Was it my imagination, or had it moved towards me …?
Charlie jumped up and sniffed around the book’s metal edges – but, straight away, he started hissing and spitting and going mental. I looked at the silver letters on the book’s cover.
‘Ancient Evil: Spells for All Occasions,’ I read.
Great. A magic book. And not just any old magic book – an evil magic book. It was plain that this was where all Grizz’s stupid recipes and potions came from.
I opened Ancient Evil in the middle, and started reading.
Broomstick Potion
At dead of night, dig up three weeds,
Combine with blood and river reeds,
Add beetle brain and lizard jaw,
Add snotflakes, wee and one rat’s paw;
Paint your bot with all this mix
To give some speed to your broomsticks!
‘Paint your bot?’ I said. ‘That’s just plain disgusting.’
I turned the pages. What a load of rubbish! Witchcraft – ha! As if anyone in the twenty-first century was going to fall for that!
‘Watch me, Charlie,’ I said.
I started to cackle and rub my hands together, just like a real witch. Charlie’s round eyes went rounder. I picked up the heavy book and walked around with it, reading aloud another spell in my best cracked, witchy voice:
‘To see what kind of witch you are,
Stand inside a pointed star.
Read this spell out loud and clear,
Making sure no humans hear;
If you feel the shaking earth,
It means you’ve been a witch since birth!’
I looked down at Charlie and laughed. We had wandered inside one of the chalk stars on the floor, so I raised my foot to step out – and then I felt it.
A burning sensation started in the soles of my feet, and worked its way up into my whole body.
‘Whoah!’ I shouted. ‘What’s happening?’
An electric shock shot through me. I screamed and looked down.
The ground beneath me had started to move!
Charlie yowled and leapt onto my leg, as the floor began to shake more and more violently. The floor churned up and down, and glass bottles crashed from the shelves to the ground.
‘Charlie!’ I shouted. ‘Get out! Get out of the star!’
I dropped the book and stumbled out of the star, with Charlie still digging his claws into my leg. Instantly, the ground stopped shaking.
But I didn’t. Not for a long, long time.
4
MEETING MARY
By the time Wormella came and rescued me from the cellar, I had just about recovered from the shock of what had happened.
I spent the whole sleepless night turning it all over in my mind. Was this loony bin sending me crazy – or was I, Anna Kelly, a real, live, witch, like the spell said? And if I was a witch, could I do magic spells?
Soon a plan started to take shape in my brain.
The next morning, I sneaked back into the cellar and ripped out some pages from Ancient Evil. I went into the garden where I was supposed to be collecting nettles and snail slime in a bucket. But, instead, I was secretly looking at the pages I’d stolen.
Maybe I could make one of these evil potions, and give Grizz and Wormella a taste of their own medicine!
‘Hello!’ said a cheerful voice.
I jumped and spun around. A face was peering over the back fence. It was the blonde girl from up the road!
She smiled and I smiled back at her.
‘Do you live here?’ she said. ‘Or are you just visiting?’
‘I live here, unfortunately,’ I said. ‘The two mad old witches took me from a children’s home so I could do all their dirty work …’
The girl giggled. She obviously thought I was joking.
‘You’re funny!’ she said. ‘My name’s Mary. What’s yours?’
‘Anna,’ I said. ‘Where do you live?’
‘Down the road,’ said Mary. ‘You should come over and play sometime.’
‘I’d love to,’ I said. ‘But, somehow, I don’t think I’ll be allowed.’
Mary looked me up and down.
‘Is that your school uniform?’ she asked.
‘No!’ I said. ‘What kind of school would have an all-black uniform?’
We both looked at my witchy black dress and pointy boots and burst out laughing.
‘Where do you go to school anyway?’ asked Mary.
‘I don’t,’ I mumbled.
‘You don’t go to school?’ said Mary, shocked. ‘How come?’
‘I’m not allowed,’ I said.
‘I go to St Munchin’s,’ said Mary. ‘It’s so much fun. You should get your aunts to send you there! We might be in the same class … Ooops!’
