“What are they?” Milly whispered to Jasper.
“Gnome wizards.” The cat hissed. “From the look of their attire, they’re probably members of the High Council. They’re supposed to regulate all things magicks, but most of the time they just boss people around. They really, really don’t like my kind. Or yours.”*
Right as he said that, the gnome with the longest beard came to an abrupt halt. All the other gnomes bumped into him from behind. Clearly annoyed, he repeatedly tapped his left foot against the ground. A little cloud of dust rose.
“Ahem!” he said to the giant lumbering on in front of him. She seemed oblivious to the tiny gnomes.
“A-HEM,” the little gnome repeated, and whacked a stick against the giant’s ankle.
“Hrrrrrm?” The giant scratched her head with her free hand, then swung around. The hull of the boat scraped against the roof of one of the smaller houses, sending tiles clacking to the ground.
The little gnome stared up at the giant and ground his flat teeth together. “You’re in our way!” He twisted the stick around in his hand.
“Ah’m sorrrrrrry,” the giant said. “Ah’m gurrt.”*
“Move to the side and let us pass.”
The giant looked from side to side. “No rooooooom.”
“Well,” the gnome said, “make room!”
The giant frowned but curled herself into a ball so that she could fit between two buildings. She balanced the boat on top of her head and pulled her chin down. She looked like a small hill with a crooked hat.
“Better,” the head gnome said. He led the other gnomes past the giant. The youngest gnome, who hadn’t a lick of gray in his beard, whacked one of the giant’s toes as he walked past.
Milly gasped and stepped forward to confront them.
Jasper bit her sock and tried to pull her back.
“Stop! You’ll get us in trouble,” he said between clenched teeth. He spat out the fabric. “Your feet stink.”
Milly glared at the cat. “We can’t just do nothing.”
“Do you want to find your sister or not?”
When Milly turned back around, the gnomes had already vanished and the crowd swarmed back into the street as if nothing happened.
Milly looked up and made eye contact with the giant. She wanted to say sorry or . . . something. But the giant shook her head, uncurled herself, adjusted the boat onto her other shoulder, and continued lumbering along.
“Come on,” Jasper said. “We need to get moving.”
Milly fiddled with her fingers and glanced back.
“Hey! I’m serious. You need to forget all that. Now that you’re a you-know-what, this is something you’ll have to get used to. It’d be even worse for you if you got found out.”
She didn’t want to get used to it. But she followed along anyway.
Most of the rest of their walk was uneventful, even though the streets only continued to get busier and busier. Whenever she was able to see past anyone’s heads, she could see that they were getting closer and closer to the crooked tower.
“We should look for Hightop,” she said.
“Who?”
“The one who visited St. George’s. He’s supposed to be some well-known wizard who lives here, I think.” She pointed at the tower. “That’s the biggest building. We can probably find him there.”
“Not your worst idea. That’s a very presumptuous-looking building.”
“Thank you.”
She took two steps before the scent of a spiced roast wafted up through the crowd. She bent over in the middle of the street, clutching her stomach. She hadn’t eaten in such a long time. All the hunger she’d been ignoring suddenly stabbed her at once. “Or maybe,” she said, “we can find food and then find Hightop.” She grimaced, looking down.
“Keep up,” she heard the cat say.
She looked up but didn’t see him. He weaved through the crowd much more easily than she could.
“Jasper!” she shouted.
But her voice was swallowed up by the noise.
“Jasper!” she tried again.
Nothing.
She pursed her lips to the side. Looking up, she could see the top of the tower. It didn’t look far.
The scent of the roast returned, and she clutched at her gurgling tummy. Her legs trembled. Okay, no. It’d been too long. She needed food, and she needed it now.
“Sorry, Jasper,” she whispered. “I’ll only be a second.”
The smell led her to a side street next to a place called the Quacking Dragon. Her mouth watered.
The alley’s damp pavement and dilapidated walls felt like a completely different world from the main streets of the city. There were still people walking between these little side streets, of course, but their jackets weren’t as colorful, their shoes were missing buttons, and not all their mouths had a full collection of teeth.
Up ahead, she saw a red-faced gnome sitting at a doorstep. He had beside him a bucket full of flutterwishes. They didn’t look any bigger than the size of someone’s palm. Beautiful white feathers lined their chests, complementing their tiny beaks, and they had their tiny blue wings pinned together with iron clothespins. Milly watched as the gnome sold a flutterwish to a man dressed in a tattered suit.
“And what d’ya wish for, good sir?”
“I wurna be made of money!”
The gnome grinned. “This one’s on the house.”
The man grinned back when the flutterwish was dropped into his open hands, revealing a mouth full of rubies for teeth. He then promptly shoved the entire wish into his mouth.
Milly gagged.
The man leaped into the air and vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving behind nothing but a pile of jewels clattering to the ground. The gnome laughed, clapped his hands together, and got on his knees to pocket the jewels.
Milly tried to walk past as quickly as she could, but the gnome caught sight of her and whistled.
“Hey, girlie! Come here and buy your heart’s desire!”
