E.C. EDWARDS - The Mighty Antimagic Spell
Chapter 12 - Black Widow’s Deadly Touch

“Catherine Edwards?!”

Miss Blackwood ran down the corridors of the orphanage, with the reminder to limp from time to time when she met a small group of frightened children in her way.

“Elizabeth, where are you, little bitch?!”

As usual, the old lady fiercely looked for her... to make poor girl’s life even more miserable. The woman kept screaming.

“Catherine Edwards ?!”

She entered each tiny room, each dormitory stuffed with furniture and old closets. Some of those closets had no doors because they were eaten by bugs. She hit them with her crutch.

The old lady saw a lot of children washing the floor blackened in time, not because of the dirt, but because the children used to polish it daily. That floor with traps here and there with rotten or broken planks.

“Kid, where's Elizabeth Edwards?”

The boy, about seven, carried a bucket full of water almost heavier than he was. He stopped near the old hag.

“I don't know, Miss Blackwood.”

“Yeah, you never know anything. Only I have to know and do them all.”

The old lady also looked in the next room, the last one she had not checked. Still nothing. She got close to the child again, mumbling something.

“We help you as much as we can…,” said the little boy with big black eyes looking at Mrs. Blackwood with a smile.

The woman looked at the boy, frowning.

“Don’t you have a job to finish?”

The boy nodded his head.

“Then what the hell are you looking for here? Go!”

The boy hardly picked up the huge bucket and started rattling with it.

The old woman, who above all was limp, only when she wanted or remembered, continued her search and went down the stairs to the ground floor. At their end, someone waited for her.

“Mr. Harp ... how nice to see you. I just tidied... I let you know, if I still have to be on my own, I will definitely not enjoy the winter holidays.

"I'm sure you'll deal with it, Miss Blackwood," Mr. Harp said sharply. Unfortunately I can't give you the good news of hiring a help for you, but I still have good news.

The lady smiled softly in the corner of her mouth, as if she knew it was something that would really please her.

“What is it, Mr. Harp?” Miss Blackwood sighed.

“Someone came after Miss Elizabeth Catherine Edwards ... took her and left.”

The woman breathed a sigh of relief, smiling as if the sun hit her face.

“I didn't think you'd really enjoy this, Miss Blackwood. I mean ... I knew you would enjoy it, but I never saw you so happy.”

“That's why I can’t replace the little bitch anymore. Finally, Count Dragoesti came after her,” the woman expressed her relief once more. “I served all this time as he asked me to ... a task that seemed too difficult and which a person of my worth shouldn’t accept. That little witch drove me all batshit ...”

But even with so many lost years, as she said, Miss Blackwood smiled joyously. Mr. Harp looked at the woman.

“The gentleman who came was not called Dragoesti ... he had another name,” he said.

These words seemed to drive Madame Blackwood mad, for her gaze and frown on her face indicated that she turned into a demon. She looked at the director and began to yell as she grabbed his collar:

“WHAT DID YOU SAY? WHAT DID YOU DO, ASSHOLE? What do you mean? Who took her, tell me right away!”

"Miss Blackwood, what does that mean?" Mr. Harp screamed, scared.

“HOW COULD YOU LET A STRANGER GET THE CHILD? Do know the danger you got me into ... DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU DID?”

Mr. Harp grabbed the woman by the hand and managed to convince her using the force to leave him alone.

“Miss Blackwood! I will fire you and you will no longer work at any orphanage. I will personally take care of this.”

The woman fixed the director with a cold, hateful gaze. She got quieter, but she clearly anguished over a serious problem ... something was bugging her.

“I'm sorry Mr Harp ... I'm sorry for my outburst.”

“You waste your words ... I'll still fire you. Such behaviour is not accepted, especially in front of poor children.”

Behind half-open doors several children panicked because of the screams, witnessed that scene. Here and there a little head could be seen sticking out for a moment to better see what happened, and vanishing as quickly as possible.

Nonetheless, little did he care about the children; it was his wounded pride.