Without warning, Mary dropped to her knees behind the fence.
‘You, girl!’ shouted a sharp voice from behind me. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
I turned. Grizz was striding across the garden.
‘Who were you talking to?’ she said.
‘No one,’ I said. Mary didn’t need to get in trouble as well. I was in enough for both of us.
Grizz looked over the fence. Mary was nowhere to be seen.
‘Get back to work instantly,’ said Grizz.
I put on my gloves and grabbed my bucket of nettles.
‘You wait and see, Grizz!’ I said. ‘I’m going to go to school, and make friends, and have normal life!’
‘Over my dead body!’ shouted Grizz.
‘Don’t tempt me!’ I muttered, as my hand curled around the pages of spells in my pocket.
5
THE FIRST SPELL
That night, my dreams were full of St Munchin’s. Mary and I were walking to school together, wearing beautiful, blue St Munchin’s uniforms…
And then I was in a large hall, accepting a prize on prize day. People were applauding and shaking me by the hand until it felt it might drop off, but still they were shaking and shaking and shaking …
I opened one eye. Grizz’s thin face was pushed close to mine and she was shaking my shoulder.
‘Wakey, wakey,’ she growled.
Outside the attic window, the first streaks of light were showing above the chimneys. She had to be kidding.
‘It’s only just dawn!’ I said.
‘So?’ said Grizz. ‘Get up. There’s work for ungrateful girls to do. It may not be schoolwork,’ she said, curling her top lip, ‘But it’s good enough for the likes of you.’
Grizz stamped out of the attic and down the stairs. I knew she’d be back in five minutes in a raging temper, so I groaned and struggled out of bed.
Down in the kitchen, the cauldron was already on the boil. Charlie was sitting on the windowsill, washing his face.
‘Hello, boy,’ I said, reaching out to tickle Charlie’s ears.
‘Leave him alone and get on with your work!’ said Grizz, slapping my hand away. ‘I want baked toad for lunch. And I want a potion for killing next door’s flowers.’
‘Next door’s flowers?’ I said, rubbing my hand. ‘But why? They’re about the only pretty thing in this street.’
‘That’s why,’ said Grizz. ‘Now. Chop these earwigs and mix them with some granny’s toenails, cow dung …’
I stopped listening. I was thinking of my plan.
‘Wormella,’ said Grizz. ‘Where’s The Book?’
‘In the cellar, dear,’ replied Wormella.
Grizz gave Wormella a hard look.
‘Sorry, dear,’ said Wormella, ‘I meant the lab.’
Grizz bustled off downstairs, muttering. Wormella followed, leaving Charlie and me alone in the kitchen.
I whipped out the crumpled pages I had hidden in my apron since yesterday. I flicked through them until I came to one that said ‘Sleeping Potion’.
‘That’s the one,’ I said.
Sleeping Potion
To make a sleeping potion strong,
Pull t
hirteen hairs, both brown and long,
Add juice of slug, and brokee rocks,
And nightshade root, and poo of fox.
Into a drink, the mixture seep,
To make the victim go to sleep.
From the windowsill, Charlie realised what I was up to, and sat up straight, like a bookend. His eyes widened, and he watched my every move.
‘Don’t panic, Charlie,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to kill anyone – not today, at least. I bet it doesn’t even work, anyway!’
I ran my finger along the kitchen shelves.
‘Now, what do we need? Slug juice and broken rocks …’
‘What was that, dear?’ said Wormella, wandering back into the room.
I nearly dropped dead on the spot. She scared the life out of me, creeping around like that.
‘I was just saying, Aunt,’ I said, ‘That we’re low on slug juice.’
‘Well spotted, dear!’ said Wormella. ‘You see! You’re getting the hang of witchcraft, after all!’
‘Actually,’ I snapped. ‘I don’t want to get the hang of it!’
Wormella ignored me. She gave the cauldron a half-hearted stir and drifted into the garden.
‘That was close,
Charlie,’ I said. ‘I’ll have to be quick before she comes back. Go and keep watch.’
