by R K Dreaming
Cauldrons & Kittens
Percy Prince Book 2
R.K. DREAMING
Copyright © 2019 by .R.K. Dreaming
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted or distributed in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author. The people, places and situations in this book are products of the author’s imagination and in no way reflect real or true events.
Cauldrons & Kittens
By R.K. DREAMING
Welcome to the witching world of Persephone Prince.
Percy Prince thought being the daughter of a witch was hard work, but it's nothing compared to trying to fit in at her new school Humble High. Percy’s amateur sleuthing got her school’s most popular succubus mean-girl into trouble, and now a string of deaths in school has Percy’s name written all over them.
With the student body hating her, Percy must clear her name and find out if a certain succubus is out for revenge. The odds are against Percy - a video showing her committing the crime has gone viral. She must prove her innocence and catch the real culprit, but all she has on her side are her best friend teen witch Nan Gooding and one clue - a lost kitten.
1. Magicwild Market
Percy Prince sealed the letter she had been writing with a great sigh of relief, sprang out of bed and bounded down the stairs of her large London townhouse. She flung open her front door, scooping up a sheet of paper lying on the doormat on her way, and leapt out onto the street.
It was Sunday morning and Percy was dressed in a patchy old nightgown. She didn’t care much for appearances, a fact her neighbors did not appreciate. For this was Notting Hill, home to London’s wealthy, and outside was a street full of pristine and imposing houses with pastel-fronted facades and fancy columns flanking their front entrances. The columns on Percy’s house were the fanciest of all.
Taking a look around, it was not long until Percy spotted that very London-ish of birds, a plump grey city pigeon sitting smugly atop a lamppost.
Looking around her to ensure that none of her Humble neighbors were in earshot, Percy whispered, “Hey, pigeon. I’ve got a letter for you. Come down!” She waved the envelope around in the air.
The pigeon ignored her.
Percy was annoyed at this. She knew full well that the pigeon had heard her. Pigeon-post was the most reliable form of bird post according to most witches, and Percy had often used them to send her letters.
“Psst! Pigeon, I know you can hear me!” she hissed.
The pigeon gave her a sidelong glance then made a sound that was positively sneering before looking away.
Percy frowned. Until several weeks ago it had always been Nanny Nora who had sent off Percy’s letters. But Nanny Nora had been a witch. Percy was fairly certain that this bird knew she was a Meek and was being a snob about it.
As a Meek — a non-magical person born into a witching family — Percy was accustomed to snobbery. But the last thing she needed in her life was for birds to be snobbish too.
Percy pushed back her rising annoyance and tried a different tack. “Please Mrs Pigeon. I need to send this letter to my mother. Will you help?”
The pigeon glared.
“Mr Pigeon?” Percy tried. “Madam Pigeon? Miss? Master? Lord Pigeon? Gosh darn it, get down here at once!”
The pigeon flew away.
“Oi, you stupid bird. Fly right into a window for all I care. I don’t need you!”
Percy was about to slam the door shut when she spotted something stuck on the lamppost that made her whirl back around and stare.
It was a poster printed on bright yellow paper, a shade chosen to make it unmissable. On it was a picture of a girl with lurid green hair.
Percy had green hair, though in a much deeper shade than the one used on the poster. It couldn’t be her on that poster, could it?
The piece of paper on Percy’s doormat had been the same color. Percy took it out of her robe pocket. It was folded, but even so, an awful feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.
She should have known as soon as she saw that paper lying on the doormat that something was not right. In all the years they’d had the letter flap on the front door, Percy had not received a single piece of mail from the Humble postal system. Not even junk mail. Percy had begun to suspect Nanny Nora must have enchanted it to keep the postman away.
Percy had begged Nanny Nora to install this letter flap, secretly hoping that perhaps some long lost relative would get in touch. Maybe someone non-magical just like her. No one had.
Her heart thudded as she unfolded the paper, and then crashed to an angry stop. It was the same image as on the lamppost— and it was definitely a drawing of Percy.
It was a rather good likeness except for the shade of green of her hair, and the fact that she was wearing a witch’s hat and witch’s robes in it. Above her head was slathered the word SNITCH in gloopy red ink that had been made to drip like blood. At the bottom was written the words Snitches Get Stitches.
Snitch indeed! Percy growled in anger.
She knew exactly who had sent it. Marching out onto the street, she snatched the poster off the lamppost.
But there were more. They had been stuck all down her street on every lamppost and tree trunk. Percy collected them all, and got back to her door to see one had been stuck to that too.
She tore it off, stomped to the kitchen, and dumped them in the bin.
Jeeves, the family poltergeist was at the hob, stirring something that was sizzling in a frying pan. Aromas that made her stomach growl rose from it.
“What was that?” he enquired, looking at the bin, his eyebrows raised.
“Nothing,” Percy muttered.
She wished now that she had chosen any other bin in which to throw the papers, because Jeeves was a curious sort, and no doubt he would take a look at the posters the minute she left the kitchen.
She didn’t need him knowing her business.
