A scream brought me back to reality.

Amelia was being attacked by a harpy. It had lifted her off the ground, clawing at her arms and shoulders and cackling as she half struggled to get free, half tried to hold on for her dear life.

“Let her go!” Charon yelled. He was standing underneath, as if he could catch Amelia without either of them taking any damage.

“Or what, little boy?” the harpy screeched. “Can’t charm me, can you? Lousy excuse for a siren, you are!”

I looked for Amelia’s potion in my pockets only to remember that I wasn’t wearing my own jeans. “Shit,” I muttered. In my peripheral, I could see Ewart and Elvira still fighting, harpies flying all over, and— there! Tusk was laying Killian on one of the benches. The spell-book was on the floor next to him.

“Hey, what’s that?” I asked and pointed at a random spot behind Fiona. The second she looked away, I kicked her shin and sprinted.

Uncle Killian was barely breathing when I got to him. Tusk was applying some sort of a serum to the worst injuries, and told me to open a purple-tinted glass bottle and pour its contents into Killian’s mouth. I did what I was told. I couldn’t tell if it was helping.

“I need to learn a spell. Fast,” I said once I was done.

“We don’t exactly have time for magic lessons,” Tusk said. He was wrapping white bandage over a nasty cut on Killian’s arm.

“It doesn’t need to be a lesson, I just—“

Something bright and hot shot past me, right above my head. Fiona had thrown a fireball at us. Her teeth were bared and her hands were smoking. So much for being a family again.

“Just let me have the book!” I told Tusk. He abandoned Killian’s injuries for half a second to toss me the spell-book.

The second the cool leather of the book touched my hands, I felt calmer. My magic settled, just enough to let me focus. I cracked the book open at a random page, praying for something useful, and landed on a text titled A simple invitation, written by A.G.

I read it out loud impatiently: “Every witch should master at least one or two invitation spells. These are more often than not simple everyday spells to reach faraway objects. The further away the object is, the harder one must focus on the spell. Naturally, moving objects and living things— Jesus, how much longer does this person go on?”

Uncle Killian opened his eyes and reached out to touch the book shakily. He took a couple of deep, raspy breaths and said: “Ancum. Look at the object, and… command it. Like a pet or a child. Be strict.”

“Like a pet or a child. Right,” I said shakily. “Got it. Just hang on tight, uncle.”

Moving objects and living things were more challenging, sure, but I only had to distract the harpy. If I could just get it a little bit closer to the floor so Amelia wouldn’t get hurt from falling… I looked at the harpy intently. I imagined it was a misbehaving cat, about to smack an expensive wine glass off a table with its paw. In the most commanding voice I could muster, I said: “Ancum!”

Before, magic had always burst out of me violently. Now, I was able to only let a little bit out, let it flow through me and direct it. I felt almost like a vessel for the magic, like it was coming from someplace else and I was just filtering and moulding it.

The harpy jerked my way. It looked extremely confused. I repeated the spell again, and in order to regain its balance it dropped Amelia. Charon caught her clumsily and they both fell on the floor, but neither of them looked badly hurt.

Thunder roared. The harpy that had dropped Amelia finally realised it was me who had messed with it and its dinner, and dove my way. I grabbed a potted plant and threw it at its head; the pot broke, dirt, clay and green leaves flying everywhere, and the harpy dropped.

“Now would be a good time to take our leave!” Tusk barked. I could barely hear him over the rain, wind, thunder, the cackling of the harpies and Ewart and Elvira’s fight. It looked like Fiona was contemplating joining the fight, but couldn’t quite decide whose side he wanted to be on.

“Oscar!” Charon warned, but too late. Something hit me so hard I went flying and hit a stone wall. Air escaped my lungs. I fell along the wall and slumped down at its foot struggling to breathe.

I had never thought of Charon, Elvira or any other magical creature I had encountered as a monster, but this thing that had hit me… I had never seen anything like it. It was roughly the size of Elvira’s bike, maybe bigger. Four legs on either side of its body, like a spider, all black and hairy. It had the head of a ram, overgrown horns covered in dried blood. Five eyes all staring my way — two sets of red, and one white on its forehead. When it opened its mouth a forked tongue slithered out, dripping saliva. The spit sizzled and steamed when it hit the floor.

