The lead mage didn’t look like a member of the Nazi secret police. He didn’t even look like a mage. He was just impossibly young, with chubby cheeks and tousled hair. The waft of stale marijuana smoke clung to his clothes and assailed my nose, even from the other side of the room. Not far behind him, a girl tripped in wearing quite possibly the most bizarre costume I’d ever seen. It was in the shape of a saucy French maid’s uniform, with a high puffed out skirt held in place by layers of frilly stiff petticoat, with colours that were, well arresting. There was a neon green heart on the front, with further neon pink and yellow starburst shapes shooting out from behind it. Her hair was black, probably dyed, and hairsprayed into pigtails that jutted out at least half a foot from her head and of which Pippi Longstocking herself would have been proud. I wondered for a brief moment if I should be offended that the Ministry of Mages thought that sending a pair of circus clowns would do that trick, before reminding myself yet again that appearances were deceptive and that I should probably just be glad they hadn’t sent more minions.

The pair of them were clearly in the middle of a pressing argument.

“No, no, no, no, no. Are you a mentalist, Martha? Are you mental? There is no way that Captain Kirk, Captain James Tiberius Kirk, would be beaten by anyone from the X-men. He might not have super powers, but he’s clearly of superior intellect and with superior cunning and all round abilities.”

Seriously? Mage Trekkies? I half considered calling on Solus to tell him the deal was off. Martha, for her part, simply grunted unimpressedly at her partner’s assertion. Perhaps she wasn’t much of a Star Trek fan either.

He continued on. “I mean, sure Wolverine has mad skills but you have to take into account that James T. Kirk is quite simply…”

The Trekkie stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me. Mute Martha didn’t quite notice me so quickly and slammed into his back. Swearing loudly, she lifted a hand to cuff him round the head, and then her eyes widened as she too saw me. Her arm dropped by her side and her mouth fell open.

Clearly this didn’t happen to them very often. I pasted a wide bright smile. “Hi! Welcome to Clava Books. How may I help you?”

They both continued to stare at me. Wow. These two really did have to work on their reaction times. If I had been some big bad nasty (and maybe I actually was) then I could have probably pulverized these two into dust by now.

I tried again. “Is there any book in particular that you’re looking for?”

Martha recovered first. She flicked her fingers and sent a flash of orange light hurtling towards me. I dodged out its way, skipping to the side behind a bookshelf and calling out, “Well, that wasn’t very nice, was it?”

The beam of light smashed into the wall behind where I’d been standing and sizzled an old poster with curling yellow edges advertising the latest Gaelic ‘blockbuster’ on famous salmon spawning spots in the highlands.

Grunting again to her hash sodden partner, Martha said something to her partner. I could hear both of them moving, taking up different spots around the shop floor, trying to outflank me. I felt the heat inside me uncoil and smiled humourlessly at its return. For a moment, I gazed at my fingertips and watched them spark at the edges with flickers of green flame, before dismissing them by curling my fingers into my palms. Displaying my newly found witchy powers might not be a good idea if this went against me.

All of a sudden there was a rumble and a crash. One of them, I assumed the Trekkie, was over-turning the bookshelves. They were stacked pretty close to each other and towered high up to the ceiling. The effect created was somewhat of a domino line, with each shelf crashing into the next one, taking away all of my cover and leaving me nowhere to hide. Well, if that was the way they wanted to play it then fine. I jumped out from behind the safety of the shelf just before it too went crashing against the hard wooden floor, and pulled out the silver needle from behind my head. My hair fell loose, swinging irritatingly against my face, but I ignored it and focused on the figure in front of me. The heat inside me directed my actions and, with one twist of my wrist, I sent the needle flashing towards it. I sprang back behind the sturdy counter that housed the till and ducked down, without waiting to see if I’d hit my mark, although the answering yelp of pain assured me that I had.

“We could just talk about this first, you know,” I shouted out to the now dust-filled shop. “There’s no need to be so hasty.”

Silence answered me. Clearly they weren’t in any mood to negotiate. I shrugged. I’d given them their chance and already made my point. It had been a while since I’d had a real fight. Punching a Fae and dealing with a drunk Derek had hardly allowed me to let loose much of my pent up energy. Neither had struggling against the steel hard grip of Corrigan for that matter. It was about time I had a little fun. The tension of the last hours swam through my veins in unrestrained heat, until prickles of fire hit my eyelids and took over. Without conscious thought, I leapt out from behind the counter and pulled up the heavy old-fashioned till, yanking it from its power socket and flinging it towards where I’d heard the needle induced shout of pain. It banged against the leg of the fallen male mage who went from clutching his cheek where the silver had pierced through to grabbing hold of his leg. Martha was standing in the opposite corner, next to the fallen stacks of shelves. Her body was tense and her fists were clenched, leaning every so slightly to the left. I jumped to my right and just managed to escape the shooting orange beam that she sent, then I ran at her headlong, barreling into her stomach and smacking her against the window.