“What’s for breakfast, Jeeves?” she asked, trying to distract him.
Percy couldn’t quite see what he was cooking through his body, which was semi-transparent and the color of pearly mist. Going closer, she peered through him. He was flipping over golden brown patties of shredded potatoes with a spatula.
“Hash,” he declared happily. “American style. And poached eggs with avocados, and some of your favorite crispy bacon.”
“Smells amazing.”
“You didn’t want sausages, did you?”
“Nope, it all looks great.”
In fact, the anticipation of a delicious breakfast, improved Percy’s mood significantly. She sat down at the large kitchen table, and Jeeves plated up a big steaming dish of everything and wafted over to put it down in front over her.
“Eat up! Eat!” he encouraged. “You’re skinny as a string bean, no matter how hard I try. I don’t want your mother saying I’ve been starving you when she comes home.”
Percy’s mother had not been home in nearly a year.
Percy froze with a forkful of bacon halfway to her mouth. “Is mother coming home?” she asked in alarm.
“Not that I’ve heard. Why? Do you think she will?” He looked very hopeful at this possibility. There was nothing Jeeves liked better than cooking up a storm for her mother’s vast crowds of admirers and friends.
“I hope not!” she said.
The corners of Jeeves’s mouth turned down. “We could do with a little life in this house. Would it kill you to throw a dinner party every once in a while?”
“I would need friends to throw parties,” said Percy darkly.
“And you’d have them if you but tried a little harder,” he said sulkily.
“Not you too, Jeeves,” Percy gro
aned, her mouth full. Then she gave a moan of delight at the perfection of the potatoes, and this seemed to mollify Jeeves somewhat.
“I just want to relax,” she said. “Half the weekend is over already. No talk of school from you, please. Not one word!”
It was finally the weekend, a precious weekend after a long and terrible week at school. Percy planned for every moment of this Sunday to be bliss.
It was two weeks since Percy had started attending Humble High, and never had she found herself more unpopular in her life.
She wouldn’t have cared about this if she hadn’t had to see the same faces in classes every day looking at her suspiciously, like she was about to accuse them of murder. It wore one down after a while.
A week ago, Percy had committed the apparently grave sin of finding out who had murdered a judge at the school’s Charity Beauty Pageant, and she had announced it in front of the entire school.
If she had thought this might make her fellow students like her better, she had been wrong. Unfortunately, one of the school’s most popular students had been involved in the sordid affair. Now, instead of being called “Greentop” and “Mosshead” and “Oddball,” they were calling her “Snitch.”
Jeeves, it seemed, was not in the mood to play along with her request.
“Are you going to tell me what you threw so angrily in the bin?” he asked melodramatically. “Or am I going to have to suffer the indignity of not knowing the things that are going on under my very own roof?” He slammed the lid onto the frying pan with a clang.
Percy rolled her eyes. She supposed he was going to find out anyway.
“If you must know,” she said, “it’s just some girls from school letting me know that they’re mad at me for getting their friend into trouble. If she hadn’t wanted to land herself in jail, she shouldn’t have gotten herself involved in murdering someone, should she?”
Jeeves had floated down to hover on the chair opposite Percy in a semblance of actually sitting on it.
“I really don’t think your mother would approve of you getting entangled in such tawdry things,” he said.
“I really don’t think mother would approve of me going to Humble High in the first place,” said Percy. “It’s not like I even wanted to go to school. But the Eldritch Council made me, so I’m just going to have to put up with it.”
She felt a tad guilty for telling this little white lie to Jeeves who was practically family.
It was true that Percy did not enjoy school, but without Nanny Nora to nag her, life at home had grown very tedious. And without Humble High, Percy would never have had her long-awaited reunion with her former and once again best friend Nan Gooding.
And nor would Percy be in a position to keep an eye on the school librarian Lucifer Darkwing and the school headmistress Ruthless Glory, who were — like it or not — two people who Percy had better very much never lose track of.
A muffled sound came through the wall. Jeeves had said something, but as he had stuck his head into the larder, his voice came out sounding like nothing more than a mumble.
Percy had her mouth full of crispy fried potatoes smothered in dripping yolk. She had to chew fast and swallow hard before she could shout, “What did you say?”
A moment later, Jeeves’s head popped back through the wall. “I said, did you write to your mother?”
Percy groaned. The saga of the letter had been haunting her for what seemed like forever.
“Did you?” he persisted, sounding as bad as Mr Bramble. “You’ve been putting it off for more than a week!”
“Yes, yes, and all because I’ve been terrible,” she said. “But you know how mother gets. If you must know, I have written it actually. All I need to do is send it off.”
“Why haven’t you sent it already?”
“Because the stupid bird flew off,” grumbled Percy.
“And did you tell her about Nanny Nora?” Jeeves asked.
Percy nodded.
This was the main reason for writing the letter. Percy had fired her nanny several weeks ago, reasoning that now she had turned fifteen there was no need for a nanny, even if there was not a sniff of another responsible adult in the house.
