling.
‘Beware! Danger is close at hand
One, two, three, rhymes with tree
Four, five, sparrow, rhymes with narrow.’
‘Go away!’ I cried and thrust my hands towards the mirror to get rid of them. When I touched the surface it rippled like water. Then, as quickly as it had begun, everything was normal again. I was completely alone.
Brenda had said the incense we’d used in the séance would stop the spirits and ghosts we conjured up from haunting us later, but it seemed like a portal had been opened. I was in a haunted restaurant, after all. And it sounded like another riddle that the witches had garbled at me – as if what they’d said during the séance last night hadn’t been confusing enough. Danger was close at hand, according to them. I had known about some elusive impending danger since the twins’ mother had read my tea-leaves. Were the witches talking about my chemistry teacher? Were they talking about the woman of Queen’s Cross mystery? Were they talking about me slipping in the mud after all the rain I’d conjured up?
I returned to my seat ashen-faced.
‘Vania! You’re not coming down with anything, are you?’ My mother brushed my hair out of my eyes, concerned.
‘No, Mum, I’m just really full – and ready to go home and relax,’ I said, smiling weakly.
When our car pulled up to our house there was a visitor waiting.
My mother turned to me. ‘Who is this?’
‘Umm, it’s Bryce.’
My mother leapt out of the car to greet him, but I wasn’t in such a hurry.
‘Bryce! What a pleasure to finally meet you in person – Vania speaks so highly of you.’ My mother turned to me, smilingly enthusiastically, but when she saw the dark look on my face she quickly looked away and gestured to my father instead.
‘Keith, this is Vania’s friend Bryce.’
My father grunted and nodded, extending his hand for Bryce to shake.
‘Nice to finally meet you, Mr and Mrs Thorn,’ said Bryce. He looked over at me standing by the car. ‘Umm, I was hoping Vania would let me take her for a walk along the cliffs.’
‘You can walk off that big breakfast, darling.’ My mother smiled and nodded at me with a knowing look in her eyes.
‘Sure.’ I shrugged and kicked at the ground, scuffing the toes of my Doc Martens, my fists clenching and unclenching in my pockets.
‘I freaked out when you ran away like that last night, Vania,’ Bryce said as soon as we were out of earshot.
‘Well, what was I supposed to do?’ I said. ‘Stand around in the rain watching you make out with Cassidy? Gross.’
‘Look, I tried to get her off, but she was all over me. She’s a loser getting that wasted. And if you remember correctly, I had suggested that we leave.’
He had said that – before he made out with her.
‘And then you conjured up that storm,’ he continued, shaking his head. ‘Cassidy got stuck. A wave came up and knocked her over. Matt and I had to jump in to find her. It was freezing.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry to have caused you discomfort,’ I said, rolling my eyes.
‘Listen, I’ve tried to apologise,’ Bryce said, stopping to look at me, ‘but if you don’t want to hear it I’m not going to waste any more of your time – or mine.’ He turned to walk off.
‘Bryce, wait.’ My fingers went to the chain at my throat. I realised I wasn’t actually all that angry anymore; I’d been partly punishing Bryce for making me feel jealous. I’d poured all my rage into that storm. All of a sudden his side of things had become clear to me, and it would be crazy to throw our friendship away over Cassidy’s drunken behaviour. ‘I do appreciate you saying sorry. To be honest, my whole birthday kind of freaked me out, with the séance, and then Cassidy and Matt being drunk. It was all a bit of a downer.’ I didn’t mention Brenda’s vision about him.
His expression softened. ‘Yeah, I hear you.’ He nodded sympathetically.
‘But I love the necklace you gave me.’ I smiled.
‘I’m glad.’ He smiled back at me, and I shivered as our eyes connected.
We continued to walk towards the cliffs, and my mind went back to the séance.
‘Bryce, when your great-grandmother came through you like that, it made me wonder – do all the ghosts you communicate with do it that way?’
‘No, usually they just stand in front of me. I think it’s because I have a family connection to Bessie that she can enter my body like that. I’ve only talked to a few ghosts, though, so I’m not really sure.’
‘What about those witches? Don’t they count?’
‘I don’t think they were ghosts. I think they were spirits,’ he said.
‘What’s the difference?’
‘Spirits have never lived in a human body. They exist in a parallel world – a world that isn’t solid, and that’s a projection of our thoughts.’
‘Why do you think they came to us?’ I asked.
‘I keep thinking about that riddle. I reckon they were trying to tell us something about the woman of Queen’s Cross mystery, but I can’t figure out what. Hopefully Dean will have some idea.’
