The fight to save the human and magical worlds is ON...but witch (in-training) Ramya isn't much help unless she can learn her new powers--and fast . It's a race to the finish in the stunning conclusion to the Like a Charm duology from the award-winning author of A Kind of Spark. Ramya thought discovering she was a witch would make life easier. But mastering her powers isn't going as smoothly as she thought. And while she is stuck in Loch Ness stumbling through spells, the wicked siren Portia is gaining control over the human and hidden worlds in the city. Time is running out, but the more Ramya presses, the more her family insists she isn't ready for the fight. Then an old friend is kidnapped, and Ramya can't wait any longer. Armed with a lot of bravery, a little magic, and a few new friends, Ramya hopes it is enough to take down Portia and the sirens forever--before everything she loves is lost forever. " An immersive and intriguing fantasy with real depth." — Kirkus Reviews "Bucking the trend of middle-grade adventure stories, in this one the adults handle the problems so that the kids don’t have to—but young readers will still find lots to identify with in this exciting, imaginative novel ." — The Horn Book Elle McNicoll is a bestselling and award-winning novelist. Her debut, A Kind of Spark , was a Schneider Family Honor title, an overall winner of the Waterstones Children’s Book Prize, and a Blackwell’s Book of the Year. She has been nominated for the Carnegie Medal and was shortlisted for the Books Are My Bag Readers Awards, the Branford Boase Award, and the Little Rebels Children’s Book Award. Her second novel, Show Us Who You Are , was a Blackwell’s Book of the Month title and one of the Bookseller’s Best Book of the year. She is an advocate for better representation of neurodiversity in publishing and currently lives in London. Learn more at her website ellemcnicoll.com Chapter One The Oak Tree I can see that the tree has moved. It’s a little closer to the house than it was yesterday. “Ramya? Ramya!” I know Gran is asking me something. Or telling me something. Yet I cannot stop staring at the tree. Pondering how it could possibly have moved since last night. It’s an oak tree, and I noticed it when Mum and Dad first dropped me off here. Mum said it wasn’t there when she and her sisters were younger. Even Gran seemed a bit puzzled by it. “Ramya, stop daydreaming for five seconds and try the spell again.” I’m sitting at the breakfast nook in Gran’s large kitchen. There’s an AGA stove and a large fireplace. I know what I’m supposed to be casting, but I’m not Mum. I’m not so good at fire. Gran is pretending to be preoccupied with her mortar and pestle, getting the seasoning ready for dinner, but I can tell by the way her shoulders sit that she is concentrating on my task instead. I’m not allowed to attempt fire by myself, not ever. I focus on the empty space in the wall where the wood is waiting for a flame. I concentrate on what Aunt Opal always says. Focus on the doing and not the trying. She always says we don’t try to do the things that are most important, we just do them. Magic is no different. But this still feels more like trying than doing. Gran must sense my growing frustration, because she briskly moves to the window and says, “Were you staring at that oak tree?” I glare down at my empty palms but take the olive branch. “Yes. It seems like it’s getting closer to the house.” “It’s probably just growing taller,” she counters, but she doesn’t sound completely convinced. It’s winter; in Scotland that means the dark creeps in during the afternoon. It’s dusk and we are so remote, far from any urban life at all. That does not include Hidden Folk. They are scattered all around, and they like to visit Gran’s giant house. Loch Ness is so different from anywhere I’ve ever been. While other lochs in Scotland are little blotches on the map, Loch Ness is a long and straight splinter. I expected it to be like a traditional lake, a wide body of water that lets you see the other side. Like the Forth in Edinburgh or Loch Morlich near Aviemore. But Loch Ness is endless. Slender, but as deep as fresh water can be. I haven’t asked any of the Hidden Folk about the rumors Loch Ness is famous for. I’m a little afraid of what they might say. I see some coming toward us, carrying a basket. “What are they?” Gran asks carefully. She can’t see through their Glamour, their human disguises, like I can. But their unusual packages, and their uninvited presence, give them away. “Troll,” I say nonchalantly. “One Blue Man. And a Hulder.” They reach the door and knock. This seems to be a regular occurrence at Gran’s house, and it made me nervous at first. However, Opal says the house is protected by Old Magic. An ancient spell from an ancestor, making the house untraceable to anyone who wishes its occupants harm. That’s the kind of spell I want to learn to cast. I fling the door open and