by Holly Webb
Contents
Cover
Half Title Page
Look Out for More Books by Holly Webb
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Copyright
Emily poked thoughtfully at the sticky, scented mixture for her cake, and closed her eyes.
All her family had told her that her cooking was magical. Lots of people at school said so too, but they didn’t mean it in quite the same way. Robin, Emily’s younger brother, and her older sisters, Lark and Lory, knew that Emily was stirring spells into her cakes and cookies and brownies and fudge. They understood about magic far better than anyone else could. What they didn’t understand was quite where Emily was getting the magic from – it wasn’t as if she was a fairy. Not like them.
Emily had found out the truth a couple of months before: that her family weren’t her family by blood. She had been adopted. Found. Chosen, her father, Ash, explained. He said it made her even more special. He had found her abandoned on a riverbank and brought her home to be looked after.
Emily added a drop more vanilla extract, and frowned to herself. Being adopted was the simplest part to understand, even though it wasn’t easy to know how she should feel. It was the rest of the family set-up that she’d taken a while to get her head around.
All of Emily’s family were fairies – and they were important ones. They were close relations of the royal family in a separate faraway world. The house that they lived in was actually a gateway to that other place. It was Ash’s job to guard the doors and stop anyone from travelling between the two. Sometimes Emily wondered how she’d got to ten years old without realizing what was going on. Or at least understanding that her family was a bit strange, compared to everyone else’s. But she’d grown up with strange, she thought, dipping a teaspoon into her mixture and tasting. For her, strange was normal. She was used to seeing odd things out of the corner of her eye, things that weren’t there when she turned round and looked at them properly. She’d never really understood that other people’s houses weren’t like that.
She’d put her dad’s weirdness down to him being an author. Somebody who was always writing about trolls and demons and every kind of monster ought to be a bit different. And her mum was . . . well. Artists were always peculiar, and Eva was an artist, though mostly she drew designs for fabrics.
Emily had always assumed that there was an odd one out in every family, and she was it. The normal one. The boring child, who helpfully made cups of tea and listened when her dad was having a panic over his deadline, or when he had somehow managed to lead half his characters into an exploding volcano with no idea how to get them out again.
Except that now, she wasn’t normal any more. Emily smiled to herself as the cake mixture filled her mouth with sweetness – there was honey, and a soft, cosy buzzing, like bees on lavender. That wasn’t normal. That was magic. And it wasn’t only good for cooking. Her magic was growing. Last week, she had taken a handful of brownie crumbs and made a tiny, gorgeous cocoa-furred mouse. Robin had begged to keep him as a pet – now he slept in a teacup next to Robin’s bed. Emily would never be like Robin, or her sisters, who could fling spells around the house all day. For her, magic was hard – but it was there, and it was beautiful, and special, and so, so exciting.
“Ems! Haven’t you finished that yet?” Her older sister Lory was leaning against the kitchen door frame, staring at her impatiently.
“No, I’m still trying to get it right.” Emily frowned. “Why, what’s the matter?”
“Dad wants to talk to us. I told him you were cooking, and he got a sort of funny look on his face and said we’d wait till you were finished. So hurry up, will you, please? I want to know what’s going on.”
Emily wrinkled her nose curiously and sniffed at her cake mixture. It smelled gorgeous, and she was suddenly sure it was ready. She scraped it quickly into the tin, and then, without really thinking what she was doing, she pressed both hands gently against the metal and closed her eyes, just for a second, before she slid the tin into the oven and set the timer.
“What were you doing just then?” Lory asked her, frowning a little.
“When? Setting the timer? I always do. Especially because if Dad wants us for something interesting, I might forget to check the cake.”
“No, silly! I know what the oven timer is!”
Emily sniffed. “Do you? I’ve never seen you do more than make toast. And even then you always leave the bread out, and crumbs all over the place.” But she was grinning, and Lory only pretended to smack her.
“I meant when you held the tin like that – it almost seemed as though you were talking to it.”
“Oh. . .” Emily looked bewildered. “Did I? I don’t remember. . .”
Lory nodded, peering at her interestedly, and then at the cake, which was softly glowing in the light of the oven. “You did.” She shook her head. “We should have noticed ages ago what you’re doing when you cook. Magic all the way. No wonder you make nicer cakes than anybody else.”
Emily eyed the cake too. “Is that what you and Lark meant about magic not being something you do on purpose? Like you don’t always have to say spell words? Sometimes it just . . . happens, without you trying to?”
“Mm-hm.”
“And it’s happening to me too? Just a little bit?” Emily whispered, wanting Lory to tell her about the magic again, to make her sure. She could still taste the cake mixture in her mouth – there was sugar and honey on her tongue, and vanilla in the crack between her front teeth. It tasted very, very good. Imagine being able to make magic without even thinking about it!
Emily hadn’t really understood what Robin had meant when he told her that she had magic too. He’d tried to explain that it had leaked into her, from living with them for ten years, and from the house, with its doors to the fairy world. Emily had expected that Lark and Lory and Robin might be able to teach her a few little spells. Easy tricks. But not that magic might grow in her like this. She was beginning to see that maybe it had been growing for a while.
