The Undercover Witch

by Gina LaManna

  My father looked up from where he was bent over a project, obviously startled. “I wasn’t doing anything,” he said guiltily. “The boom came from outside, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Dad, we have a situation, and we need your help. Dimitrius Frost is after us,” I said. “Meet Fiona, his sister, and this is Detective Beck, my new boyfriend—sort of.” I looked to Beck for confirmation, but he seemed unconcerned about my usage of the term.

  My dad waved stiffly at the detective like he was greeting an alien. Leaning forward, he spoke very slowly, as if talking to a foreigner. “Helllooo,” he said, stretching the word out like a bungee cord. “Hi human, I. Am. Frank.”

  Beck tried to keep a straight face, but he struggled to maintain composure as he extended a hand. “Hi there, Frank. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  My dad, still smiling like he’d won the lottery, turned toward Fiona. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess. I’ve seen your photos.” He reached for her hand and very lightly pressed a kiss to her knuckles as a sign of respect. “I am a former Guardian, and I remain at your service.”

  “Your help is much appreciated.” Her lips tightened into a grateful expression. “My brother is headed here, and he’s looking for me. He’s not happy.”

  “He’s after both of us,” I said. “We’re in this together.”

  Fiona’s smile grew sadly. “I suppose, yes. He will stop at nothing until I’m back in the castle, and Ainsley is dealt with in his own way.”

  Quickly, I filled my father in on everything—the prophecy, the necklaces, the housekeeping position. My mother joined us partway through, her head tilted in my direction as if listening to a bedtime story. Beck did his best to keep up, but his face was as white as Fiona’s by the time I finished.

  “I imagine you’ve secured both necklaces then?” my father asked. “May I see them?”

  She pulled both from her robes, dumping the beautiful gemstones onto the table. “My sister is ready to help, but she’s headed to the Iron Range. We need to make it there before my brother does.”

  “We’d never make it, even if we left immediately,” my father said. “We’ll let Dimitrius come to us here, where we might have an advantage.”

  “But we need both princesses to end his reign,” I told him. “I read the prophecy.”

  “Yes, but we can contain him for now until your sister arrives,” he said, turning to Fiona. “I don’t see another option. We’ll take him alive.”

  “I think that should work,” Fiona said softly. “Thank you.”

  “How long do we have?” Frank asked.

  Fiona nearly floated over to the window, her robes circling her feet like ocean waves. Once there, she held her hand out like a satellite dish. Closing her eyes, she waited until the room was silent. After a minute, she looked up, her eyes filled with nervous adrenaline. “He’s here.”

  Chapter 29

  We scrambled to gather supplies—any extra spells, materials, and incantations that might be helpful. Among the supplies were several curses, an expired fire-breathing hex, and a rolling pin, courtesy of my mother. We weren’t exactly staffed with the best materials, but we’d have to make do.

  Once we were as prepared as possible, the five of us created a circle with our backs to one another. Beck and Fiona flanked both my sides as our breathing slowed collectively and we awaited the Frost King’s first move.

  A boom so loud it rattled the foundation of the house signaled the king’s arrival on our roof.

  “I’m going up,” my father whispered. “Scan the rest of the house. I’m headed through the chimney before he suspects it.”

  Before I could argue, my father moved to the fireplace in the corner, the hearth’s mouth large and wide enough for him to wiggle through. He murmured a Sticking Spell for his fingertips and began his shimmy toward the roof while I offered unhelpful encouragement from below. He’d told me to scan the house, but I wasn’t going to leave him alone.

  His movements were swift and stealthy. A wave of pride hit me as I watched him scale the bricks; I’d always loved watching my father work, whether it be on inventions, a case, a puzzle—it didn’t matter. Everything he did, he did it with gusto. The passion radiated from every inch of his being, and it was infectious.

  Torn out of my reverie by a flash of light, I ducked, not expecting the sudden curse. It came from my father’s fingertips as he threw a hex out the top of the chimney. It didn’t get far before meeting an electric blue spell from above and crackling like lightning.

