Almost Magic

by Kathleen Bullock

  Corny thought it over. “If we need her, I can transport her instantly. For now, I want her to stay in the library and protect Marsh and his sister while we patrol. That’s important, too.”

  All of a sudden I understood with a tiny thrill that Corny wasn’t coddling or dismissing me; she was entrusting me with a worthwhile duty. One that she would do herself if she could. I stood straighter. “Wanda and I will protect Dad, Posey, and Marsh with our lives! If he shows up, I’ll send a silent alarm—and we can do that ‘tri’ thing.”

  Reynard Grey had taught me a few defensive tricks. I knew how to disarm an opponent by aiming a magical stream at the soft tissue between the fingers. I knew how to trip someone with a magical lasso around their ankles. I was even good at gut punches, and I didn’t need magic for that. I just hoped the evil Azelbomb would stand still long enough to let me try.

  Corny hesitated. Doubt and indecision distorted her features. “Fine. Fine, but Apple, send a signal immediately if anything—anything—even the slightest bit unusual happens.”

  “Aye-aye, Captain.”

  Corny swirled her wand in a figure-eight above her head and I found myself back in the library. I landed on both feet, wobbled a little, and tried to focus. The library looked just like it had before. Poor Dad still stood paralyzed, petrified, and frozen solid. Even though it was summer outside, I shivered and my breath ballooned in the freezing room. Marsh had left his hiding place behind the grandfather clock in the corner. I hoped he wasn’t prowling around on his own.

  “Posey,” I whispered. “If you’re still here, knock once, but don’t come out.”

  A tiny rap sounded and I nodded, satisfied. “Stay put,” I cautioned.

  It was so cold, my bones rattled. Did I dare make a fire? I suspected that Azelbomb had made the room arctic-like to keep my dad from melting. There were logs laid in the fireplace. A blazing fire was what we needed! I kicked a path through the debris, piled on kindling willy-nilly, and tossed in a match. Waiting for the kindling to ignite was always an anxious time.

  Suddenly, I had one of those icky-sicky feelings that signaled danger. Something threatening was headed my way. I hopped behind the grandfather clock (it was closest) and held my breath. If only I could make myself invisible. But that kind of magic was very challenging. Even Corny hadn’t mastered it yet.

  A sound, like the hissing suction of the ocean before the big waves crashed, raised the little hairs on the nape of my neck. “Uh oh,” I breathed. “This is it, Wanda, send the signal.”

  Instantly, Corny appeared in one corner and Bob in the other. They looked around the room and saw a frozen Grizzwald, a sputtering fire, an unbelievable mess—and nothing more.

  I stepped away from my hiding place. Darn! I couldn’t be wrong! I knew I’d heard something sinister; waves of evil had slithered around me.

  “You called, we came,” my sister said. “Where is he?”

  “I heard a noise. Really I did.”

  We all held our breaths and listened. The only sound was the clock ticking away the minutes. Finally Bob spoke. “False alarm?”

  “Looks like it.”

  My face burned. “Sorry.”

  Rolling her eyes, Corny snapped back to her post.

  Bob flashed me a grin. “Don’t worry, teeny witchy. You did right. Stay alert. Say the word, and we’ll come running to your aid again.” Then he was gone, too.

  “Apollonia Bramblewood,” I told myself, “you’re hopeless.” I slumped and let Wanda slap against my thigh. A little harder than expected, but I ignored the sting.

  The atmosphere inside the room grew oppressive again. Nothing had changed. I still had a queasy feeling. This time, I imagined a rattlesnake shifting over sand, his forked tongue and hypnotic eyes seeking me out. My goose bumps got goose bumps.

  Azelbomb’s mocking voice rippled across the empty room. “You make me laugh, teensy weensy witchy. Stay alert? Ha, ha, ha. How amusing. You and your friends are nothing but children. You’ll never have power enough to defeat the Mighty Azelbomb, future Master of the Universe.”

  My nostrils flared. Future Master of the Universe now? His boastful words made me even angrier than I was afraid. I lifted Wanda and gasped. Once again, I was too late. I hadn’t even noticed when she’d vanished. The Sorcerer was quick. And I was a dork.

  “Where are you?” I shouted, angrier than ever before. “Where is my mother?”

