Diary of Anna the Girl Witch 1: Foundling Witch

by Max Candee

  “Come with me,” he snapped. We followed him down a short corridor to an interrogation room.

  “You sit in there,” he pointed at me. “You wait out there.” He pointed at Sister Constance and then to a chair along the wall outside.

  “I’ll do no such thing!” Sister Constance puffed up her chest and stood tall. She barely reached the constable’s nose, but when she waved her cane in his face, he backed off a step. “I already told you that this young lady is in my charge. And she will remain so. If you wish to take her statement, you will do so in my presence. Is that understood, young man?”

  Constable Ouellette mumbled an apology. I wasn’t surprised that Sister Constance could make even this hulking police officer feel like a naughty schoolboy. She had a gift.

  The interrogation room was lit by a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. More of the ghastly green paint reflected from the walls. The only furniture in the room was a small table with two chairs on either side, so the officer brought in another chair from the corridor. We all sat down, and Constable Ouellette took a notepad and pen from his shirt pocket.

  “Start from the beginning,” he said. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  While he scribbled notes, I told him about the party on Friday and that I had overheard André and Victor talking about prisoners. Then I told him how I went looking for Mei in the empty house.

  “I thought it was strange that she wasn’t around school,” I said. “I was worried.”

  “But you saw her at this party on Friday night. Is that right?” Constable Ouellette asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did anybody else see her at the party?”

  That was an odd question.

  “I don’t know; I suppose so. There were a lot of people there.”

  “So you broke into the Montmorencys’ house because you were worried about your friend.”

  “I didn’t break in! The door was open.” Okay, still lying. But “breaking in” implied that I had broken a window or something and they wouldn’t find any evidence of that. “And I found her. She was in the basement with five other kids. They’re still there, locked in a dungeon. I swear! That place is disgusting—”

  Constable Ouellette held up a hand.

  “Wait a minute. You expect me to believe that André and Marie Montmorency, two of Luyons’ most upstanding citizens, have children locked in their basement?”

  “Yes! I know it sounds crazy, but they need three more. That Victor guy kept talking about the Nine. They need nine children for something… Gaëlle is number seven, I believe. Beatrice is about to become number eight… and I think they want me for number nine.”

  I knew I was starting to sound crazy, but I told the constable about the conversation I had overheard between Victor and André.

  “Victor insisted that a certain child be among the Nine, but André said he’d tried to adopt her three times already. That’s me! He’s asked me to join their family three times. I swear I’m not making this up!”

  To my surprise, Sister Constance took my hand and squeezed it. At least someone believed me. The police would too, as soon as they raided Irvigne Manor.

  But Constable Ouellette seemed to have other ideas. He sat back, tipping his chair on two legs, and glared at me. His eyes were almost entirely black, with little difference between his iris and his pupil. His gaze fell on me heavily. I felt magic in that glare. It was sort of like the feeling I’d had when I had walked through walls. All my bones turned rubbery as if they wouldn’t hold me up.

  Soon the magic encircled me, pressing in. My hands rose to my throat. I couldn’t breathe! Constable Ouellette continued to focus on me. A small smile tugged at his mouth. He was suffocating me with his magic… The room was starting to go fuzzy, and I knew I had to do something soon, or I would black out.

  I gathered my own magic into a tight ball in my stomach – this time it felt warm, and I imagined it purple in color – and lashed out. It hit Constable Ouellette in the chest, sending him and his chair crashing to the floor. His notebook fell open on the table, and I managed to read his underlined note:

  She’s the one!

  Chapter 10

  Dear Diary,

  My run-in with Constable Ouellette didn’t leave me with any good feelings toward the police officers of this town. Not only is he rude, but he is the only other person I’ve met who can do magic!

  I’ve been so busy trying to master this new art all by myself, I hadn’t even considered that others might be like me. To have this revelation and realize that the only other magic user I know is willing to use that magic to hurt me… well, let’s just say it is distressing.

