Then another man, who Sibyl had never seen before, came tearing into the room and stopped dead, immobile at what he saw. Then, with nothing for it, he surged forward and spelled Bran who dropped from his ghost and ran from the room.
Then, with a strange, eerie, final-sounding pop, Rick’s spectre just disappeared with Rick in mid-swing.
Then, not a few seconds later, Kyle’s did the same.
Then, the other one went with another pop, leaving the unknown man literally spinning on his feet
And finally, Colin threw off the last and as it flew through the air of the room, there was a final crack and one moment they all saw it flying and less than a second later, it was gone.
Without hesitation, Colin whirled on Sibyl. “I thought I told you to go to the sanctuary!” he barked.
“I couldn’t leave you here to fight them alone!” she snapped.
He stared at her angrily for a moment and then lifted his eyes toward the ceiling and she was relatively certain he was praying for patience.
* * * * *
With a menacing stride, Royce walked toward the figure pinned to the trunk of the tree.
The witch still had her arm lifted. Royce knew, even though he didn’t want to believe, that the woman was holding the figure captive using something Royce refused to believe existed.
Magic.
Royce approached the tree and he felt Beatrice close behind him and when he stopped, he made sure she stayed well behind him by roughly pushing her there with his arm.
The figure was cloaked, the hood hiding his face.
“Who are you?” Royce demanded.
With a flick of her hand, the Esmeralda Crane unmasked the figure.
Royce drew in his breath as he heard Beatrice gasp behind him.
* * * * *
Colin stalked with menacing strides toward the figure pinned to the wall.
Marian was clearly holding it there with her arm still aloft. Colin didn’t even want to think what that meant.
He felt Sibyl close behind him and when he stopped, he made sure she stayed behind him by pushing her there with his arm.
The figure was hooded somehow, its face masked.
“Who the f**k are you?” Colin demanded.
With a flick of her hand, Marian tore the glamour away from the figure.
Colin drew in his breath as he heard Sibyl ask from behind him, “Who the heck is that?”
In a low voice, Colin answered, “Mrs. Manning.”
“Mrs. Man… the invisible housekeeper?” Sibyl burst out.
“You killed my son!” the woman screamed, her voice, Colin realised, used to sound old, damaged and scratchy. Now it was just old.
He should have thought of that earlier when Robert told him about the voice their attackers from the Centre had described. But he didn’t. He would have never suspected his efficient, mostly unseen housekeeper of plotting his murder. Now he stared at the woman who had not only kept his house but kept his aunt and uncle’s house before him.
“You killed her son?” Sibyl breathed.