Untitled Starfell #2 (Starfell #2) - Dominique Valente Page 0,14

have been kind.

Except, as she continued to hold her hand against his head, he realised that she wasn’t there to look after him, but to take something instead. Suddenly his memories grew loud, and the roots that wound round him seemed somehow to carry his secrets to her. He tried to resist, to thrash, but it was impossible.

‘Don’t try to fight it,’ she said, almost kindly, a birch-bark-like finger touching his temple.

He tried to protest and his eyes turned white again, though no sound escaped his lips.

6

The Tower Fights Back

Over the next two days, Willow was forced to swallow tonic after tonic, and sample all manner of vile, evil-tasting ‘cures’. None of which made any difference. Things still randomly seemed to disappear – like her coat and her nightdress, which was rather annoying as all her efforts to get them back failed too.

Food arrived through a little chute in the wall.

‘It minimises escape attempts, ya see – the tower helps her do it,’ Holloway had explained, peering at her through his hole in the wall.

It didn’t stop Willow trying, though. When the witch wasn’t bringing tonics and ignoring her pleas to release them, Willow was putting all her efforts into trying to break out. So far there had been thirty-two failed attempts. The last one had involved getting Oswin to blow up the door, with no success.

This had resulted in a somewhat frosty exchange between them for most of the day, as the only way to get Oswin to blow up was to insult him enough. Mostly this involved crossing the line.

Which is exactly what Oswin said, drawing a dusty line with a sharp rust-coloured claw on the floorboards. ‘This is the line,’ he hissed, his fur pumpkin-bright, smoke curling off his ears and his huge, lamp-like eyes full of fury. Then he drew a little cross above it and said, ‘AND THIS is when you calls me A CAT.’

‘Sorry, Oswin,’ she said. Again.

‘How’s it going with you, Holloway?’ Willow asked, changing the subject.

The wizard had decided if he couldn’t break out of the tower, he’d at least try and break into her room so they could all be together.

‘I’m making progress,’ he said, and she saw that there was now a much larger hole in the wall, twice as big as the wizard’s straggly grey head. He winked. ‘Won’t be long now!’

She grinned back.

Early the next morning, there was a small yellow flash and Willow’s coat appeared in a heap on the floor. She picked it up, surprised to find that it was muddy, and smelt of dirt and flowers. She frowned. Where had it been this whole time? And, more importantly, how had it appeared without her even thinking of it?

She was distracted from her thoughts by a clink-clank-clink sound, followed by a screech as the attic door was unbolted and the witch bent her silver dreadlocked head to enter the room.

As quick as she could, Willow shoved the broken chair and the bag with Oswin inside it in front of Holloway’s now rather large hole in the wall.

The witch looked at her suspiciously as she jumped back. ‘Come stand here, child, where I can see yeh.’

Willow did as instructed, and the witch unstoppered the cork of a new tonic. The rich scent of cabbage and something sour, like rotten fruit, filled the air.

‘Smells like boiled socks … and the privy after yer father’s been at it,’ whispered Oswin.

Willow wrinkled her nose.

‘I want yeh to drink this, and no complainin’ this time,’ said the witch, narrowing her eyes. When Willow hesitated, Pimpernell sighed. ‘Always makin’ it hard, aren’t yeh? I’m only tryin’ ter help.’

‘Help?’ cried Willow. ‘How is this help? The only one making this hard is you, keeping me prisoner here for no reason!’

The witch’s wood-fire eyes looked sad yet resigned. ‘Child, I had ter do it or yeh would have made the whole place go! Yeh need my help, and I’m gonna give it ter yeh whether yeh likes it or no. ’Tis for yer own good. ’Tis not like I’m enjoying this. Truth be told, I thought we’d have found somethin’ ter sort out yer magic by now, but ’tis a stubborn case … just like you are, child. But don’ yeh worry – Pimpernell always has a plan up her sleeve.’ Then she clicked her fingers and the iron bed marched forward and trapped Willow against the wall.

There was a faint ‘Oh no,’ from the hairy green bag.

Willow could barely breathe as the iron