  “Hanging. Around.”

  I gulped as the Wizard shimmered into view. Grody Gremlins! I couldn’t believe my eyes. The Mighty Azelbomb had a new look. He’d transformed himself from a Merlin-type character into a comic book Hell’s Angel. Gone were the robes and the peaked hat. Gone was the long gray beard. Instead, bald and cocky with a bushy black mustache, he strutted about in leather boots and jeans, a sleeveless vest, big belly, chinking chains, and other biker jewelry. Tattooed images of tiny dragons cavorted up one arm, across his bare chest, and down the other. Herkimer P. Azelbomb was awfully fast at adopting the cruder fashions of the twenty-first century.

  He leaned arrogantly against the frozen megalith (think Stonehenge) that encased my father and fiddled with something around his throat.

  I felt the blood drain from my head. I couldn’t breathe. Azelbomb wore the Nebbula necklace.

  “C-Corny! B-Bob! Come!”

  “Oh, don’t waste your breath, chickadee. Mercifully, the others never knew what hit them.”

  It felt as if someone had just kicked me in the kidney. Past despair, and plunging fast, I was alone. The better wizards had all fallen. I alone was left to witness the total destruction of my home and family and possibly the entire world. I knew of only one thing more powerful than the Nebbula necklace—the Mighty Apex’s Magic Eye—but that was very far away.

  “That necklace belongs to me. In case you didn’t know.”

  “I noted that in your journal, I just didn’t think it was relevant. What is it that the Ordinaries say? We called them peons in my day, by the way. Oh, yes—possession is nine-tenths of the law.” Azelbomb stroked the stones with one hand, his moustache with the other.

  “We’ve been here all along, by the way, practically right from the start, watching you chickies run in circles, getting all excited and panicky. Prying the Nebbula’s hiding place from your mother’s mind was not easy. I was forced by extreme need to show her an image of a possible future—the disemboweled bodies of her precious children—and she capitulated instantly. Not that I would actually do such a vile thing—not unless it was really, really necessary. The first thing I did do was to close that damn rift. Useless objects kept slamming my head. I’m never going back to the fourteenth century. It was a time when brainless numbskulls ridiculed my talents, ambitions, and foresight.”

  He sauntered to the window, opened it and whistled. “Come to Papa.” The five razorbacks flew in and shrank as they took their places on his tattooed skin. “My bodyguards.” He grinned and patted his chest.

  I couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore. “Why are you still here? You got what you wanted. Let my family go. You don’t need us anymore.” I wondered if it would do any good to beg on my knees.

  The Sorcerer spread his arms wide and looked at his tattoos. “Actually, there is one thing more I need from you and you alone, Attractor. Number twenty-one. Threes and sevens are mystic numbers. Three times seven—twenty-one. Get it?”

  “I’m not that good at math,” I said, staring him in the eyes.

  He stabbed his finger at the painting over the mantle and snarled. “I want my dragon!”

  Oh, no. Not Watermelon. Never. “Go and get him, then.” I crossed my arms. “He’ll never go with you, no matter what magic you have.” Tears gushed over my cheeks, but I held eye contact and stiffened my spine.

  “You know I can’t do that, chickadee. Since I stole the necklace, I’m not its rightful owner! The Nebbula can’t protect me in an alternate dimension, nor can it break the bond you forged with the creature. You will go in and f
etch him. Or else.” He pointed up.

  Magdella Bramblewood, my mother, bound and gagged, had been flattened like a pancake and pinned against the high smoky ceiling as if she were a life-sized poster. Her beautiful cinnamon-brown eyes pleaded with me. But pleaded for what?

  At that moment, I knew what I had to do: whatever the Sorcerer wanted.

  The Fifth Dimension was beautiful, but eerily quiet. I blinked at the stillness. It lacked the pervasive hum of life that largely went unnoticed on Earth. There was no sign of Watermelon. He could have been anywhere. I turned to scan the southern horizon. Hanging in the eternally blue sky, overlooking the ever-placid lake, was an enormous rectangular hole that offered a view of our library.

  Azelbomb’s gigantic face appeared in the hole, and I assumed I looked very tiny to him. He leered. “Go on, honeybun, get the dragon. I can’t wait all day. I have things to do, people to terrorize—I’m on a very tight schedule.”