“Oh, Ems. It’s been happening for ages, and you just didn’t know it.” Lory frowned, two pretty lines running down between her perfectly arched eyebrows. “Maybe years, even. We didn’t know it either, though. I think that’s probably one of the things Dad wants to talk about.”
“Is he cross?” Emily looked at Lory worriedly.
Lory shook her head. “I don’t think so. A bit worried, maybe. Come on.”
Emily peered nervously at their dad as she followed Lory into the tiny writing room under the stairs. But as far as she could see, their father looked quite normal. As normal as he ever did, anyway. He was the least human-looking of her family, even when he was disguised as a human! His skin had an odd, chalky look to it, and he was too much all one colour. Lark and Robin were perched on either arm of his big chair, and Eva was leaning against his desk. And yet the little room under the stairs didn’t look cramped, even when Emily sat down on a tower of books and Lory stretched herself out on the rug.
Her father smiled at Emily. “Is the cake done, then?”
“It’s in the oven. . .” Emily said uncertainly. She’d hardly spoken to him over the last few days, and she wasn’t quite sure what this was all about.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured, his grey, marble-like eyes darkening a little. “Don’t be scared of m
e, Emily.”
She ducked her head, embarrassed and still a little worried. “You’re angry with me,” she whispered. “For having magic. And for – well, for using it.”
“No! I promise, Emily, that’s not it.” He sighed. “I am angry, furious actually, but not with you. We were stupid, that’s why I’m angry. We should have realized how much living here would change you. And we’ve been too – too strict, I suppose. With you all.”
Emily saw Robin and Lark and Lory shift, leaning closer, their eyes brightening. Robin’s eyes definitely got bigger. So this wasn’t just another lecture on being careful, and keeping their secrets, and never showing any magic, and, and, and. . .
Eva shook her head, her beautiful dark red hair curling and twisting around her shoulders. It was glittering fiercely, the way it did when she got angry. Little fiery sparks fizzled into the air, and Emily eyed her mother worriedly. But Eva didn’t shout. She looked tired. Almost defeated, as though she had lost a battle. Her eyes were red, and Emily wondered if she might have been crying. “I still don’t think this is right,” she said sadly. “So dangerous. . .”
Dangerous. . . Something fluttered at the corners of Emily’s mind, something soft and golden-feathered and eager. But she brushed it away. It was just another stray wisp of spell. Magic was swirling in the air of the tiny room now, and excitement was building.
Gruff, Eva’s huge black dog, suddenly arrived in the doorway, and the hair along his spine was standing up. He padded silently to Eva and sat down next to her, so still he could have been carved from ebony. She laid her hand on his massive neck and leaned on him just a little. Emily could see the faint relief in her mother’s eyes. Whatever was happening, Eva was unhappy about it, and Gruff was helping her to be strong.
Their father sighed. “You’re too worried about them all, Eva! I know you just want to keep them safe. I understand – particularly now. . . But they’re too old to be babied.”
Why now? Emily wondered, but there was no time to ask, and she was as eager as the others to hear what their father was going to say.
“We’ve always said no magic outside the house, and that you should only be doing the slightest charms and glamours anyway. But. . .”
All four of the children stared at him eagerly.
“Well – it isn’t working, is it? We thought by banning magic we’d be keeping you safe, but all we’ve done is make you hide your spells from us. If you’d trusted us to help you, you wouldn’t have needed to go chasing off into the fairy world.”
Emily flushed, and stared at the faded rug beneath her feet. It had seemed at the time as though there was nothing else they could do. But perhaps he was right. She had never been meant to go to the fairy world. Humans didn’t; it was too dangerous. But she couldn’t help it! The first time had been an accident. Emily had only just found out that she was adopted, and that her family were not her family. That they weren’t even human. She was so confused and angry that all she wanted to do was get away, and somehow she had broken through into that other world. She had woken up to find herself surrounded by fairies – beautiful but dangerous, and hungry for the strength and life a human child could bring them. They had charmed Emily, begging her to stay, and of course she hadn’t understood what they were doing. She had only seen their loveliness, and the gentle way they spoke. Lady Anstis, their leader, had made Emily feel so welcome. So wanted. She had only just escaped, rescued by Lark and Lory, with the help of a water-sprite girl.
But then Emily had gone back again, on purpose, to rescue a friend. Sasha, that same water sprite, was being hunted because she had helped them. And the rescue had worked – now Sasha was living in the garden pond. In fact, Emily was pretty sure she liked it there. The pond seemed to be magically bigger, and there were frogs lurking under all the bushes in the garden, and jewelled dragonflies dive-bombing the grass.
The last time Emily had been to the fairy world, she had gone to the rescue again, this time with Lark and Robin, and Sasha too. Lory had been stolen away by a fairy, who’d bewitched her with a song. Even Lark and Lory hadn’t known what he was – they’d thought he was just an annoying boy from school – until the spell had begun to work and Lory had brought him into the house. The house had been what Dantis was after all along – a way back to the fairy world he’d been exiled from for so long. He hated the human world, and he’d been desperate to return, desperate enough not to care who he hurt on the way. Dantis had enchanted Lory so deeply that she’d threatened to hurt Lark, her own twin, if anyone told their parents what he was doing. They’d had to rescue Lory by themselves.