Milly froze, then turned and stared at the gnome. He didn’t have a long beard like the others, and his face wasn’t as rigid or squared. In fact, from his ears to his belly, everything about him was round.*
“You’re not a gnome.”
“Right you are! Name’s Ned. Ned Culligan. And I’m a gnob!” Getting back on his feet, he stomped his left foot down. “Not many people can tell the difference, but it’s clear as secrets to us gnobs.” He stomped his foot again.
Milly walked closer and looked into the bucket. “Why do you keep their wings pinned?”
“They’re sneaky little rodents. Can’t have them flying away,” Ned said. “Want one?”
She shook her head. “You made that man disappear and stole all his money.”
The gnob laughed, and his round cheeks grew even redder. “Nah, girlie. Tall-legs did that to himself.”
Milly tilted her head and looked down at the flutterwishes. One of them made eye contact with her and started chirping. “What do you mean?”
“You can’t just wish for anything,” he said. “Hey, shut up!” He kicked the bucket to subdue the chirping. “As I was sayings, you gotta wish proper if you want one of these. It’s gotta come from deep, deep down in your heart. Tall-legs wished honest, but stupid. Got what he deserved.” His voice lowered, and he leaned in close. “But you knows what you want, don’t you, girlie? I can smell the hunger off you.”
Milly pulled back. The gnob’s breath was horrible.
What did he mean? Did he know she was hungry, or did he mean hunger in a different way? Maybe she could wish to find Cilla? When she looked back into the bucket, the thought of eating one of the creatures was enough to make her sick.
“No, I don’t want to hurt them.”
Ned shrugged. “Suit yourself; they’re only
flutterwishes.”
Now Milly felt her cheeks flush. Something about seeing the flutterwishes’s wings pinned made her insides burn. She was angry.* And she knew exactly what she wanted.
“Help us.”
Milly’s eyes widened. She could understand them, like she did with the broombranch.
“Can I take one without eating it?”*
His eyebrow bent upward, and a wry smile tugged at his lips. “Now, girlie, what would you want to do that for? They’re useless without their wishes, ya know.”
“No, they’re not,” Milly said.
“Hmm.” He stroked the stubble on his chin, tapped one of the red jewels against his teeth, and counted his fingers twice. “You ain’t got much, have you? But I’m sure you have lots of dreams in your head that are right young and vibrant.”
Milly tried to resist smiling. Little did this gnob know that all her dreams had shriveled up long ago. She forced her mouth into a frown and turned her voice soft and quiet. “Oh, but I can’t give up my dreams, sir.”
“Can’t ya? I’ll give you two flutterwishes for a dream. How ’bout something you wanna be when you grow up? Or a kiss from your first Prince Charming?” He laughed. “Maybe even your first couple Prince Charmings?”
Milly pretended to think long and hard, but really, she was counting how many flutterwishes were left in the bucket. She counted five heads.
“How much for all five?”
“All five!” He laughed so hard he fell backward and hit his head on the door behind him. If it hurt, he didn’t seem to notice. “Little girl, for that you’d have to sell me your own mother.”
“Okay.”
He wiped the corners of his eyes, laughter fading. “I’m not stupid.” His voice grew dark now, and his eyes were tinted with threat. “I know you haven’t got a mother. Maybe you haven’t got anything. Deal’s off. I can find better customers round here.”
“I’m not leaving!” Milly reached forward and grabbed the bucket.
“ ‘Ey!” Ned stood up and gripped the other side of the bucket. “You best let go, girlie.”
Milly stared defiantly and yanked harder.
The bucket cracked between them, and all the flutterwishes fell to the ground.
“Get out of here!” she yelled. “Go on! Run!”
Ned snorted. “They can’t run. And they can’t fly or swim or tunnel away, either. Them’s magick clothespins. Only way to free them’s if I wants to.”
Milly reached for his feet and clung. “Let them go!”
“Gerroff!” The gnob tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t release him. “Off, I says! Why’s it matter to you, anyways? Stop meddling!”
Milly thought back to the giant, then the broombranch, then her sister.
She refused to do nothing.
“No,” she said.
Milly felt a strange power rise from within her chest, and a red flash of light appeared between her fingers. Milly let go, tumbled back, and stared at the light in her hand.
“Y-y-you,” the gnob stuttered. “You’re a witch!”
“No, I’m not.” She continued staring, then jolted up. “I’m not!”
The light remained.
“A witch!” he cried. The gnob tried to back away with the flutterwishes in his arms but tripped over the broken bucket. “Help me! There’s a witch!”
Milly watched the light in her hands, scared of the growing heat. She didn’t know what to do with it, but maybe she could use the gnob’s fear to her advantage.
“Let them go,” she said.
“W-what?”
“Let them go”—she paused—“and don’t tell anyone about me.”
“Don’t make me do that. They’s my livelihood, see? You understand.”
“Please.” Milly raised her fingers. “Let. Them. Go.”
“What’ll you do?” His lips quivered.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “We probably don’t want to find out.”
