“That’s because it’s witchfire,” said Mika, who had been swearing because she couldn’t believe there really were three small witches hiding in bloody Norfolk, of all places, not because she was afraid for any of those three small witches’ lives. “Witchfire only works on cauldrons. It’s completely harmless to everything else, though it does burn indefinitely if it isn’t properly extinguished. Didn’t Lillian tell you this?”

Ken sighed. “I’m afraid Lillian told us very little.”

As they watched, the child climbed down the ladder, unaffected by the green flames, her messy braid bouncing in time with each rung. She got to the bottom, picked up a tattered stuffed rabbit that had been lying at the foot of the tall oak tree, and then promptly climbed back up the burning ladder again.

“We have to smother the fire with blankets to put it out,” Ian went on, practically quivering with excitement. “It’s terribly tedious. I don’t suppose you know of a better way?”

As there was very little point in trying to hide her secret now, Mika raised one hand and flicked her fingers like she was trying to snatch a leaf out of the air. The witchfire, recognising the summons of a stronger and bossier entity than itself, came meekly, detaching itself from the rope ladder and vanishing into Mika’s closed hand like a puff of smoke.

“Good God,” Lucie murmured.

“Hah!” said Ian, triumphantly. “You see why we need you?”

“How did you know?” Mika asked. “Nothing in my videos should have given me away.”

Ian lifted his bony shoulders in a shrug. “You had a certain sparkle about you. Like the girls do.”

“For what it’s worth,” Jamie interrupted, as if he could see the dismay in Mika’s face, “no one else here noticed a thing.”

Still. Maybe it was time to make a graceful exit from the internet.

Mika looked back out at the tree house, where the children were still deeply absorbed in their activities, uninterested in the fact that the witchfire had gone out without any blankets involved. Primrose would have conniptions if she ever found out. She would come here with only the best of intentions and a lifelong commitment to the Rules (or, as she put it, the Greater Good), mow down every objection anyone might offer, and find these children safe, comfortable homes.

Far, far away from one another.

“Too much magic in one place attracts attention,” she would say. “Even wards can only hide so much. And attracting attention, as witches have discovered time and time again over the centuries, is dangerous. Alone is how we survive.”

But Primrose didn’t know about the children, and Lillian obviously had matters in hand, so it was a moot point.

“Tea?” Lucie asked Mika, holding out a cup, her face wreathed in a smile. “Come sit down.”

“So,” Ian said, bouncing eagerly on his own chair. “Will you stay?”