‘Bryce . . . I saw them again.’
He turned and looked at me incredulously. ‘When?’
‘At the cafe this morning, in a mirror.’
I explained to him what they’d said.
‘You know, it sounds like it could be the second half of the riddle they told us last night.’
‘Maybe it’s an extra clue,’ I said. ‘But I don’t know what trees and birds and a nursery rhyme have to do with danger.’ I laughed a little as I said this. It really did sound ridiculous.
We’d reached the cliffs. It was soothing to look out over the slate-grey sea. Today it was smooth like silk, but on the sand were tangled knots of kelp and seaweed, dumped there by the storm. My storm.
‘My parents are going to let me learn to scuba dive,’ I said. ‘They gave me lessons for my birthday.’ I turned to him, beaming.
‘Awesome! You can hang out with the great whites!’ he said.
‘You know, that is less scary to me than what happened last night.’
He smiled and nodded. ‘Cool storm, by the way.’
And we stood there staring out to sea together. I was finally really enjoying my sixteenth birthday.
On Sunday Dean and I met at the Purple Raven for lunch and a meeting. Brenda had a day off, so we ordered sandwiches and shakes from a girl I didn’t know.
‘So, I did some research online and I was able to find part of the rhyme the witches told us,’ Dean said proudly. He pulled out the parchment and a stack of printouts.
‘Nice!’ I said.
‘It was actually originally spoken in Latin. I was researching old witches’ curses and when I translated some of them to English, there it was. It’s a warning, implying that someone is waiting for the right time to strike,’ he said. ‘And I think the part that says “the devil plays with his nettle” refers to an old English herb called devil’s nettle. It was used in folklore magic, and this article says that it’s also known as yarrow.’ He showed me a picture of a small flowered plant. The caption said, ‘Achillea millefolium: for treatment of cuts and abrasions.’
‘It sounds more like a medicinal herb than a magical one,’ I said.
Dean nodded. ‘Yes, but all the magical herbs have medicinal qualities, too.’ Yarrow is also used to get rid of headaches . . . and demons, apparently.’
‘Okay, but what’s yarrow got to do with us? And what does this scary bit here mean – “When night becomes day blood will be shed”?’ I pointed at the parchment.
‘The jury is still out on that.’ Dean shook his head.
‘I don’t like the idea of blood being shed. No more than is necessary, anyway,’ I added, remembering when I had cut my hand for the spell to enchant Matt.
‘Not to freak you out or anything, but I think the last line has something to do with someone dying. “Time you do not have.” I think it means time has run out.’
‘That’s full-on,’ I said. ‘You’re telling me someone’s going to die?’
‘Maybe. Although I do have another theory. It could be a reference to the woman who has already died – the woman of Queen’s Cross.’
‘Hmm, maybe! Um, listen, Dean, I told Bryce and I have to tell you now: the witches appeared to me again yesterday.’
His eyes widened as I handed him a piece of paper on which I’d written the second rhyme.
‘Trees and sparrows?’ He shook his head. ‘What do they expect us to do? Go bird-watching?’
I hitched my bag higher up over my shoulder as I walked home. It was heavy with books. I’d borrowed three from the town library after I’d seen Dean – chemistry books that I needed to get through to be ready for an upcoming test. Monday was going to be a full moon, too – a good night to do some magic, which I also wanted to do some research for – so Dean had lent me one of his books on herb magic.
It was getting dark, and with my heavy load I stumbled off the kerb as I went to cross the street. I hit the tar hard, and books went spilling everywhere. Sitting up slowly, I saw that my jeans were torn and blood was seeping from one of my knees. As I gathered up the books there was a white flash of lights. A large van barrelled down the street towards me. Its lights were on high beam, blinding me. I froze.
At the last second it swerved, missing me by inches.
I leapt to my feet and stood there shaking in the dark. As my eyes adjusted again, a faint gloom over the land became apparent. The crescent moon was growing as it waxed towards full. And it hit me – ‘When night becomes day’ meant when the full moon rose in the sky. The witches were warning us that on the night of the full moon, someone would die. Maybe I needed the protection amulet more than Bryce did, though, after this near miss.
The next day at school I told my coven what had happened. They were freaked out that I’d nearly got hit by a car, of course, but they were more excited by my partial decoding of the riddle.
‘Of course!’ Dean smacked his forehead. ‘The full moon affects the tide, too, which would explain “The ocean flows before it ebbs”.’