“What the fuck is that?” I heard Amelia ask as I got up.

“Abomination! Abomination!” the harpies screamed in shrill voices. I couldn’t tell whether they were terrified or amused.

“Amelia! The potions!” I reminded her as the spider-ram started climbing up. It stalked me from above, its tongue tasting the air. One drop of its saliva hit my arm and melted through my hoodie. It burned like a cigarette.

Amelia fumbled with the little jars. One almost dropped. She finally threw one at the spider-ram, and it created a surprisingly big, blue and green explosion. The monster screamed in pain, but it continued crawling around.

“Aim at its legs!” I yelled. The monster’s tongue was almost touching me. I could see its yellowy teeth, which I was sure could crush me in an instant.

Amelia threw the next potion, but missed; the jar flew straight out. I winced. I hoped it wasn’t going to hit a civilian on the street. Amelia had one more jar left. She took a deep breath, took a stance and hurled the potion. It flew in an elegant arch and landed on one of the monster’s knees. The whole leg exploded off, and sickly green slime and blood spurted out of the stump. Bits of monster landed on my shoes.

The spider-ram was so distracted by its missing leg that I was able to get away from it — or as far away from it as I could in the limited space.

“Look out!” Tusk hollered. He quickly stuffed a piece of dry cloth into the mouth of a green bottle filled with clear liquid. He took out a lighter, lit the cloth on fire, and tossed the bottle at the monster. It didn’t explode like Amelia’s potions, but it hit the creature in its belly and disrupted its balance so much it fell backwards and out of the tower.

“No!” Ewart screamed as he saw his creation fall. He abandoned the fight with Elvira to look over the edge, but it was too late. The spider-ram let out one last miserable screech before it hit the ground. Cars honked and people screamed.

Elvira saw the opportunity and took it. She kicked Ewart in the middle of his back, so hard that the stone railing crumbled and Ewart went straight through it. Ewart screamed almost as loudly as the monster when he fell.

Elvira wiped sweat and blood off her face. “Happy family reunion,” she spat.

“Holy fuck,” I said. I looked over the edge (though I didn’t dare to go as far as Ewart had) but couldn’t see him anywhere. The spider-ram, however, was on its back in the middle of the street surrounded by concerned civilians. One of its legs twitched disgustingly, but the others were curled towards its body.

“Family reunion! The girl’s got guts!” screamed one harpy that zoomed past.

“But we haven’t had a meal yet, have we?” sung another.

“Just feck off!” Fiona screamed at one that got too close. The harpy bursted into bright, tall flames and screeched as it flew away. Fiona just stood in the middle of everything, looking dumbfounded and stressed.

“Fi, you can still stop. You don’t have to do this,” Elvira said gently.

“No… No, this isn’t how it was supposed to go,” Fiona muttered. She didn’t look like herself at all. She was scared.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Fiona looked straight at me. “There’s a fight coming,” she said.

“You mean that wasn’t the fight?” Amelia said.

The harpies were getting more and more restless. Amelia had to cast a protective spell — much like the invisible umbrella she had enchanted earlier, except stronger — over herself and Charon to prevent them from swooping down and clawing at them. Tusk was shielding Killian with his body.

The entrance door slammed open once more. Looking more exhausted than I had ever seen him, was Dennis Highmore. He had dark circles under his eyes. His sandy brown hair had turned into a matted bird’s nest, and his clothes hung loosely on him like he had lost several pounds of weight within just over a week.

“We need to get out of here, now,” he said in his most commanding big brother voice.

As soon as she saw him, Amelia’s spell broke and she ran to her brother. She hugged him so tight I was worried Dennis would choke, but he just wrapped his arms around her and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“What’s going on?” I asked him. I joined him and Amelia, and he gave me a one-armed hug as well. Charon lingered further away.