Charlie leapt from the windowsill and sat in the back doorway. I poured the slug juice into a jug and mixed it with the broken rocks. I got down a jar of nightshade root and grated some into the jug. Then I held my nose as I mashed in a dried lump of fox poo.
‘We’d better be careful with this,’ I muttered. ‘It is poisonous, after all – and we don’t want to kill them off completely, do we? What’s next?’
Charlie slid his eyes away from the garden and stared hard at my straight, brown hair.
I groaned.
‘Oh, yeah, I forgot. Why does it have to be thirteen hairs?’ I said. ‘Why couldn’t it be just one or two?’
I tugged at my head. By the time I had pulled out thirteen hairs, I was half-bald and nearly crying. But I mixed the hair into the rest of the potion, and chanted the rhyme out loud as I stirred.
Charlie miaowed sharply. I hid the jug behind a cactus plant just as Wormella returned to the kitchen.
For the rest of that morning, I slaved away in the steamy kitchen, chopping, cooking and cleaning. At one o’clock, a bell rang in the dining room.
‘Where’s our lunch?’ shouted Grizz.
‘It’s coming!’ I shouted back through gritted teeth. I balanced two plates of baked toad on my arm and glided into the dining room.
‘About time. Tuck in, Wormella,’ said Grizz.
Wormella viewed the steaming plate of toad in front of her with distaste. She wrinkled her nose.
‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘I seem to have lost my appetite.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ I said. Who was Wormella trying to kid? I’d seen her chomping on a cheeseburger earlier in the week when Grizz’s back was turned.
‘Silence, girl! Bring us some drinks,’ said Grizz. She turned to her sister. ‘How about some nettle wine, Wormella?’
Wormella cheered up instantly, and I hurried back into the kitchen.
‘Now’s my chance, Charlie!’ I said. ‘Charlie?’
That dopey moggy was lying on the worktop, snoring his furry head off. His paw was in the jug of sleeping potion, and there were traces of potion on his whiskers.
My mouth fell open. The potion had worked! I was really getting the hang of this witchy thing. Now all I had to do was get the potion into the aunts.
‘Thanks, Charlie,’ I said. ‘But maybe you should keep your greedy snout out of it next time!’
I poured what was left of the potion into two wine glasses and topped them up with nettle wine. My hands were shaking all the while.
‘Here we are, Aunts!’ I said, as I placed the glasses in front of Grizz and Wormella. ‘Two nettle wines!’
Grizz looked at me out of the corner of her eye. ‘What are you so chirpy about?’ she said. ‘Get back to the kitchen and start clearing up. We’ll ring when we need you.’
For five minutes, I paced up and down the kitchen as Charlie dozed. Then, I heard strange sounds coming from the dining room. I pressed my ear against the door.
‘Fnagh, fnagh, fnagh,’ snored one aunt.
‘Hrumpphh, hrumpphh, hrumpphh,’ snored the other.
I opened the door. Grizz was face down in the remains of her baked toad, and Wormella was lolling in her chair with drool dripping off her chin.
Yes! I shook my fist at them. Then I flung my stupid, pointy hat into a corner, and raced out of the dark house into the sunny street.
6
ST MUNCHIN’S
Five minutes later, I was standing in front of St Munchin’s, I could hear my heart banging like a drum inside my tatty black dress. But it was too late to turn back now. I slipped through the iron gates, skirted around the playground and peeped through some classroom windows.
After a while I spotted Mary. She was one of about ten girls playing indoor football. She was dribbling the ball; she was taking aim – she’d scored! All her friends jumped on her as a frizzy-haired teacher blew the whistle.
‘Well done, girls!’ she shouted.
I leaned my head against the window frame and sniffed. Why wasn’t I having fun with all these other kids, instead of pulling my hair out in a witch’s kitchen? It wasn’t fair.
‘Break-time!’ called the teacher. ‘Off you go!’
Most of the girls streamed out of the class – but Mary spotted me and waved. She came over to the classroom window and opened it.
‘Hi, Anna!’ she said. ‘You managed to get away, then?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘It wasn’t easy. I had to knock out my aunts.’