  He pulled someone into the frame with him—Posey, her face puckered in fright.

  I ran for the edge of the forest and hid behind the brush to think. I couldn’t just give the dragon to him. There had to be another way to save the others. Even if I wanted to, I didn’t know how to undo one of the most ancient and unbreakable connections in the Wizarding world, the one between a witch and her familiar. That’s what Watermelon became when I dropped my hair into his formula. Besides that, Azelbomb still had my wand.

  In the library, the monster demonstrated his impatience by throwing daggers over his head. “Oops, that one landed just a little close to Mom’s throat for your comfort, chickie. Better hurry and find that dragon.”

  I cringed. All right. All right! I’d find Watermelon and try to unbind him. Unable to stop myself, I began to sob. When I handed him over, would Watermelon evolve into an unthinking, walking flamethrower? Would he scorch the Earth at the command of his new master? Or would he break free and return to Trickle Creek, his real home?

  Watermelon’s head popped out of the lake with a plump trout in his mouth. Delighted to see me, he splashed out of the water and dropped it at my feet. How big he’d grown, and how handsome! I threw my arms around his neck and held tight. His warm breath steamed against my cheek.

  I explained as simply as possible what he had to do. I don’t speak dragon, so I don’t know if he understood, but he paid attention. Nevertheless, his horrific roar at the sight of Azelbomb’s face in the sky showed his terror more than mere words.

  “I make you this one true promise,” I whispered. “Wherever you go, whatever happens, if I survive, I will find you.”

  I led the reluctant dragon to the beach, kept my hand on his side, and waited for Azelbomb to magic us back to the library.

  “Nicely done,” he smirked.

  When Watermelon materialized next to Herkimer P. Azelbomb, Alchemist, Sorcerer, and Dragonmaster Supreme, he flew into a panic. The flapping of his wings caused a blizzard of papers, books, and missile-like objects to fly around the room.

  Azelbomb stopped him with a wave of his hand. “None of that, little one—none of that. I have saved the place of honor for you—right here.” He touched his forehead and Watermelon instantly transformed into a tattoo, wings outspread above the Sorcerer’s eyebrows.

  Azelbomb held out his right arm. “Eena, mea, mona, mite—today I chose you, Geddon, to be my squadron leader.” He touched the fourth dragon’s image. The tattooed creature emerged and enlarged. With a wingspan the width of the room and a smoking snout, he pranced and clawed the floor like a wild purple stallion.

  “You, Dragon Geddon,” Azelbomb purred. “You will lead our first assault against the citadels of power on Earth and any wayward wizards who might be foolish enough to oppose us. Do it well, and you will be rewarded.” The sorcerer climbed upon the dragon’s back. “Hie and away, my pretty hatchling!”

  Sailing through the window, the gorgeous dragon and its master disappeared against a lavender sky.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Posey lay crumpled on the floor.

  “Get my crutch,” she asked. “And don’t look so worried, I’m fine. Well, as fine as one can be when manhandled by an Evil Mage.”

  “How can you be so calm?” I was more than just worried, I was livid.

  Posey crawled over and gripped my shoulder. “Don’t be misled by my awesome self-control, I’m a bundle of nerves. I think I might even throw up. Got a barf bag?” The girl sniffled, then cocked her head and forced a grin. “I really need my Gran. And Marsh. He’s completely vanished.”

  I stomped around like a caged animal. “That Azelbomb! He’s inhuman! He’s criminal! He’s cruel. He’s…he’s…”

  “Really bad at giving speeches?”

  “He’s ALL-POWERFUL!” I looked at Posey. “Be afraid. Without my wand, I’m just as helpless as you are.” I reconsidered and studied my steely-nerved friend. “Probably more helpless.”

  Posey massaged the red marks under her leg brace. “I have a hunch you’re more magical than you may think. The Evil Mage thought so; that was obvious. The way he found you, sort of on purpose. Your sister is older and more experienced, but he homed in on you.”