His red cheeks puffed out like balloons. “Fine! Have ’em!” He tossed them at Milly’s feet. “Us gnobs know when we’s beat!” He stomped his foot. “Just lets me alone!”
Milly nodded and lowered her hand. The light still hadn’t faded. “Y-you should probably leave now.”
“S-s-s-sure thing.” And, just like that, the gnob was gone, slipping and sliding his way from the alley.
Milly kneeled next to the flutterwishes. Their wings were still pinned. She looked at the light and exhaled. “Be free,” she whispered, and pulled at one of the clothespins. It dissolved into the flame.
Her mouth hung open.
Her hand trembled.
“That worked,” she stammered, still not quite believing it.
She moved from one flutterwish to the next, removing each of their shackles one by one. When she was finished, the red light vanished.
“Go on,” she whispered. “You’re free. Get out of here.”
“Thank you, witchling.”
Each of the flutterwishes chirped happily and flew lazy eights around her, teasing her hair and tickling her ears. She laughed as their feathers brushed against her skin.
“We’re so happy you’re here,” they said. “Life has been so much harder without witches.”
“What do you mean?” she said.
But they didn’t answer. Instead, they shot upward and vanished into miniature clouds that had appeared out of thick air.*
She felt quite proud of herself, but also terrified. Milly stared at her hand. There was no more sign of the strange fire. No tingling or unfamiliar residue.
Milly snapped her fingers.
Nothing happened.
She pressed her fingers together to snap again.
Suddenly, two large hands grabbed hold of her—one on her shoulder, the other over her mouth. She tried to scream, but the hand was bigger than her entire head. Whoever it belonged to muffled her voice and pulled her into a wall.
No, not a wall, she realized. A face materialized above her, and she saw it was a small giant.*
“Not safe,” the giant said. “Witches not good. Shadows come. Must hide.”
And with that, the giant picked her up and tossed her into a giant-sized lunch basket. She landed in a half-eaten bowl of salad the size of a bed.
The basket must’ve been big even for the small giant, because he picked it up with both hands and carried it at a crooked angle.
The motion sent Milly slipping deeper into the bowl. She was tangled in a mess of cabbage leaves the size of her body and sliced carrots as big as her legs. Jostled back and forth, she tried to reach up and peek out of the basket. She saw that the giant was carrying her down the alley, away from the tower, toward the outskirts on the other side of the city.
“Hey,” she called out. “We’re going the wrong way!”
“Hush make,” the giant said. “Must hide.”
Milly watched the townscape fly by through a thin crack in the weave, including the sight of a large roast pig being turned over an open fire.
She groaned, remembering her hunger, and dropped back down to the bottom of the basket. Sinking against the wall, she propped herself into place with her feet and tried to nibble on a whole floret of broccoli. She could barely get her teeth around it.
Frustrated, she pushed it to the side, lay down, and curled her arm around her head.
Maybe she shouldn’t have followed her nose.
CHAPTER TEN
dinner with strangers in a house made of puzzles
When the basket hit the ground, Milly fell against a lone cabbage leaf and heard it crunch against her ribs. Tiny shafts of light leaked through the basket. She slipped her fingers into the holes and tried to peek through.
She heard voices. Then smelled feet.
“Horace, what are you hiding
in that basket?”
“Found witchling.”
“Found a what?!”
“Witchling. Girl child. Help hide.”
“And you put her in your basket? My heavens, let her out. She must be suffocating in there.”
The basket tipped wildly, and Milly grabbed for the edges.
“Horace, be careful with her!”
Milly screamed when she tumbled out of the basket, along with the massive veggies, onto someone’s floor. Suffocating darkness surrounded her, and she whirled around to look for any source of light.
A large hand lifted the giant bowl off her head, and a smaller hand appeared in front of her face.
“Hello, dear.”
Milly took the hand and was pulled to her feet. She wobbled for a moment, and the walls around her spun in circles. When she gained her footing, she could see the room she’d fallen into was the living room. Or the bathroom. Or a kitchen?
Actually, it didn’t look like any of those.
And the walls wouldn’t stop spinning.
“Don’t worry. You’re not seeing things—everything here is swirly.” The woman giggled and twirled her finger in a circle.
Eyes adjusting to the light, Milly looked at the person who had helped her up. It was a woman with light-brown skin and short, wispy, bright-pink hair.
No, it was purple.
Now it was blue!
“Welcome to my house. Whole thing’s one big puzzle.” The woman grinned and spread her arms wide. “Like it?”
Milly looked around and realized that the room wasn’t one room at all. It was a dozen rooms, all constantly folding into each other. Some walls ended where the roof began, floors acted as tables, chairs folded into cabinets. The back wall rotated, and a door appeared where a painting had been. The sink collapsed into the floor, replaced by several large cushions.
“How?” Milly said. “How do you tell what’s what?”
“Easy!” the woman said, “Blue’s for kitchen, green’s for bed, purple’s bath, pink’s the workshop, and so on and so forth.”
The Hungry Ghosts Page 8