  The only happy news is that, as soon as the police investigate Irvigne Manor, Mei will be free, and Gaëlle too! I can’t wait to have my friends back.

  * * *

  After he righted his chair and smoothed out his shirt and dignity, Constable Ouellette let us go. I smirked at him although the now-familiar ache after using too much magic once more throbbed in my chest.

  Serves you right for picking on a little girl, I thought. You big bully.

  He promised to check out Irvigne Manor and let us know what he found. He was already on the phone to his supervisor when we left. I had no idea why he had tried to shut me up and whether we could even trust him. Sister Constance didn’t seem to think his sudden fall from his chair was unusual. And, as always when magic was involved, I began to doubt that anything unusual had happened. After all, I was tired, and the constable might not have been responsible for my feeling woozy and out of breath in his stuffy interrogation room.

  My logical mind was trying to convince itself that I had only imagined my short magical duel with Constable Ouellette – but my heart knew that something wrong had happened in that police station.

  “I know I’m usually the first one to be suspicious of others,” said Sister Constance as we walked past the shuttered shops, “but that officer was odd, even by my standards.”

  Suddenly, I wanted to pour out the whole story to Sister Constance, even about my magic. I had never felt so alone as when the constable was suffocating me – yes, I was now sure he had tried to choke me. I could have died, and no one would have known why. I didn’t like it one bit.

  “Did you sense anything strange about Constable Ouellette?” I asked, not knowing exactly how to phrase my question.

  “I sensed that he has worse manners than a street urchin!” Sister Constance said. “And that he doesn’t brush his teeth often enough. His breath stank of garlic. Honestly, you’d think a man who deals with the public all day would use mints once in a while.”

  I held back a nervous giggle while Sister Constance grumbled on about the poor hygiene and manners of the public these days. The urge to spill my secret passed. I knew that I would have to tell someone soon, but I vowed to pick the time and person and not let circumstances reveal my secret prematurely.

  Sister Daphne was waiting for us at the Collège.

  “Beatrice is home safe,” she said. “But she’s all excited about going to live in the castle with the Montmorencys.”

  I could see that she’d been crying. Her eyes were rimmed in red. Poor Sister Daphne. She loved every single one of the children in her care. And after tonight, I was starting to realize that Sister Constance did too. She just showed it in a different way.

  “Well, after tomorrow, the Montmorencys won’t be able to hurt Beatrice or any other child,” Sister Constance said. “The constable assured us that he would be looking into the matter. Now you, young lady, off to bed.”

  I thanked her for taking me to the police station, and on a whim, I kissed her wrinkled face. She muttered something about cheeky girls and shooed me up the stairs.

  I thought I would never sleep that night. Visions of Mei’s tear-stained face kept popping up in my mind. I even imagined little Beatrice behind bars. We would save her from a terrible fate, but she would be heartbroken once she learned that she wasn’t going to have a r
eal family this time.

  Halfway through the sleepless night, I got up, found Squire in my backpack, and went back to bed, hugging him to my chest like a teddy bear.

  When I finally fell asleep, I had terrible nightmares of Victor chasing me through a forest of hedges. His deep voice echoed through the trees: She’s the one! She’s the one!

  * * *

  I woke up to pounding on my door.

  Stumbling out of bed, I threw on my bathrobe and slippers and opened the door to find two police officers standing there, their faces stern and aloof. I recognized Constable Ouellette from my questioning last night. He looked the same as he had yesterday, only with a thick shadow of stubble on his face and rumpled clothes.

  “Anna Sophia, you are under arrest for the murder of Mei Montmorency,” he said.

  “What?” My mind refused to register the scene in front of me. “Mei isn’t dead. I just saw her last night. You were supposed to go rescue her. You promised me!”

  “Mei Montmorency has been missing for a week,” Constable Ouellette said. There was a heavy finality in his voice; it was clear he wasn’t about to listen to any more from me.

