Goodly and Grave in a Case of Bad Magic. Justine Windsor

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СКАЧАТЬ she felt sorry for the boy, the dreadful wailing was rather wearing on the ears.

      “A big brute of a lad! And now there’ll be no buns for tea!”

      “How horrid!” Violet replied. “But do stop crying. I’ve got threepence. You can have that to buy some buns.”

      The boy looked up at her with a shocked expression on his face. It seemed he was unused to kindness. “Really?”

      “Of course! Now, you should get up out of that puddle or your bottom will rot! Then you really will have problems!” Violet said. The serious expression on her face indicated she earnestly believed in bottom-rot.

      The boy did as Violet suggested and stood up, muddy water dripping off the seat of his ragged trousers. Violet held out her silver threepenny coin to him.

      “You’re so kind, miss. I wish I could give you summat in return.” He began patting the pockets of his jacket. Lucy frowned as she noticed something puzzling about him. His jacket didn’t match his raggedy trousers. It was new-looking and made of good, thick material. Perhaps he’d stolen it? But Lucy didn’t have time to dwell on this as by now the boy had found something in his pocket to give Violet. There was a flash of silver as he whipped out a knife.

      

      The boy leaped at Violet, wielding his blade. He knocked her to the ground, then pinned her down by kneeling on her arms.

      Violet shrieked wildly.

      Lucy charged towards the boy, her fingers tingling with heat the way they had earlier that morning when she’d been practising magic with Lord Grave. Barely thinking about what she was doing, she drew her hand back and sent a flurry of attack sparks whizzing towards the boy’s exposed nape, just above his collar. The sparks struck their target perfectly.

      The boy screamed in pain, clapping his hand over the back of his neck. Violet managed to free one of her arms and punched the boy. The punch didn’t have much power behind it, but it did land somewhere sensitive, and the boy squealed. At the same time, Lucy let fly at him with another volley of sparks. The combined assault completely unbalanced the boy and he ended up flat on his back in the mud. Cursing, he quickly scrambled to his feet, snatching up something he’d dropped. He stepped towards Lucy, clearly considering charging at her. But then he stopped, and for a few seconds he just stared at her, then over his shoulder at Violet, then at Lucy again. His eyes widened.

      “You’re her! I thought she was … That stupid frog!”

      Lucy had expected the boy to demand more money, so his words confused her. Caruthers had fallen out of her cloak during the fight and was now lying with his head in a muddy puddle. What did he have to do with anything?

      “Leave us alone or I’ll hurt you some more!” Lucy yelled. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hardly hear her own voice, which sounded far more threatening than she actually felt. She pointed at the boy, her fingertips stinging with heat again. The boy stepped back, his gaze fixed on the attack sparks that were beginning to crackle around Lucy’s hand. Her heart lurched. Not only could the boy feel the sparks, he could see them too!

      After a moment’s hesitation, the boy turned and ran off down the alley. His gait was somewhat lopsided as he splashed through patches of muddy water, no doubt due to Violet’s lucky punch.

      When the boy was safely out of sight, Lucy hunkered down next to the little scullery maid and helped her sit up. “Violet! Are you all right?”

      “He c-cut me!”

      “Where?”

      Violet held out her right hand. The soft flap of skin between her thumb and forefinger was bleeding.

      “Anywhere else?”

      Violet shook her head.

      “Thank goodness.” Lucy took out her handkerchief, which fortunately was freshly washed, and wrapped the wound as best she could. Then she helped Violet to stand up.

      “Where’s Caruthers?” Violet asked.

      “Don’t worry, he’s here. He’s a bit mucky, though.” Lucy retrieved Caruthers from the muddy puddle and handed him to Violet, who clutched him to her chest with her uninjured hand. Then the two of them stumbled shakily out of the alley and back on to the high street.

      The violin player was the first person to spot they were in trouble. She laid her instrument down in its velvet-lined case and dashed over to them, her shaggy dog trotting alongside her.

      “Hell’s teeth! What happened to you two?”

      “A boy. Attacked her with a knife!” Lucy said.

      “He attacked her? What about you? Did he get you?” the girl asked, sounding extremely concerned.

      “No, he didn’t.” Lucy shook her head. She was beginning to feel rather sick at the thought of what might have happened if they hadn’t managed to fight off the boy. By now, some of the shoppers bustling about had noticed something was amiss too. A little crowd began to form round Violet and Lucy.

      “Ooh, look at the little one, her hand’s bleeding!”

      Violet, who had turned very pale, said, “Could someone please fetch my mother?”

      “Your mother, chicken?” replied a tall, dark-haired woman.

      “She’s a seamstress. She works at the draper’s.” Violet closed her eyes and began swaying dangerously.

      “I’ll take you to your mother, don’t you worry!” The woman quickly scooped Violet up before she could fall and then began heading towards one of the shops at the other end of the street. Lucy hurried after her, stumbling over the cobbles. When the three of them burst into the draper’s, the bell hanging above the door jangled madly, startling the man behind the counter. He looked up from the bolt of cloth he was folding and cried out in alarm.

      “Brenda! What’s going on? Is that little Violet Worthington?” he said.

      “Get her mother.” Brenda carefully deposited Violet on one of the tall stools that stood in front of the counter. The man swiftly obeyed and hastened through a pair of fringed red curtains that hung behind the counter, concealing the back room of the shop.

      “You should sit down too, chicken, you look dreadful,” Brenda advised Lucy, who gratefully slumped on to a stool just as Mrs Worthington, a plump woman with kind brown eyes, ran through the curtains. She lifted up a section of the wooden counter and rushed over to Violet.

      “My little girl! What’s happened to you?” Mrs Worthington took Violet’s wounded hand gently in her own and began carefully removing the handkerchief.

      “Some lad attacked the two of ’em, down in the alley,” Brenda explained.

      Mrs Worthington glanced at Lucy. “You must be Lucy, the new boot girl. Violet’s always talking about you. Can you tell me what happened, dear?”

      As СКАЧАТЬ