Spellbound

The Wicked Witch

I sit alone in a hospital room, Donovan's jacket draped over me, as I watch Avery sleeping from a bed surrounded by small crystals.

Clover's Memorial Hospital is clean and bright, like Alexandra, but smells strongly of disinfectant rather than fragrant flowers. I came with Theresa and the Academy nurse, once they realised just how sick Avery was. We were lead through a very pristine waiting room, which centred a rather large clear crystal quartz. The physicians and nurses dress head to toe in white and carry crystals along with their clipboards. Most of the walls we passed contain some form of crystal sticking out from them, and tiny green clovers are hung up randomly throughout the hospital.

Avery's room is small and bright, much unlike her personality. And several tubes are connected from her arms to bags full of shimmering coloured liquids.

I take her hand in mine, holding tightly. She is steady—I can feel her regaining her strength, slowly. But she's afraid. Afraid of her own weakness.

There's a sharp knock at the door as Doctor Song lets herself in. I had met her briefly, but she spent most of her time talking with Theresa and Nurse Honey.

There's an air of elegance about her, from the way her neat black hair cascades down the back of her white coat, to the way she glides across the room to an incapacitated Avery. It also doesn't escape my notice that she shares her last name with the boy-with-the-sword Ky-Bo. If she wore the same sour expression, which she does not, their likeness would be uncanny.

"Have you been here all night?" She asks, while examining Avery.

I nod.

"You're a good friend," she smiles, "Looks like Miss Spencer is recovering nicely. Her father and I will keep a close eye on her, and she should be able to return to school by Monday."

"Father?"

"Doctor Spencer," she tells me. "You should get back to the Academy, we'll take good care of your friend."

I wait until Doctor Song is finished, but I know she's right. There is nothing I can do for Avery, as much as I want to stay. I grab Donovan's jacket, squeeze Avery's hand and go to leave—but something holds me in place. Something I can't explain.

I turn from Avery's room, every intention of heading for the exit—but the whispers I try desperately to block out, course through me with an icy vengeance, beckoning me to follow them. For once, I don't fight them. I let them carry me through the shimmering and bright hallways, tracing my fingers along the delicate crystals that protrude from the walls. With each step I feel heavier, weighed down by an invisible force. As I turn the last corner and come to a dead end, the whispers grow louder and an opened door catches my attention. Within a second, the whispers fade, and leave me feeling empty inside. I take a step closer, and another, until I stand in the frame of the door.

A woman, with skin like Avery's and hair like midnight lies asleep in her hospital bed. Her beauty hidden beneath several scars. My insides grind into nauseating knots and it takes everything to choke my feelings down. This is Avery's mother—

"I've been expecting you." The unknown voice startles me, and I hastily wipe back tears that I only just realised were there.

The voice comes from a woman, hidden in the shadows on the opposite side of the room. With a step into light, I see her. Small in size, but striking in her appearance. Her lips are bold red and her midnight hair is streaked with silver. She wears a fur coat, and her ears and neck drip with expensive pearls.

At this point I don't know if I can speak, but quietly, the words fall from my lips, "Who are you?"

She smirks at me, "Abigail Spencer, darling."