A fortnight had passed since Cathy drank the binding potion.

During the day, she kept busy, but at night, she missed her family, even Jake.

The house Hex built was enormous, and it took every minute of every day to keep it clean. And lugging an invisible chain around with her everywhere was exhausting.

Cathy learnt to avoid Hex, to keep her head down and never answer back. The sorcerer was at best bad-tempered, at worst, wicked.

He seemed to delight in the suffering and misfortune of others. And when he had nothing better to do, tormenting Cathy was his favourite pastime. The only kind words she heard came from her friend Tibbles, who dropped in every morning for breakfast. In return for the food, the cat answered questions about magic spells.

"How does a Laughing Spell work?" Cathy asked, whilst Tibbles polished off her leftover porridge.

The cat licked her sticky paws and when she'd finished cleaning herself, she said, "It depends on the intention behind the spell."

"What does that mean?"

"Say, you want to make a sad person happy. Then a Laughing Spell is good magic. The intent is good. But a Laughing Spell without limit can make a person laugh themselves to death." Tibbles pushed the bowl away from her and began eating a crumpet.

"What about a Dancing Spell?" Cathy asked.

"Same thing."

"A Love Potion?"

"Same."

"I see," she replied, thinking about the hundreds of potions and spells in this house.

Hex could do so many kind things with his gifts. But he wouldn't do a single good deed... ever.

"Magic, like everything else in life, is about perspective. It is how you approach it. How you choose to wield it matters. It's about what lies within you. Would you do wonderful things and expect nothing in return? Or are you someone who thinks only of herself? Are you a girl destined to follow Hex?"

Cathy considered her friend's words. She wouldn't be like Hex. She was nothing like him.

"Well, I must be going. Places to be, fairies to see." Tibbles dropped her crumpet and shook the crumbs from her fur. "I'll see you tomorrow. Can I have more butter on the crumpet next time?"

"I guess so."

Tibbles jumped to the window and waved goodbye.

Cathy cleared the table and washed up, and her mind drifted again to the spells in Hex's alchemy room.

 *

It was late morning and Cathy stared out of the kitchen window, watching the rain fall in heavy drops, hammering against the windows and doors.

Mondays were laundry days. Hex made her scrub sheets in a huge wooden tub of hot water until her skin turned red and her hands were sore. She was sure he could create a spell to make the dirty washing clean in just a poof. But Hex liked to see her work, and he did nothing unless it benefited him.

The weather was so miserable the washing wouldn't dry, so Cathy dusted instead. With a feather duster sticking out from her apron pocket and her hands full of cleaning rags and tins of polish, she headed for the library, which could take her all day to clean.

The library door was open. Hex had stopped locking it a week after she arrived. Convinced she had the same IQ as a pot plant, he'd relaxed enough to give her access to almost the entire house. All except for his alchemy room.

So, being intelligent and an excellent reader, she used her time wisely.

When she should've scrubbed the floors, she studied Hex's spell books. When she should've polished the silver and buffed the brass, she began learning the names and purpose of every potion, powder, lotion and ointment.

Cathy slipped into the library and closed the door behind her.

She opened the tin, smearing enough polish on the bookshelves to make it appear as though she'd been hard at work. Then she went to her favourite shelf of books... The books about creating wealth and power.

One book caught her eye... How To Fool A Fairy. It was an insightful book about lying, trickery and legal loopholes. Written by the Chief Defence Lawyer for the rulers of the Imp Empire.

She read how easy it was to word a magical contract to bamboozle the fairy. That it wasn't lying if there was a grain of truth. It gave an example of how, if the magical contracts were vague enough, the creator could interpret them any way they saw fit. It was so clever. She'd just placed the book back on the shelf when the library door swung open.

Hex swooped in, took one long look at her, and growled through his teeth. But Hex wasn't alone. Behind him walked a dark grey, scaly imp wearing a three-piece suit, and behind the imp walked a witch, dressed in a long black hooded cape.

Cathy knew all about witches. In Hex's books, witches were wicked, cruel, and mean. The few crones throughout this land were ruthless. And this witch may be the worst of the worst.

The witch lowered her hood to reveal her hideous face. Everything Cathy had read was true. The witch's skin was blanched and dry, with lines so deep she could've been tens of thousands of years old. Her eyes were cold and dark, like pools of swamp water. A large brown wart protruded from the side of her chin and sprouted two thick black hairs.

"Prince Horace... Agnes, what brings you to my home?" Hex gestured to the leather chairs by the fireplace.

"Is it safe to talk?" Horace glanced at Cathy. She tried to look as though she was working as she eavesdropped.

"It's quite safe. The girl's an idiot. Barely even sentient most of the time." Hex laughed as he insulted her.

She said nothing.

"Very well. We came to you because we need your help." Agnes tapped her jagged fingernails on the arm of her chair.

"Oh, with what?"

"As you know, Agnes loves children. She loves them so much, she collects them. But these days it's becoming more difficult to lure children. They seem to have become smarter. More untrusting, more... suspicious," Horace hissed.

"Not all." Hex looked at Cathy again and grinned a wicked grin. "Tell me. Why should I help you trick the children? What's in it for me?" He looked less interested in the vile pair than he had five minutes earlier.

"Mummy only wishes to turn them into dolls to add to her wonderful collection. We have no interest in their magic. We have plenty of our own. But if you steal the children's magic, you will be the most powerful sorcerer the fairies have ever known. Just think of it.  The respect, the status, the fear. We can give you that. If you'll help us?" Prince Horace slumped back in his chair, crossed his legs and placed his clawed hands in his lap.

Hex sat straighter and his dark eyes glinted with twisted intrigue. "Tell me more, Prince. I'm listening."

Cathy slipped behind a bookshelf, hoping Hex and his two guests would forget she was there, and picking up her feather duster, she began dusting the shelves.

"We need you to entice the children. Bring them to us. Build a trap." Agnes stared at Hex.

"Why can't you two come up with a trap?" Hex frowned at Agnes' two rotten teeth poking out from between her thin dry lips.

"We are far too busy. We have other matters which need our attention." Horace leaned forward in his chair. Hex jumped up and walked to the fireplace, resting his hand on the mantlepiece.

"Very well. I'll help you devise a way to catch children. But I warn you, witch... double-cross me and you'll regret it," Hex snarled.

Prince Horace leapt to his feet and growled, "Speak to mummy like that again and you'll be sorry. If you wish to work with us, then show respect."

"I make no apologies. I mean what I say." Hex glared at Horace, his dark magic hissed in the air.

Horace stepped closer to Hex, so the pair stood toe to toe.

"Now let us not start on the wrong foot. Hex, I will forget your impertinence. And Horace sweetheart. Mummy appreciates your concern for me, but this deal will benefit us all. So gentlemen, shake hands and be calm."

Prince Horace stepped backwards. "As you wish, mummy."

The Prince of Imps held out his clawed hand, and Hex reluctantly shook it.

"Excellent," Agnes croaked. "We'll look forward to hearing from you, Hex." Agnes turned to Horace and said, "Darling son, we must meet with the giants in the Court of Clouds."

Prince Horace smiled warmly at his mother. "Let us leave."

Cathy watched Horace through a small gap between two books. The imp took something shiny from his pocket. With a flash of green and a plume of smoke, the wicked pair vanished, leaving an unpleasant odour in the air.