“There’s a pack heading this way, a huge one,” Dennis explained. He cast a protection charm similar to Amelia’s around us; it covered Charon as well. Harpies screamed in frustration when they couldn’t get through it.

“A pack of wolves?” Amelia said.

“No,” Fiona said a few feet away from us. She snapped her fingers and a harpy that was approaching her dropped like a stone. “Not just wolves.”

I glanced at Killian as I remembered the journal entry I had read ages ago; the one about a pack that was accompanied by humans, a giant and something else. Something darker.

“It’s Cross,” I realised.

Distant screams echoed from the streets. Not just any screams, but truly terrified ones. The running for your life, indescribable pain kind.

Fiona’s eyes glinted excitedly. She uttered a spell and held out her hand. Something flew towards her from the open door, a long, slim object — a broom, probably some poor janitor’s who would have to find a new one in the morning. She took out a knife. It was long and silver, decorated with odd carvings. She slashed some symbols into the wood of the broom while chanting something under her breath. For a brief moment, the broom glowed golden sunlight.

Before Fiona could do anything else, Elvira grabbed her arm and said: “Hey, you’re not going anywhere! We can still talk things through, we can still—“

“No, we can’t. I’m sorry,” Fiona said. Her expression softened for just a second, like she was actually hesitating, but then she ripped herself away from Elvira. She threw one leg over the broomstick, straddling it. I was sure she wouldn’t actually fly on it — that was just stuff from books and movies, right? — but sure enough, she lifted into the air. First slowly, just levitating, and then in a swift motion flying off the tower.

“Well, she won’t be any more trouble,” Tusk said bluntly. “So how about we get going now? Before more freaks appear?”

Right on cue, there was a rumble, deeper and louder than an airplane taking off. I looked down. A man twice the size of Elias was walking towards the tower entrance. With him were two creatures I only recognised from fantasy books; griffins, with blood and guts hanging off their beaks and claws. And there were two others as well; a man and a woman, who looked just like ordinary humans, the woman carrying a shotgun and the man a pistol.

“Shit. What do we do?” Amelia asked.

“We have no other choice,” Killian said, groaning as he sat up. “We must fight.”

“First of all, you can barely stand up,” Tusk pointed out. “That one knows one spell. The other children are slightly better, but incompetent as well. That one looks like he’s going to collapse any minute, and you, beautiful woman in the leather jacket, look scary as hell but I have no idea what you do.”

“Want a demonstration?” Elvira asked with one eyebrow raised.

For a moment, Tusk looked like he wanted to say yes. He quickly changed his mind, though. “Listen here,” he said. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a lot to live for. I’ve got a business—“

“A shady one,” Amelia muttered.

“A family,” Tusk continued.

“A goldfish,” Elvira corrected.

“And a date tomorrow!” Tusk said desperately.

“Is it with the goldfish?” Charon asked.

“No!” Tusk shrieked.

“We need to stop messing about,” Killian said sharply. “There’s not much time. Dennis and Amelia, you two seal the door.”

Dennis and Amelia nodded. Dennis, who had brought their spell-book along, skimmed through it to find a specific page and they started chanting together. There was a crackling sound, like the door was being welded shut.

“Charon,” Uncle Killian said. Charon visibly jumped at the mention of his name. “Is your charm any good?”

“Either too good or nonexistent, sir. There’s no in-between,” Charon said with a red tint in his cheeks.

“Right… You’re with Oscar, then. You hear or smell anything weird, you tell me,” Killian said.

“Wait, what am I supposed to do?” I asked.

“Just stay safe,” Killian said tiredly. I wanted to argue, but he was already moving on. He turned to Elvira. “I assume you know what to do.”

“I do,” Elvira said, her expression stony.

“I don’t take commands,” Tusk announced with his hands up.

“And I’m not one to command you,” Killian grumbled. He got to his feet stiffly and clapped Tusk’s shoulder. “But I would like to ask you to make a phone call.”

“A phone call,” Tusk repeated, unimpressed. He still fished out a Nokia from his pocket.

“Yes. We will be needing backup.”