Mary put both hands over her mouth and giggled. She still didn’t believe me.
I peeped over her shoulder at the teacher.
‘Won’t she mind you talking to me?’ I asked.
‘Who, Miss Roland?’ said Mary. ‘No. She’s cool – like most of the teachers here. The only one I’m a bit scared of is the head teacher, Mrs Winkle.’
Miss Roland came over to the window.
‘Well, Mary,’ she said. ‘Who’s your friend?’
‘This is Anna, Miss,’ said Mary. ‘She lives on my road.’ Mary shot me a sidelong glance. ‘She wants to join St Munchin’s.’
I chewed my lip and fiddled with the frayed sleeve of my black dress. I knew I wasn’t making much of a first impression.
‘Do you, Anna?’ said Miss Roland to me.
‘Yes, Miss,’ I said.
‘How very sensible,’ said Miss Roland. ‘But, somehow, I don’t think you’ll manage it by hanging around outside the window!’
She smiled, showing two deep dimples in her cheeks. I relaxed a little bit.
‘Why don’t you come in and have a look around,’ she said. ‘Mary can show you her classroom.’
‘Yes, Miss,’ said Mary. She beckoned me through a side door.
As we walked down the corridor, I noticed that the walls were covered with pictures. There were bright notices flapping on boards.
‘What are all those about?’ I asked.
‘They’re activities,’ said Mary. ‘There’s after-school swimming, choir, canoe lessons – there’s even classes for adults.’
We slipped into a classroom that said 4B on the door.
‘Ooooh!’ I whispered, and I looked around. The place was covered with books, coloured paints, maps and toys – everything that was missing from my life at Crag Road.
I could really picture myself here, sitting on top of one of the desks, laughing and talking with the other girls …
‘Hello, girls!’ boomed a voice behind us.
Mary and I both jumped out of our skin. We turned around. A large, white-haired lady in a blue suit was standing in the doorway.
Mary’s eyes opened wide.
‘Mrs Winkle!�
�� she whispered.
Mrs Winkle peered at me over tiny glasses. Her blue eyes seemed to bore into me, as if they could see into my soul. I got fidgety.
‘I think I’ll be off now,’ I said. ‘Things to do.’
‘Please don’t go, Anna,’ said Mrs Winkle. ‘It’s not every day we get young people turning up wanting to join our school!’
I looked at Mary.
‘How did she know that?’ I whispered. Mary shrugged.
Mrs Winkle smiled. Her eyes glinted again.
‘Not a lot goes on at St Munchin’s that I don’t know about,’ she said. She held the classroom door open. ‘Will you come to my office, please? Mary, you can go.’
I gulped. I wasn’t sure I was ready for this interview.
‘Bye, Mary,’ I mumbled, as I followed Mrs Winkle down the corridor.
‘Good luck,’ whispered Mary.
I trailed after Mrs Winkle down the long corridor.
‘I’m sorry, Miss,’ I said, as soon as I was inside Mrs Winkle’s office. ‘I didn’t mean to barge in and disturb everyone.’
‘I don’t blame you for wanting to join our school, dear,’ said Mrs Winkle, sitting down behind her desk. ‘But, you know, this is an unusual way to go about it.’
‘Trust me, Miss,’ I said. ‘I’m an unusual child.’
Mrs Winkle shook with silent laughter. She pulled a blue pen out of her bun and opened a register.
‘Let’s get some background,’ she said. ‘Where do you live, Anna?’
‘Number 13 Crag Road,’ I said.
Mrs Winkle scribbled down this information.
‘And with whom do you live?’
‘I live with Grizz and Wormella Mint, my two adopted aunts.’
‘Their occupation?’ she said.
This was the part I’d been dreading.
‘They’re witches, Miss,’ I said. ‘Or at least they think they are.’
Mrs Winkle’s head shot up and her eyes bored into me. Her smile had vanished and her face was deadly serious. I could suddenly see why Mary was a bit scared of her.
The Witch Apprentice Page 2
