The bad man lifted his ghostly hand and touched his index finger to his forehead in a mocking salute before he glittered and disappeared.
“Help! Help! Help!” Myrtle shouted, her unearthly voice echoing through the stone hall, mingled with Jack’s dogs’ frantic barking.
Lewis heard footsteps as he floated down.
Myrtle was drifting in a crouch over Belle’s motionless body as the dogs circled, sniffed and kept howling.
“Oh my God.” They heard breathed and they looked at who they knew was Yasmin, a family friend both of them liked a lot, mostly because she was funny.
She was staring at them in dazed disbelief.
“Go! Get help!” Lewis shouted, his strange, ghostly voice now echoing with the dogs’ frenzied woofs.
Yasmin ran forward toward Belle and Myrtle drifted away.
She dropped to her knees beside Belle then her head snapped up and she looked at Lewis, demanding, “What happened?”
“Get help!” Lewis replied.
More steps, more people and Yasmin’s head jerked around to look over her shoulder.
“Call 999!” she cried.
“She fell down the stairs,” Myrtle informed the pretty witch who was dialling on her phone.
The Scottish man crouched beside Belle, ignoring Myrtle and Lewis, intent on his effort of feeling for a pulse.
“Belle!” They heard shouted as Rachel arrived, her face white. “Oh Belle! Oh my God! What happened?”
Rachel was shoving in as Lila and Joy made it to the scene.
“Yes, there’s been an accident. Chy An Als Point. Belle Abbot has fallen down the stairs,” the witch said. “She’s unconscious.”
“Belle, honeypot. Belle?” Rachel’s hands were on her and Lewis went to Myrtle, pulling her back.
“She’s got a pulse. It’s strong,” the Scotsman told the witch then he moved to pull Rachel away as he soothed. “Don’t move her. We need to let her lay, lass, wait for the paramedics.”
“I can’t let her lay!” Rachel shouted, her eyes wide, tearful and full of fear as she began to struggle against the Scot.
“Her pulse is strong,” the witch said into the phone.
“Keep holding her hand, Yasmin,” Lila said softly, getting close and dropping down, she gently pulled Belle’s hair away from her neck. After she did this, she continued to stroke her granddaughter’s hair even after she sucked in breath when she saw the blood at Belle’s temple.
“She’s bleeding!” Rachel wailed, her struggles turning frantic.
“It’s a head wound, love. We’ve got to let her lay or we might do her more harm,” the Scotsman tried to calm Rachel while gently pushing her back.
“She’s bleeding,” Joy whispered in a voice so horrible, everyone knew she was referring to something else. They stilled and looked down at Belle, even Myrtle and Lewis.
There was, they saw, blood pooling between her legs.
“She’s pregnant,” the witch said urgently into the phone. “And she’s bleeding between her legs.”
Lewis turned and pushed his sister through the wall.
“Lewis!” Myrtle shouted, fighting his push but he was determined and he kept hold of her, darting through the ceiling to their turret.
He still held her when they arrived at their window.