  Dimitrius must have been waiting, anticipating our next move, and he’d beaten us to the punch. My father crashed back down the chimney. I’d been standing below him, watching, but I stepped out of the way as he fell and shot a Softening Spell at the bottom of the chimney.

  Because everything happened so fast, the attempt was a weak one, and Frank crumpled to the ground. He jolted against the last fingers of the spell, dragging me down with him, and I collapsed to the floor.

  “Frank!” my mother yelled, rushing toward the chimney.

  “Don’t worry about me,” I moaned as she stepped over my head. “I’m fine.”

  While my mother helped my father, Beck pulled me to my feet. Then he looked to Fiona. “What is he going to do next?”

  Fiona looked toward the ceiling, her face pinched in concentration. “He’s going to take away our magic.”

  “How do you know that?” I said, looking around for something, anything.

  “Don’t you feel it?” She held her hands up, the pale skin glowing in the dimly lit attic. “The temperature is dropping. Extreme cold can kill the forces of magic,” she said softly. “It won’t affect me, but all of you will lose the ability to cast any spells in a matter of minutes.”

  The temperature inched colder as she spoke, and I shivered. It could hardly be above freezing.

  My parents stood in the corner, my mother brushing soot off my father’s clothes. To my surprise, my dad looked at Fiona and smiled. “We’re losing our magic, you say?”

  She nodded, biting her lip in apology. “I wish I could do something, but I can’t.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I have an affinity for human weapons,” he said. “Call it a hobby.”

  “Frank!” my mother snapped. “What did I tell you about guns?”

  My father ignored her and spoke to Detective Beck. “Come here, human. You can help distribute these things.”

  Beck pointed at his chest and looked at me. I gave him an affirmative nod. “That’s you.”

  Still shaking his head in disbelief, he followed my father over to a closet tucked into the far wall. When my dad pulled the door open, all of us gasped.

  “Frank!” My mother’s voice was even shriller than before. “How long have you been hiding these?”

  Frank bit his lip in thought, counting to himself. Eventually, he gave up. “Does it matter?”

  “Mom, we can argue later,” I said. “Dad, what are these?”

  My father pulled a weapon off the wall and announced it as some sort of laser gun before handing it to my mother. He handed me a sword as long as my leg, and Beck a grenade.

  “I think I got the short end of the stick,” I said, looking enviously at Beck’s weapon. “Mine is way heavier than his.”

  “Trade with the human,” my dad said. “He probably has a gun, anyway. Princess, can I get you anything?”

  Fiona declined any weapon, gesturing to her hands. “I can handle the cold.”

  A series of popping sounds had us diving to the ground. “It’s just the lights,” I finally called, feeling the broken glass on the floor as the room catapulted into darkness. “The cold shattered the bulbs.”

  “Let’s spread out,” my dad whispered. “Your mother and I will take the ground level. The three of you stay up here. Stick together, got it?”

  They disappeared, leaving the Princess, the detective, and me alone upstairs.

  After a moment of silence, Fiona spoke
. “He wants me,” she said softly. “I should never have let you both come with me. I meant to leave you as soon as I could, Ainsley. I’m sorry it’s come to this.”

  “No apology necessary,” I said. “I stuck my nose in your business. Now, Fiona, how does your brother do with fire?”

  “He hates it,” she said. “Can’t stand it, but it’s too cold to use your magic.”

  To check, I muttered a Chimney Charm, a simple spell normally used to light birthday candles. Nothing.

  “See?” she said. “Useless.”

  “But I’m not useless,” Beck said, pulling something from his pocket. “Human to the rescue.”

  “What do those do?” Fiona asked, looking at the tiny sticks in a box. “They look like little lollipops.”

  “It’s a matchbook,” he said. “Never used one?”

  She shook her head.

  “Watch.” He scraped one little lollipop against the sandpaper on the back of the box. A small flame sparked to life, grew brighter, and then died.

  “That’s perfect,” she breathed.

  He frowned, but didn’t comment.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” I said, formulating a plan on the spot. “Listen closely.”

