Witching Games: The Fire Witch Chronicles 1 R.A. Lindo (most interesting books to read .TXT) 📖

live. The Mantzils are invisible creatures able to unhinge the mind: a slice of evil not vanquished with the defeat of Erent Koll: The Prince of the Underworld.

As my brother, Jacob, once said: it’s naïve to hope for a world without evil — even a magical one — which is why Night Rangers and Society soldiers will always be needed, even when everything seems calm on the surface. If my guess is right, Alice Aradel’s got a hold over Joseph, identifying his weaknesses and making him pay for it … or so she thinks.

At the sight of a faint shower of light above me — the signal of Conrad’s descent into action — I ready my weapons through the command of ‘Comeuppance’. Taking out two steel objects from my leather trouser pocket, I throw them into the air, imagining two silver swords, and they transform into just that … the handles falling gently into my hands. The artefact is a Vaspyl, better known as morphing steel.

Alice Aradel might be the evening witch, but I’m The Fire Witch and she’s about to meet an old foe, ready to transport her to the very place she fears: The Velynx. The Velynx is a place for bad things and bad people, Alice Aradel falling neatly into this category. Wanted for crimes including theft of rare artefacts and attempted kidnap (of me), she must be pretty desperate to have to call on Joseph Flint for help.

I blink to clear my vision after passing through the sphere of light, keen for Conrad to appear. The single turquoise feather signifies his arrival before he dismounts, walking alongside me with his own weapons at the ready … energy as opposed to mass in the form of fireballs spinning around his arms and wrists. It looks like Alice Aradel is in for the surprise of her life.

With his feathered companion joining mine, gliding in the air above us, Conrad fixes his gaze ahead. “Do you think it’s her?” he asks in reference to Alice Aradel.

“Possibly. Who else would have got into Joseph’s head?”

“He’s fragile,” Conrad adds, ever conscious of the mistake his deceased dad made: a mistake he made up for with a crushing sacrifice.

“He is,” I agree, enjoying the thrill of tracing danger. “Let’s just hope he hasn’t done anything stupid.”

“If he’s caught up with Alice Aradel, he would’ve been put up to it,” Conrad states. “She’s got a way of putting the frighteners on people.”

“Not on me.”

“Me neither, but Joseph isn’t built for battle; he’s never recovered from the death of his sister.”

I say nothing to this, familiar with the nature of grief. Conrad’s been taken to places I haven’t, though, having lost his mum and dad in the space of a few months. He’s right — Joseph Flint is broken and needs to be extracted from anything he’s caught up in, meaning whoever’s holding him to ransom is about to feel the heat of a witch’s fire.

Creating his own invisibility charm, Conrad allows his arms to fall by his side, allowing the fireballs swirling around his hands to fade to a temperate glow. Our weapons may or may not be needed, but no trained warrior steps beyond The Society Sphere unarmed. Peace might have returned to the S.P.M.A. but that still leaves Melackin, malevs and black market rats to keep an eye on: ‘the triad of trouble’ I like to call them.

Malev is short for malevolent (meaning malicious and spiteful) whilst Melackin are rehabilitated wizards: my mum falling into that category. Black market rats are the shifty group that survive by trading of harmless objects, like Sootherals that send children to sleep in seconds. Every above ground parent is after a Sootheral, travelling to Society Square from all over England in search of the precious device.

No magical artefact is supposed to end up in the hands of above-ground folk, but perfection doesn’t exist in any world: magical or otherwise. As long as the questionable ones among us aren’t putting the Society in danger, the elders don’t lose too much sleep over it. I should probably mention now that ‘the elders’ are the people who debate procedures, but it’s The Orium Circle who make all the laws.

Made up of six people, The Orium Circle are the most senior witches and wizards in the S.P.M.A. I know one of them particularly well — Weyen Lyell — the wizard with the wicked afro who survived a blistering war in The Saralin Sands.

As our Williynx spread out their vast wings, offering further protection, Conrad points to the figure entering Poridian Parlour.

“I doubt he’s travelling every day to have tea and cake,” he says, whistling for his Williynx to shape-shift into a smaller form: a necessary action in a space where peace and tranquility is the general rule.

The soil twists and turns in various directions, representing each traveller’s path. Each footprint has the S.P.M.A. logo emblazoned in the soil — one of the conditions of Society members moving within and beyond The Society Sphere.

Anyone thinking of doing anything really stupid can be tracked via their footprint … the S.P.M.A. logo within the footprint carefully cut out of the soil and placed into a Nivrium — better known as a water reader.

If the intent is bad or unclear, surveillance is placed on the figure in question, which is where Night Rangers come in. Casper Renn - Kaira’s dad who still runs The Cendryll - has put a surveillance order on Joseph Flint.

‘Subtle surveillance’ was how he put it, knowing me too well, although subtlety isn’t my strong point. I mean, what’s the point of being The Fire Witch if you can’t have a little fun?

“So, fire for your entrance or something a little more low key?” Conrad asks with a smile: those eyes. He’s jokingly referring to my chosen mode of entrance, wondering if I’m going to appear from the invisibility charm or activate the Smekelin charm to burst through a wall of flames.

“That depends on who Joseph’s wining