Emily glanced at the white cat that was draped along the back of her father’s armchair. The treacherous Dantis was much better as a cat. Right now he was eyeing Gruff cautiously, and flexing his claws in and out of the velvet covering of the chair.
“So now we can do any spells we like?” Robin asked, his voice high and squeaky with excitement.
Eva looked at him sharply. “Provided you’re not hurting anyone. . .”
Robin widened his eyes angelically and shook his head.
Eva sighed and reached out to stroke his hair, twisting one of the dark red curls around her finger for a moment, until Robin rolled his eyes and pulled away. He hated being fussed at.
“And no blowing anything up,” Ash added, in a suspicious voice. “Just – just be sensible, all right?” He sighed. “And still no magic outside the house.”
“Awww, Dad!” Lark put on a pleading face. “None? Just a few little bits at school? Come on. . .”
“Too dangerous.”
“We wouldn’t get caught,” Lory added pleadingly. But Emily could tell that neither of her sisters thought begging was going to work. And they didn’t mind all that much. Being allowed to use any magic they liked within the house was far more than any of them had expected.
“What about Emily?” Robin asked suddenly. “Is she allowed to do any magic she likes too?”
Ash nodded, frowning a little. “Yee-eees. Except you need to be extra careful, Emily. Your magic’s different. Something new, and we don’t know much about it yet.”
“But we’re here, Emily,” Eva added anxiously. “Ask us and we can help, even if we’re all feeling our way with your magic.”
“And there’s always your water sprite to help,” Ash added, his voice dropping a little, and Emily gave a tiny sigh. He was still cross about her bringing Sasha back. No one was supposed to make the journey between the worlds without permission, even if was life or death, as it had been for Sasha.
Then her father smiled, showing his surprisingly white teeth. “Please can you bring me a bit of cake when it’s done?”
Emily nodded. If magic was allowed now, she was going to have to go and think very carefully about what to put in the icing. . .
“What is it?” Lory prodded disdainfully at the greyish slice of cake in front of her, and Emily sighed.
“I don’t really know. You all say I put magic in my cooking, but I’ve never actually tried to before. . . It always just happened without me doing anything. So this time I. . .” Emily poked at the solid lump of cake. “Well, I sort of tried to make a magic cake. After Dad said yesterday that any spells were allowed, I put magic in it on purpose. But it didn’t work right.”
Lory nodded. “I guessed. What was it supposed to do?”
“Stop Robin being hungry. It was meant to be super-filling. So there was some left for the rest of us.”
Lory giggled, and suddenly Emily saw how much of her sister’s magic had been buried inside her. Now that they didn’t have to hide, Lory’s pure happiness spilled out of her with the laughter, and a small golden bird popped into the air above her head, fluttering and swooping round the kitchen. It darted over the plate of cake and seized a crumb in its beak. Lory put a hand over her mouth, practically choking with laughter as the bird stopped mid-air, its wings buzzin
g with sudden panicked effort. It lurched heavily out of the kitchen window in a series of clumsy swoops and flaps, and disappeared into the ivy growing up the outside wall. Confused twittering floated back to them.
“Well, it worked, didn’t it? He’s not going to be hungry for that, Ems, and there’ll be plenty left.”
“Don’t be so mean,” Emily muttered crossly. “I really tried. I don’t know why it didn’t work. It was supposed to be delicious and squidgy and banana-toffee flavoured.”
“Maybe you tried too hard,” Lory said thoughtfully. “Cakes are light, aren’t they, unless it’s that fab chocolate-fudge brick thing you do. Too much trying might make a magic cake – um, like this. . .”
“Mmmm. I suppose so.” Emily sighed. “Perhaps it’s better just to let the magic happen naturally. But that’s no good when you’re really trying to do something in particular. Like – learn my spellings. I can’t just naturally let that happen. It won’t. And Mrs Daunt’s given us loads, it’s not fair. I hate the way we get them on Fridays – it ruins the whole weekend.”
Lory sighed and rolled her eyes, but having her the freedom to use her magic all the time seemed to have made her a lot less grumpy too. Emily could hardly remember the last time she’d sat and chatted like this. Like sisters in books did. It helped that Lark was buried in her room doing something super-secret. And of course, Lory’s boyfriend had turned out to be a slimeball fairy exile, who wanted to murder the fairy king for revenge. And then he’d been turned into a cat.
Lory was bored, and Emily was company.
“Get the list.” Glittering sparks shot between Lory’s fingers as she snapped them, and Emily darted into the hallway and pulled her spelling sheet out of her bag. Perhaps Lory could just beam them into her brain somehow. She held out the piece of paper and stared at her sister hopefully.
“Can you really not spell the months of the year?” Lory raised her eyebrows, and Emily’s shoulders slumped.