  I realized that I was still gripping Squire in one hand. Remembering my nightmares that had caused me to get up and find him, I felt dread rising in my chest. I dropped Squire into the pocket of my robe just before the other constable turned me around, grabbing my shoulder painfully, and clamped my wrists in handcuffs.

  “I didn’t hurt anybody!” I yelled. “You know that!”

  The constable jerked me into the hallway. A group of girls, still wearing pajamas, had gathered by the stairs. Lauraleigh pushed through them.

  “Where are you taking Anna?” she demanded. Her messy hair fell across her eyes, and she pushed it away impatiently.

  “This girl is the prime suspect in a murder case,” said the constable, whose name tag read “Barnabé.”

  My legs were unstable with fear, and my stomach flip-flopped with every breath. I tried to speak but couldn’t get a single word out through the lump in my throat.

  Lauraleigh stepped in front of us before the officers could drag me down the stairs. “You can’t just take her away like this!” she cried out.

  They pushed her out of the way and descended the stairs as I stumbled along behind them.

  They had managed to ignore Lauraleigh. She was just a student, after all. But at the bottom of the stairs was a force that made the stern officers stop in their tracks.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Sister Constance said icily. She wore a gray bathrobe and a net over the curlers in her hair. Her cane was raised like a weapon.

  Constable Ouellette had already faced the Sister’s wrath. He pulled himself to his full height and stuck out his chin defiantly. “This girl is wanted for the murder of Mei Montmorency.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Sister Constance said with a dismissive chortle. “What proof do you have?”

  The constable waved a piece of paper in front of her face. “This warrant for her arrest is all the proof I need. Now move out of my way, or I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

  Sister Constance glared at the two officers. Her eyes were dark with fury, and her lips were set in a thin line. She grabbed the paper and read it. Then, after a moment, she moved aside. Constable Barnabé jabbed me between my shoulders, and I stumbled forward.

  “Don’t worry, child,” Sister Constance said. “I’ll call Monsieur Nolan, and we’ll have this mess cleared up right away.”

  I wanted to throw my arms around her and beg her not to let them take me away. But my hands were bound behind me, and Constable Barnabé pushed me forward before I could speak.

  Another crowd of onlookers had gathered outside, drawn by the flashing lights and noise. Tears blurred my vision as Constable Barnabé shoved me into the back of a police cruiser.

  “Get in there and don’t make a fuss,” he grumbled.

  Constable Ouellette started the car and the siren. There’s no reason for the siren, I thought, except to attract as much attention as possible. Everyone in Luyons will soon think I’m a murderer.

  My tears ceased flowing like a faucet being turned off. I had no more use for them. Instead, I could feel rage blossoming in my chest as it had when I’d found Mei locked up in that cell. I knew I could release it like a whip as I had done to the Rottweilers, and the officers would never know what hit them. Blasting them would feel so good, but… but it wouldn’t solve my problem. I would still be a murder suspect. No, best to wait and use my magic when it would count the most.

  Once this misunderstanding was cleared up, I would learn everything I could about Ouellette and Barnabé. Monsieur Nolan would help me. Ouellette was more than just a constable. He knew magic, and I wanted to know where he had learned it.

  I was so lost in thought that I hadn’t noticed when Constable Ouellette turned off the siren. I did see that we had driven right past the police station and were heading out of town.

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked. Neither of the officers answered, but Barnabé looked back at me and smirked.

  This was bad. Monsieur Nolan would be heading for the police station in Luyons. If they were they taking me to another town, how would he find me?

  Ten minutes later, we turned up the twisting mountain road. We weren’t heading for another police station. They were taking me to Irvigne Manor!

  “You’re not even real police officers, are you?” I asked through my clenched teeth.

  “Sure I am,” Constable Ouellette responded in a light tone. “Been on the force for over ten years. Barnabé here has been in uniform for just a few hours, but it looks good on him, don’t you think?”