‘I wonder if it was a full moon the night the woman of Queen’s Cross died,’ Amelia said.
‘That’s easy to find out,’ said Bryce, taking out his iPhone. ‘Can anyone remember the exact date?’
‘I have it here,’ I said, pulling a photocopy of the first newspaper article we’d found from my bag.
‘The article was published on 21 July 1997, which means she probably died the day before, on the twentieth.’
Bryce tapped away on his phone for a minute before raising his head triumphantly. ‘According to the Griffith Observatory Sky Report, 20 July 1997 was a full moon!’
‘And we all know magic is cast more effectively on a full moon, which adds more weight to the idea that the objects she was found with were being used in a witchcraft ritual,’ I said.
Everyone nodded.
‘So the witches’ riddle is telling us that the woman of Queen’s Cross was a witch?’ said Amelia.
‘What about that herb, yarrow, you were telling us about this morning, Dean?’ Alyssa asked. ‘Obviously that has something to do with it. If it cures headaches then maybe they’re warning that one of us is going to get knocked on the head!’ She laughed.
The second bell sounded as we were talking, but none of us seemed to be in a rush to get to class.
‘What subjects do you guys have?’ I asked. ‘Maybe we could skip first period and go to the cafe to talk to Brenda about all of this? From what the witches said, we don’t have much time.’
‘Vania Thorn!’ Mr Barrow’s voice thundered from behind me. My stomach lurched at the now familiar, nasty tone in his voice. ‘Did I just hear you encouraging your friends to skip school?’
‘No, Mr Barrow,’ I lied. Had he been around the corner listening to us the whole time? ‘We were actually discussing a class project we’re working on together and were planning to do additional research for it,’ I said.
‘The woman of Queen’s Cross,’ Alyssa chimed in. ‘We’re solving the mystery for Friday’s elective!’
Mr Barrow’s eyes narrowed, and then suddenly he burst out laughing. It was almost more creepy than when he had been shouting at us. ‘Very well, children,’ he snorted between laughs, ‘run along now.’
We backed away from him. But then his beady eyes focused solely on me.
‘And you, Vania Thorn, come with me,’ he said, all trace of laughter gone.
The others stepped forward and stood around me as if forming a shield, but I meekly obeyed. ‘Yes, Mr Barrow.’
He turned on his heel, and after acknowledging the sympathetic looks from my coven I followed him down the hall, not sure where we were going until he turned right and stopped in front of the principal’s office.
My heart sank.
He knocked and I could hear Mrs Stinson’s faint but stern voice: ‘Enter.’
Mr Barrow opened the door and indicated with his head that I should go in ahead of him. I inched past him, doing my best not to brush against him as I moved through the narrow doorway.
I faced the principal uncertainly.
She shuffled some papers in front of her before looking up at Mr Barrow. ‘Yes?’
‘Vania Thorn, while being a capable student academically, is proving herself to be a disruptive influence among the other students,’ Mr Barrow said loudly.
I was too shocked to defend myself, so I just stood there looking back and forth between Mr Barrow and the principal.
Mr Barrow opened a folder he was carrying. ‘Cheating on tests, causing a commotion in the school cafeteria and encouraging other students to skip classes,’ he said as he turned a couple of pages before removing one and handing it to the principal. ‘I recommend this letter be sent to her parents.’
The principal looked the letter over. After a long silence she said, ‘I want to speak with Miss Thorn. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Mr Barrow. You can leave her with me.’
Mr Barrow went to say something, but the principal held up her hand to silence him.
He snapped his folder shut and gave me one more withering look before leaving the office.
‘Have a seat,’ the principal said without looking up from the letter.
I did so and waited with my hands in my lap.
‘I don’t like Abraham Barrow,’ she said after a long pause.
My hand went to my mouth in shock at how open she was being.
‘But unfortunately I have to adhere to a strict hiring policy, and he was next in line.’
I didn’t say anything. What could I say?
‘Don’t you want to speak in your defence?’ Mrs Stinson asked.
I cleared my throat. ‘Yes, ma’am. I did not cheat, but I did suggest to the students I share a Friday elective class with that we work on that project this morning, off the school premises.’
‘Which project did you choose?’
‘We’re attempting to solve the mystery of the woman of Queen’s Cross.’
‘Oh, yes, a famous case in Summerland. Well, how is it coming along?’
‘We think we’re really close to a breakthrough that might even force the case to be reopened.’