“I understand Mr. Harp. I admit my mistake and will bear the consequences. Just tell me that gentleman’s name ...”

“Why are you so curious? He had an act from the Social Assistance Organization signed and sealed. He wanted Elizabeth so I gave her to him. I got rid of that little pest.”

Miss Blackwood was devastated. It was obvious that what pleased her first slowly broke her heart, like lava boiling in a volcano about to erupt, melted inside.

“It's not your concern; the name is written in the register in my office. And the office drawer is locked and the key is well hidden. So, as long as I live, you will not replace out that man’s name. Because that's what I want. Go get your luggage and leave the orphanage today. You will no longer live in the Angel's Hand. Today the angel slapped you and kicked you out,” the director smiled.

The man looked at the assembled children and tried to explain them:

“Miss Blackwood will leave now and live on the streets because she was rude and attacked me. I'll kick her out in the streets!”

Miss Blackwood got close to Mr. Harp again. He startled and stepped back. He looked a little at her beaming face, then he plucked up a little courage:

“Miss Blackwood, if you touch me again I will really slap you and call the police. Instead of wandering, free, along dirty, miserable streets, which you may enjoy, you will rot in prison.”

Yet, Miss Blackwood was no longer aggressive, but extremely gentle and calm, contrary to her attitude in the seven years since she was in the orphanage:

“Keep calm, Mr. Harp. I won’t touch again your filthy, slimy body not even with any finger ...”

And Miss Blackwood spelled a few words. The children who were present heard her say Sophocles’ Antigone among the words spoken and swirling a thin and tastefully worked stick, a wand. Then they saw Mr. Harp crashing to the ground.

He tried to say something, but even though his mouth was wide open, he couldn't speak a word or breathe. His face flushed like a ripe apple and his eyes became so huge that they almost didn't fit in orbit. Only little, low groans could be heard coming out of his throat.

Miss Blackwood once again uttered an unspeakable word, Efficere, and again waved that thin wand, following a different pattern now, and the string around Mr. Harp's neck broke and a small key flew at her.

The old hag entered quickly the director's office, leaving him struggling not to choke, while all the children ran away, big and small, some of them leaving the orphanage, probably looking for police officers.

As the woman made her way to Harp's office, she unrolled her braided bun in her hair as white as snow.

Her stumbling, limping gait became like that of a ballerina, her hair got red like the fur of a fox, and her posture of old, hunchback lady, became like that of a princess who lived in the time of ancient kingdoms. Her clothing became so beautiful that many women would envy her.

When she arrived at that room, the beautiful woman came inside. She whispered a few words, then the key she took from Mr. Harp's neck entered the lock on its own and the drawer got unlocked and left its slot by itself.

A small register flew toward her, stopping in her soft, fine hands. Grabbing the register, the alluring lady began to read in it. She started laughing slightly, then louder and louder ending up laughing like crazy.

She suddenly stopped suddenly, then clutching her hair in her hands she said:

“Vlad will kill you ... Idiot!”

She slammed the register against the wall yellowed in time and looked confused through the room. The woman felt one of the frightened children who still had the courage to get close to the door, was following her.

“Leave, kid, or you'll suffer like Harp. You know I hate children!”

The boy ran away like hell.

The woman moved her fingers in a chaotic manner, probably a twitch of hers when things didn’t go well. Eventually, she snapped them and vanished into thin air.

In a few moments a few law enforcement officers entered the orphanage. Some of them were led by the children to Mr. Harp, where they found him breathless ... as if drowned in a lake. There was water in his mouth, his nose was the same, and around him was a puddle, on a day when there was no rain in all England.

Some of the police officers rushed to his office, but here they found nothing but a flipped drawer and the register she threw away.

So they spread out every each way to replace old Miss Blackwood, who in fact was that lovely woman and she just pretended she was Miss Blackwood so many years ... unaware, they couldn’t replace her in a hundred years.

Because they had to look for a young woman now, not a hag like hateful, horrid Miss Blackwood’s avatar for so many years.