  Chapter 30

  A few minutes later and many degrees colder, I’d outlined a plan. The others had agreed to it somewhat reluctantly, and as the windows had cracked and shattered from the frigid temperatures, they’d been forced to agree it was the only way to move forward.

  After scaling the bricks, I crouched near the top of the chimney in the same place my father had been, except this time, we didn’t have the use of magic on our side. However, I did have the grenade.

  I held the weapon tight in my hand, waiting for the agreed upon signal from below. Fiona and Beck waited at the bottom of the chimney, shoving all the wood, newspapers, and gasoline that we could find into the hearth. I’d brought a jar of gasoline with me and dumped it down the sides of the bricks.

  Finally, Fiona gestured for me to let the grenade fly. I pulled the pin, brought my arm back, and launched the thing as far as it would go. Then I waited, huddled in the chimney, until I heard the explosion on the far side of the roof.

  The boom was huge. It must have torn half the roof off of our house while simultaneously sending a ball of fire into the sky. That was my cue to move.

  I leapt over the top of the chimney and landed in a crouch on the roof, scanning the space for the intruder. Dropping a match behind me, I hunkered down as flames soared through the mouth of the bricks and took the roof by storm.

  Dodging the rising flames that were growing from every surface, I sprinted toward the edge of the house, dragging a trail of gasoline behind me as a shield. Beyond the wall of fire stumbled Dimitrius, his eyes taking a second longer than usual to focus due to the sudden brightness in the otherwise black night.

  The fire grew to a raging inferno as he gathered his bearings.

  Now, I only had to wait—and stay alive.

  Beck and Fiona would be grabbing my parents by now, hustling them toward the backyard where my dad’s flying boat, Blimpy, sat halfway covered in our garage.

  The Frost King hurled an icicle as thick as a telephone pole in my direction. I threw myself against the roof, skidding toward the gutter as the deadly spear sailed over me, just barely nicking my foot.

  “Hurry, Dad,” I shouted, catching sight of him hustling my mother into the boat. “Fly!”

  Another icicle rolled through the flames, this one big and thick and gathering speed like a snowball as it hurtled toward me. I screamed again, this time leaping over it just in time to watch it drop off the roof and crush a small tree.

  Then, I saw it. The corner of the boat. Unfortunately, it wasn’t invisible. Invisibility Incantations required absolute mental concentration; when I flew on my broomstick, it took significant energy to keep the spell alive for just one person. Even the shortest of blips in concentration would cause my cover to be blown.

  Something the size of my dad’s boat would require a highly skilled cloaking spell which we had not yet devised. Therefore, we only flew Blimpy at night so it couldn’t be seen from the ground.

  Dimitrius walked toward me, raising his hands as he approached. His white, almost silver hair was even more brilliantly pale than usual, highlighted by the stars. The king’s lips were moving, which couldn’t be good. He was preparing his final strike.

  “Dad!” The fire tore at my clothes, the heat battling the chill in the air. “Now!”

  Frank directed the boat toward the roof of our house as I took a few steps back, closer to the ledge. The ball of magic in Dimitrius’s hands grew brighter, more dangerous, and if I didn’t get off that roof in a few seconds, it’d be over.

  “Ainsley, wait,” Frank said. “We’re too far! One more minute!”

  “I don’t have a minute,” I muttered, saving my breath as I began a sprint toward the edge of the roof.

  At the same time, the Frost King raised his fist and sent a bolt of lightning to the sky. As the crack of lightning hurtled back toward earth, toward me, I took my last step on firm ground and flew through the air, pin-wheeling as the magic cracked the roof in two.

  My arms were outstretched, reaching hungrily at the dangling rope ladder my father had dropped over the side. I was almost there, just another inch…

  My body jerked to a stop midair, as if I’d been hit by a car. I was suspended in the sky, my body frozen into a position of free fall. The cold seeped into my veins, froze my mind, and destroyed my ability to speak.