The impact of her body against the hard glass sent me momentarily bouncing back, scuffing a fallen bookshelf with my heels. I heard sounds of Trekkie staggering slowly to his feet so I picked up one of the fallen books, flinging it hard in his direction. The buzz that registered through my hand before it left my fingers gave me the sudden grim satisfaction that it was the Fae book that had become my weapon. It must be my day to be making the Wee Ones work for me, I figured. Unfortunately, it didn’t deter him too much and the air in the small shop started to hum with power. His eyes had turned glassy and he was chanting something under his breath. Blue light was starting to ripple around him, not unlike what Alex had conjured when he was using a tracing spell down in Cornwall. Before I could react further, I felt a clawing, suffocating band of pain round my throat, squeezing it tight. Panicking I gulped for air. Martha was back on her feet, also muttering something, also with blue light suffusing itself around her.

I sank to my knees, fingers scrabbling at my throat as I tried to suck in air desperately. Almost every vestige of conscious thought had fled from my mind – all I could think of was my closed airway and the screaming pain and pressure building in my lungs. I scrunched my eyes up tight and sucked up the last part of flame from inside my stomach and them, without thinking further, wrenched my hands away from my neck and flung them out in opposite directions each pointing towards a different mage. Imagining a flash of green fire behind my eyelids, I concentrated as hard as I was able, feeling the tingle of Maggie’s unhappy gift shoot again from my fingertips. Air crackled around me. The chanting from both magicians abruptly stopped and the hum in the room blinked out like a light. I fell forward onto my hands and knees, choking, opening my eyes and becoming dimly aware of the green tinged glow coming from both sides of the shop. Forcing myself to move as quickly as I could, I pulled myself to my feet and flicked a glance in both directions. The green fire was completely consuming both mages, who were silently screaming from behind a wall of flame. It didn’t seem to be burning them conventionally in the way that a normal fire would, although the shop and its contents around them were lighting up like dry kindling. Rather my attack seemed to be holding them in place, nullifying their own blue light and rooting them to the spot as the building around them burned.

The acrid smell of burning paper and wood had completely filled the area. Martha’s eyes were wide and terror filled, whilst Trekkie’s arms were flailing around uselessly. I paused for a heartbeat then sprang towards him, pulling his body away from the flame and yanking him towards the street. I placed my hand on the knob of the glass front door to turn it, but the metal seared into my skin, tearing off shreds of flesh as I snatched my hand back. Still holding onto Trekkie’s arm with my other hand, I mustered up every atom of power I could and kicked out with my booted foot at the glass. Thankfully it shattered easily and I jumped out the jagged exit I’d created, dragging him after me. I thrust his body down onto the road, away from the kerb and the heat of the now explosively burning bookshop, then ducked my head down and went back inside.

Martha was in the spot where I’d last seen her, against the front window of the shop. The shelves that she’d so cleverly knocked down scant moments before were ablaze and fire was licking up the sides of the walls, eating up the curling faded wallpaper. The smoke was becoming thicker by the second. Pulling up my t-shirt to cover my nose and mouth I reached for her and tugged her arm sharply to get her away from whatever strange immobilising properties my shot of green light had created. She barely moved, however. Through the clouds of smoke I just made out her eyes staring down in panic at her foot. I glanced down. It was caught underneath the edge of one of the heavy wooden shelves. I could feel her pull at it to get out but it didn’t seem to shift. The heat inside the shop was becoming almost completely unbearable. Martha stared at me with wide eyes. Flecks of orange light danced behind her pupils. Raising up a single index finger, I pointed at her as if I was holding an imaginary gun. Her muscles tensed and her eyes squeezed tight. I moved my finger down and then flicked it at the offending shelf. A flickering beam of green light shot its way towards the wood, which then, abruptly, exploded in cloud of splinters. Barely registering the shards of wood that had embedded themselves into my clothes and skin, I tugged at her body again. This time, her feet came free and we were moving towards the shattered door and out into the sweet clear night air of the street.

In the distance, the wail of sirens could faintly be heard. I turned and stared at Clava Books, sucking in the fresh air in loud gasps. The paint was peeling away from the old sign and flames and smoke were billowing out from the hole in the door. I felt a dull ache in my chest as Mrs Alcoon’s pride and joy disappeared whilst I watched. Tears streamed from my eyes and I tried to blink them away. Feeling a yank from my hand, I turned to my left and realised I was still holding onto Martha. I let go and she backed away, tripping up over her feet and falling to the cobbled road below. Trekkie was now on the opposite side of the road, away from the searing heat emanating from the shop, looking from me to Martha to the inferno and back again. I opened my mouth to say something then thought better of it. The sirens were getting louder. I turned on my feet and just ran.