  Posey was trying to make me feel better, but bitterness at my failure ran deep. “Yeah, I’m extra-special. I’m an Attractor. Big whoop. I attract nothing but disaster, and this is the biggest disaster of all time. In addition to everyday magic, this sorcerer has dragons and the Nebbula necklace. I don’t think even the United States Air Force could shoot him down.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Do?” I threw up my hands. “Nothing! My father is frozen, my mother is flattened, and Bob and my sister are certainly petrified. Your brother is missing. My dragon is stolen. I don’t have a wand, and I don’t know how to do magic without one.”

  “That’s grim. I hope you’re exaggerating. Anyway, I think the Air Force could shoot him down.”

  “Not if Azelbomb sees them first.” I looked hard at my new friend. “Can’t you manage to join me in one tiny tantrum? It’ll make you feel better—well, it’ll make me feel better, anyway.”

  Posey adjusted her glasses and smoothed her bangs. “No need. I’m pretty confident there’s one last great magical spell floating around that will save the day—like in a fantasy tale.”

  “Fantasies? What are you thinking?” I threw my head back and stifled a frustrated wail. “If only I could get a message to the Wizarding Council, maybe we’d have a chance…but that’ll never happen. This place is sealed tight.”

  “Can’t you use a magic phone and just call them?”

  “No magic—in or out.”

  “What about an Ordinary phone?”

  I looked up at the poster of my mother on the ceiling and wondered. Did we know any wizard who used an Ordinary phone besides us? I thought not.

  A trickle of water seeped beneath my feet. The ice block around Dad was melting. Finally!

  “Let’s build up the fire and move my dad closer. Maybe I did do something right after all. A good blaze might melt the ice cube and free him.”

  “Brilliant. You see what I mean? There’s always something.” Posey hobbled over to help me move the ice block. It slid easily over the water puddle.

  “Don’t touch that green ribbon, or the red seal,” I warned. “They’re jinxed. Very bad.”

  By the time we got Grizzwald situated as near to the fire as we dared, the ribbon had slipped to the foot of the ice block and was floating like a Christmas wreath around my still-frozen father.

  “Don’t step on it!” I shouted. Then, I wondered. “If we can lift the ice block over it without touching the Bounce-and-Stick Spell, maybe the curse will be nullified.”

  “Let’s try!” Posey and I stood on opposite sides and bent precariously over the dangerous puddle as we wrapped our arms around the icy megalith. No matter how we grunted and groaned, two slightly built girls (one with a wobbly leg) could not provide enough manpower to lift one frozen adult even a few inches off the g
round. We fell back, rubbing our freezing arms and panting.

  “It’s hopeless,” Posey wailed. We looked at each other, and the same thought flashed through both our minds. “Marsh?” We stumbled over each other racing to the basement door.

  The door was locked. Posey put her mouth to the keyhole and shouted, “Marsh, are you in there?”

  “Go away.”

  “This is your sister, Posey. Come out. We need you!”

  “Can’t come out.”

  “Open the door! We have to help Corny.”

  The sigh Marsh gave vibrated through the door. When it finally opened, we gasped. “What happened to you?”

  Marsh’s face was painted white, his eyes were rimmed with black, and his lips were red and garish. On his head, a fool’s cap flopped around his ears. He wore garish tights in a diamond pattern and cloth booties with little bells on the toes. Marsh Meadows had been turned into a jester.

  He wouldn’t look at us. “I was trying to save Corny when a crazy biker dude caught me shielding her. He doubled over laughing and wouldn’t stop. ‘What’s so funny, joker?’ I shouted. ‘You are,’ he said. The next thing I knew—zap!”

  Marsh spread his arms out and looked at himself piteously. “This is humiliating. I’ve been cowering in the basement ever since. This paint won’t wash off! These clothes won’t come off! I’ll never be able to face Cornelia again.”

  “You might be right, unless you help us move my dad. Maybe he’ll fix you when he thaws!” I tugged him by the arm.

  With great effort and serious grunting, Marsh the jester, Posey, and I finally managed to hoist Grizzwald over the ribbon, stagger backward, and drop the ice block with a crunch. The Bounce-and-Stick ribbon faded away. Now we had only to wait for Grizzwald to thaw (if we lived that long!)

  I crouched in the least-damaged armchair and stared at Dad. I knew my father could perform some wonderful magic without a wand, and when he returned to himself, he’d undoubtedly try to fix things. Powerful as he was, I still couldn’t help wondering if there was anything on Earth that could reverse the multiple disasters I had caused.