Percy had promised Mr Bramble, the heg who lived at the bottom of her garden, that she would inform her mother of what she had done. Having to keep this news a secret had stressed poor little Mr Bramble out so much that he’d gone walkabout in London, ended up homeless, and very nearly lost his memory as well as his mind. Big cities were dangerous places for hegs, who adored nature and did not thrive away from it.
“It’s not fair,” she said. “Now mum will probably insist on hiring another nanny and I don’t need one. Not that she would know that I’ve grown up, since she never comes home!”
“Grown up!” Jeeves chortled. Then he added brightly, “Or maybe she will come home to take care of you herself.”
Percy thought this was unlikely, and she was glad. The last she’d heard, her mother had been having a wild and wonderful time in sunny Bali.
Gwendolyn Prince was a rich and powerful witch after all, and in her opinion rich and powerful witches deserved to enjoy the very best that life had to offer, and not be shackled to ungrateful and grumpy offspring.
“Maybe she’ll have met an interesting young fellow and finally come home to settle down,” said Jeeves, looking excited at the possibility.
“Hell’s bells,” muttered Percy. “I hope not.”
“Your mother deserves a little happiness,” protested Jeeves.
“It’s not like she’s been missing out on it,” said Percy sourly. Then she added more cheerily, “Anyway, there’s no need for her to come home. I’ve reassured her that the time for nannies is over and that I’m doing perfectly well on my own.”
Jeeves had the kind of old-fashioned, sensible face that often looked full of its own consequence. But right now he was definitely smirking.
“And did you tell her that you drove a car illegally and then crashed it in Central London?” he asked.
“Oh, shut it, Jeeves!”
“Causing trouble in front of Humbles was the one thing your mother forbade you to do,” he said. “Your poor mother. What she must have thought when that awful man from the Eldritch Council got in touch with her! The shame!”
“The dastardly Councilor Strickt of the Eldritch Council can stuff it,” said Percy sulkily. “I solved his murder for him, but did he write to her and tell her that? I don’t think so!”
“Ooh,” said Jeeves. “Did you tell her that?”
“No, I did not!” said Percy. “And neither will you. All I told her was that he’s the one who made me go to Humble High as punishment.”
“I don’t think your mother would like you going to that school,” he said.
“Tell me about it.”
Gwendolyn Prince was going to be more than displeased when she read that Percy planned to continue to attend Humble High.
“Your mother still hopes that you’ll be a witch and that your magic is just late in showing up,” he said. “It’s not her fault. She just wants the best for you. She hoped you’d follow in her footsteps and attend Magicwild Academy. It’s the best witching school in the world, you know!”
He said this rather dreamily, as if fondly remembering his own time spent there many centuries ago.
“Well now her hopes are going to be dashed, aren’t they? Because I’m a Meek and I’ll never get to go to Magicwild Academy. I’ve had to get used to it. Why can’t she?”
“She’s done her best for you,” he said, looking a little peevish. “Hiring nanny after nanny to educate you, and after all the trouble you’ve given to those poor witches too!”
Percy scowled. Her mother had always insisted that Percy must be educated at home, which Percy had always thought was because her mother was ashamed of her. Now she wondered if it was because of a worse reason — if it was because her mum knew that there was something wrong with Percy, something much more sinister th
an being just a Meek.
Because two weeks ago, when Percy had crashed the car, an odd and terrible yet wonderful memory had come back to her of a former life. A life where she had been the daughter of a Lord of Hell and a fallen angel, and where she had been called Demonling and had a best friend named Cherub, who had indeed been a Cherub. A life where she had lived it up and been very bad indeed — not that she could remember it more than hazily — until her despairing fallen angel Mother had banished her into the mortal realm, to here, where her soul had found a home in the brand new baby girl being born to one Gwendolyn Prince.
When Percy began to attend Humble High she had discovered, to her shock, that both of her hell-parents had recently been banished to the mortal realm themselves and were staff at Humble High.
This latter part was something Percy had most certainly not included in her letter to Gwendolyn. One earth-mother was trouble enough, and she certainly didn’t need her earth-mother knowing about her hell-parents. Or former hell-parents, as she was determined to think of Lucifer Darkwing and Ruthless Glory as being.
“If it makes you happy,” Percy told Jeeves, “I’ve apologized to mum about it all – and she knows how much I hate to apologize, so it has to count for something. And I’ve told her that school is whipping me into shape, and that Nan is there, and she is being a very good influence on me. Ha!”
“That last bit is true, at least,” observed Jeeves, looking unconvinced. “Speaking of Cherub, is she still coming for lunch?”
“Yep, and then she and I are going to go out and see a movie.”
Neither Jeeves, nor Mr Bramble, knew about Percy and Nan’s former lives as Demonling and Cherub. As toddlers the girls had taken to calling each other by these nicknames without remembering where they came from, and so the poltergeist and the heg still referred to Nan as Cherub.
Percy added, “I’ll ask her if she wants to stay for dinner, but you know what Nan is like. She’ll probably want to get back home early to do her homework.”