  My mind whirled, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. Ouellette was a real cop, I was certain. He’d been at the station last night, and he couldn’t have known I’d go there. Barnabé was probably just a hired thug.

  “You both work for André, don’t you?”

  “Enough questions,” Ouellette said. He pressed the gas pedal, and we zoomed up the twisting road at frightening speed. No one had bothered to buckle me in, and every turn in the road sent me banging against one side door or the other. I thought about jumping out, but the police car was made to hold captives; the rear doors lacked handles.

  I have to use my magic, I thought. Should I lash out at Barnabé or Ouellette? If I hit Ouellette with a hard enough force, he might black out and lose control of the car. On this road, that could kill us all. But I didn’t see any other choice.

  I coiled my magic tight in my chest again, imagining it like a big ball of solid, blue energy.

  Ouellette slammed on the brakes, and I hit the front seats hard enough to bruise my shoulder. I lost control of my magic, and it fizzled out.

  Barnabé opened the rear door and dragged me into the early sunshine. The road was bumpy and uneven. Rocks poked through my thin slippers, bruising my feet. We stood on the top of a mountain. At the edge of the road, the land dropped off into a tumble of rocks and bracken all the way down to a narrow river. The river was foaming around large boulders in the middle of its stream.

  That would be a terrible fall.

  Ouellette grabbed my shoulder and jerked me away from the car. “Stand here and don’t make any trouble.” He turned to Barnabé. “He’ll be here any minute. Get it done.”

  Barnabé nodded. From the trunk, he took two bricks. The car’s nose was pointed toward the drop. Barnabé opened the driver’s door and dropped the bricks on the gas pedal. The engine roared. He grabbed the shift lever and put the car into drive, sending the car crashing down the embankment.

  Stunned, I watched the car tumble fender over fender. Glass crashed. Metal smashed. At the bottom, the car exploded in flames.

  “No one could survive a crash like that,” said Ouellette with a grin. “Your friends will all think you’re dead now. You’re nothing more than a dead murderer.”

  He was right. That was how I would be remem
bered unless I did something right now. But before I could muster my magic again, another car drove up and skidded to a halt, throwing dust and rocks at us.

  André stepped out of the passenger’s side. Even that early in the morning, he was wearing an impeccable black suit with a royal blue handkerchief poking out of the jacket pocket.

  “Hello, Number Nine,” he said, and beamed a toothy smile at me.

  Chapter 11

  Dear Diary,

  Energy is all around me. I feel it in the wind and in the breath of people nearby. I feel it surging inside me like waves against a rocky beach. So far, I have managed only a few small tricks, mostly when I was frightened. Strong emotions seem to have magic of their own, or perhaps desperation focuses my magic. I don’t know.

  This power scares me. When the dogs attacked us at Irvigne Manor, I lashed out in self-defense. But I’ve also been tempted to use magic to harm others in anger. Magic flows on the heels of rage, and I fear I won’t be strong enough to resist it…

  * * *

  I spent the ride to Irvigne Manor sandwiched between Ouellette and Barnabé. André rode in front with a driver I didn’t recognize.

  “You two will have to disappear for a while,” said André, tossing a fat envelope at each of them. “That should be enough to cover your fee, plus a little extra for travel expenses.”

  Barnabé opened his envelope and counted the money. Then he nodded with a satisfied grunt.

  Ouellette tucked his envelope into a shirt pocket without looking inside. “I think I should stay until Victor arrives,” he said. “I want to keep an eye on this one.” He jabbed me in the shoulder with his fat finger.

  “Are you saying I’m not capable of guarding a little girl?” André asked over his shoulder. There was a dangerous edge to his voice.

  “I’m saying that I don’t want to face Victor if she gets away, do you?” asked Ouellette. He didn’t seem intimidated by André, and I wondered whom he really worked for. So far, I knew he was a constable, paid by André to kidnap children. It wasn’t a stretch to believe that he could also be working for the mysterious Victor.