  When I stopped falling, I could no longer move. I couldn’t wiggle my fingers, flex my toes, or even sneeze. I couldn’t blink, couldn’t beg, couldn’t cry. I could only stare at the face looming over me.

  Beck’s eyes met mine then, and all the questions in the world passed through his gaze. He reached an arm toward me, leaning over the edge of the flying boat, but it was a futile effort. We were too far apart.

  “Good try, Ainsley,” said the Frost King coolly, drawing my attention back to him. “But not good enough.”

  Then he raised a hand and dragged it lightly over my face, the crackle of magic bringing my world to black.

  Chapter 31

  The pain hit before I opened my eyes. Sucking in a breath, a desperate plea for air, I was rewarded with a gulp of oxygen. Even as I swallowed, gasping for more, the freezing particles burned my throat.

  Forcing my eyes open, I blinked a few times before recognizing the familiar ceiling. The wooden walls, the tables lined with my father’s inventions, the dress-up station in the corner—we were inside the treehouse.

  “Too cold?” The Frost King looked at me, his eyes a mournful shade of blue, though the emotion didn’t extend past the mask on his face. He moved with a twitchiness that belied his disappointment for catching me, and not his sister.

  Breathing was difficult at this temperature, like inhaling a pile of snow, as if every particle of oxygen was crystallized. “Why are you keeping me alive?”

  “Fortunately for me, your family happens to be loyal.” He moved to the edge of the treehouse and stared outside into the blackness. A fur overcoat hung down to his knees, and a cap covered his head. His hands, however, were free of mittens, as though his clothing was merely for show, and not at all for warmth. “Unlike mine. If you’re alive, they’ll come back for you, and if they’re smart, they’ll bring my sister with them.”

  I took stock of my position as he lapsed into thoughtful silence. I lay on the floor, stiff. Likely the king had used some sort of immobilizing charm on me. “What do you expect to do, keep her locked away for eternity?”

  “I’m keeping her safe.”

  “I read the prophecy,” I said, testing to see his reaction. “I know there’s no way for one sibling to defeat the others. You can’t get rid of the Ice Princess because you’d need the Fire Princess to cooperate with you, and she refuses.”

  “There is no such prophecy.” He turned to me, t
he blaze in his eyes telling me that he believed the words coming out of his mouth. “That’s a foolish old wives’ tale. I’m keeping her alive because she is my own blood.”

  “Then why did you murder your own father? Greed? Hunger for power?”

  His lips, thin lines stretched across pale skin, tightened. The ensuing silence was more frightening than any word he could have said, and I worried I’d pushed him too far.

  “Don’t you dare pretend to know the slightest thing about the Frost Clan,” he said. “I did what was best for our people.”

  “Your sisters don’t agree.”

  “My sisters don’t know what’s best for them.”

  “They’re going to put an end to this, you know,” I said. “It says so in The Storybook.”

  “It cannot be. The Storybook does not predict the future.”

  “No, but…” I trailed off, a sudden realization striking me then. Maybe, possibly, the reason The Storybook shorted out on us was due to the cycle of history being broken. That would fit with the prophecy’s predictions. For years and years and years, Frost Kings had passed the throne on willingly to their sons, and it should have continued in this way, but a murder had prevented it, thrown the balance off its axis.

  “When you stole the throne from your father, you caused it to malfunction,” I said. Whether or not my theory was correct, I could use it to my advantage. Already, his eyes narrowed as I continued, uncertainty brewing in his gaze. “You broke the cycle of history, and now it must be set right.”

  He laughed. “I have no children. How will it be set right?”

  “Your sisters will fulfill the prophecy,” I said. “When two of the three royal siblings band together, they may defeat the other.”

  “Is that right?” Raising both of his hands, he stuck his head through the doorway. “If this is true, then where are they? Fiona is with your family, cowering in the skies. Margot hasn’t been seen for months. How do they plan to take me down while in hiding?”

  While he scanned the nearby skies, I replayed the prophecy in my head, listening to each and every word as it passed through my memory. When I reached the part I’d been struggling to recall, I closed my eyes and concentrated on each word.