‘How very thrilling. I do enjoy seeing students passionate about their work. As you are a relatively new student to this school, Miss Thorn, I have made it my duty to stay informed of your progress, and all your teachers speak very highly of you – except Mr Barrow, of course. Sometimes personality clashes are unavoidable, so to avoid further issues I am going to remove you from his class and place you with Miss Clarke instead.’
‘But Mrs Stinson, Miss Clarke’s class is the year above mine,’ I said.
‘I know. It is a little unorthodox, but you appear to be uncannily gifted in this area of study. I hope this news pleases you.’
Pleased me? I was over the moon. My toes curled up in my shoes, and I had to resist the urge to fling myself at Mrs Stinson and hug her. ‘Thank you so much, Mrs Stinson. I won’t let you down. I’ll study really hard.’
‘Make sure you do, Miss Thorn.’ But her serious words were accompanied by a smile, and she energetically scrunched Mr Barrow’s letter into a ball and threw it in the bin.
‘You may return to your classes,’ she said and went back to turning over the papers on her desk.
I virtually skipped out of her office.
My coven and I met in the quad for lunch. They couldn’t believe what had happened in the principal’s office either, especially Mrs Stinson’s openness about not liking Mr Barrow.
‘Maybe he’s going to be fired?’ Alyssa said.
‘I can’t tell psychically yet,’ Amelia said. ‘But it’s pretty obvious he’s not making any friends among the staff. Here’s hoping his days at Summerland High are numbered.’
‘It would be awesome if he left,’ Dean said. ‘I doubt anyone would miss him. I’ve heard other students complain about him, too.’
‘Vania has copped it the worst, though,’ Bryce said. ‘But it should get better now that you’re not in his class.’ He squeezed my shoulder and I swooned a little. I loved it when he touched me.
I stood there revelling in the knowledge that there would be no more chemistry with Mr Barrow . . . And then I felt the blood leave my head and pool in my feet. The witches’ second warning started blaring in my head like a demented nursery rhyme.
‘Guys . . . this is probably ridiculous, but in the witches’ second rhyme, could “One, two, three, rhymes with tree” mean “chemistry”?’
‘Chemistry rhymes with tree . . . and three, obviously!’ laughed Alyssa.
We all giggled except Dean, who looked serious.
‘“Four, five, sparrow, rhymes with narrow”,’ he said, ‘which rhymes with . . . Barrow.’
Could it be that simple? The witches were warning us about Mr Barrow? I stood there like a bowling pin knocked unsteady, rocking back and forth, looking at the others. Bryce put his arm out to steady me.
‘It’s Mr Barrow,’ I whispered.
‘But what about Mr Barrow?’ Bryce raised his eyebrows.
‘He murdered the woman of Queen’s Cross,’ I said.
‘That’s crazy!’ Amelia laughed out loud.
‘Shush!’ I whispered. ‘Seriously, it all makes sense.’
‘But surely he wouldn’t kill her and then move into her house?’ Dean said incredulously.
‘I read somewhere that criminals stay close to the scene of their crime, so they don’t seem like the perpetrator. But I’m going to talk to my father tonight and see what he thinks,’ I finished emphatically. Suddenly talking to him seemed like a very good idea.
I finished my last mouthful of the vegetarian lasagne my mother and I had cooked together and carefully laid my cutlery down on my plate.
‘Dad, I need your opinion on something,’ I said.
‘This is a first!’ he said. ‘What is it?’
I resisted the urge to make a sarcastic remark back to him. ‘I have a class project where we’re examining the mysterious death of a woman in Summerland fifteen years ago.’
‘The woman of Queen’s Cross!’ my mother said loudly. I jumped.
‘Well, yes—’
‘Keith!’ my mother cut me off. ‘Did you know about this?’
‘Darling, be quiet,’ my father said.
What was with their total overreaction? I hadn’t even asked them anything specific yet.
‘What do you want to know, Vania?’ my father asked evenly.
‘Um,’ I said, feeling thrown by their weird response but determined to push on, ‘I think the woman was murdered, and I have a feeling that one of the teachers at my school did it.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ my father said.
‘Why is it ridiculous?’
‘What proof do you have?’
What proof did I have? I couldn’t tell my father about the witches. ‘It’s just a hunch. And he lives in the house where she died.’
My father shook his head dismissively.
‘So you’re not going to help me?’ I said.
‘Vania, you’re being silly. You should be focusing your time on more serious areas of study.’
I pushed back my chair in frustration. ‘That’s all I do!’ I shouted. ‘I work as hard as I can, I get good grades, but it’s never good enough for you!’
‘Sit down now, Vania!’ my father yelled.
‘Keith, please,’ my mother said in an odd tone. ‘Maybe we should tell her?’
‘Tell me what?’ I screamed.
My father stood up and grabbed my arm, but I wrenched it away.
‘Don’t bother,’ I said. ‘Why should I listen to you? You never listen to me.’
I bolted out of the kitchen towards the front door.
‘Vania, get back here!’ my father called after me.
I ignored him and took off into the night.
Ten minutes later I was tapping on the doors of Bryce’s bedroom. The curtains were drawn, but there was a light on. I tapped again hesitantly. The curtain slid open and I saw Bryce’s familiar outline. My thudding heart started to slow down.
As soon as he saw me he opened the door.
‘Vania, you scared me! I thought you were one of those witches knocking at my door this late.’ He laughed.
‘Bryce, can I come in?’
‘Of course. My parents are home; I’ll tell them you’re here.’
‘Can you not, please? I just had a huge fight with mine,’ I said, wiping at my tear-stained face.
‘Hey, no worries. Let’s talk quietly then. What happened?’
I sat on the bed and for a second thought about the amulet I’d placed under his mattress. I wondered if it was protecting him like it was supposed to.
‘I told my dad I thought Mr Barrow was involved in the woman of Queen’s Cross’s death, and he basically just laughed at me. Nothing I do is ever good enough for him.’
‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ Bryce said, ‘but it is a bit of a stretch to say that Mr Barrow was involved in the woman’s death.’
‘What?’ I bristled. ‘You know the witches’ second rhyme clearly points to him.’
‘Hey, whoa, don’t get so worked up!’
That was the wrong thing to say. I stood up in a huff. ‘Bryce, I’ve been doing my best to stay nice after what happened at the beach, but you know what? This is even worse than that. I can’t believe you’re not backing me on this.’
I leapt up and ran out of the open door.
Halfway down the street I stopped and turned around. He wasn’t following me. I took a deep breath. I felt worn out and sad. Maybe I had him all wrong.
There was one more person I needed to ask: Brenda. She would know what to do.
It took me half an hour to walk to the Purple Raven, and it was after nine p.m. by the time I arrived. The cafe was closed, but thankfully as I peered in the window I could see Brenda counting money at one of the tables. I knocked.
Minutes later I was sipping on a mug of hot chocolate and feeling a lot calmer. The money had been replaced on the table by Brenda’s tarot cards, and she was shuffling them slowly.
‘Let’s see if we can get a little clarity with these,’ she said.
She cut the deck into three piles. ‘Choose one.’
I pointed to the middle pile.
She moved the others to the side and started to turn over the cards of my chosen pile, one at a time, until five cards formed the shape of a cross.
Brenda looked up at me with her good eye while the glass one stayed fixed on the spread. ‘You have the Justice card at the centre, surrounded by the Nine of Swords, the Page of Coins and the Magician. And here at the bottom . . .’ she picked up the card carefully and presented it to me, ‘. . . you have Death.’
I shuddered at the grisly scene on the death card. It was a skeleton in a black hooded cape holding a giant scythe.
‘What does it all mean?’ I asked.
‘These cards mean you are correct in your assumptions. So your school teacher, Mr Barrow, probably does know something about the death of the woman.’
‘So he did kill her!’
Brenda held up her hand. ‘Wait, I didn’t say that. The cards are merely guides; there are no absolutes.’
‘What should I do?’
‘You should go to the police.’
‘I already have. I asked my father. He didn’t believe me, and he’s the police chief. Can’t we do a spell on Mr Barrow and force a confession out of him?’
‘Absolutely not!’ Brenda said sternly. ‘It would break the primary law of spell-casting, as you know. You can’t interfere with another’s free will.’
‘But this is for justice!’ I wailed.
‘Vania, no. And don’t take this into your own hands – it will only backfire.’
I slammed my mug down and stood up. The angry feeling was starting to churn deep in my stomach like a big black snake uncoiling.
‘What’s the point of being able to do spells if you’re never allowed to use them?’
‘Vania, please calm down!’ Brenda said in a firm voice.
‘No, I won’t calm down! If no one is going to help me, I’m going to do this myself!’
I stormed out of the cafe, back into the night. The snake was now writhing wildly inside me, and I knew what I had to do.
There was a lighter tinge to the sky tonight: a huge full moon floated in the sky. It was yellow like spoiled butter and looked ominous.
‘Perfect. Time to do some serious magic,’ I muttered under my breath.