Castle Hangnail

by Ursula Vernon

Molly picked up a handful of seeds, whispered the words of a spell to them, and threw them down in the mud.

  The seeds sat for a moment or two, then put out two little green leaves apiece. They added a second set of leaves, then a third.

  Then they seemed to stall for a minute. Majordomo frowned, but Miss Handlebram nodded. “They’re building roots,” she said. “That’s starry rosinweed, that is—roots can go ten feet deep. That’s what we need here, to stabilize all that mud.” She smiled. “Butterflies like it too.”

  Apparently she was correct. After a moment or two, the leaves suddenly erupted. They were as high as Molly’s head in five minutes, and higher than Angus’s in six.

  Bright yellow flowers popped open, a cloud of golden daisies swaying eight feet off the ground. Molly threw out another handful of seed.

  Angus scooped up a handful of mud and popped a sprig of mint into the hole. Molly eyed it warily—mint grows like an invading army, and she was almost afraid to give it too much magic—but she muttered the words of the spell over it and it took off with the speed of a charging racehorse. You could watch green leaves spilling over the ground like streams of water.

  Molly took a step forward, onto the green carpet of mint. The ground squelched—dipped an inch—and didn’t sink.

  “It’s working!” cried Pins.

  The moat was half full of golden flowers and more than half full of mint runners when Eudaimonia stepped out onto the broken stone causeway. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Gardening,” said Molly, tossing out more seed. A white butterfly flitted in from the garden and settled happily on the rosinweed.

  Eudaimonia’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we had agreed to battle at noon,” she said coldly.

  “You said noon,” said Molly. “I didn’t say anything.” She scowled. “You always say things and just expect everybody to go along with it. And anyway, I’m not battling. I’m just planting flowers. They’re not hurting you.”

  Eudaimonia whipped out her wand and froze a stand of rosinweed in ice. “Then I’m just weeding.”

  Molly shrugged. She knew—and Eudaimonia didn’t—that you can’t kill a plant with deep roots merely by freezing the green bits. The rosinweed would grow back twice as big once the ice melted.

  The mint was even less impressed. When the Sorceress blasted a hole in the carpet of green, the mint overgrew it in five minutes flat.

  “You always did like playing in the dirt,” said Eudaimonia. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’re still at it. It’s all the magic you can do, I guess.”

  Molly threw another handful of seed. She knew that the Sorceress couldn’t see underneath the causeway, but the rosinweed was growing right up to the door now, and the mint had already crept inside.

  With a bass drone, the Clockwork Bees arrived. They settled on the flowers, mechanical legs working busily.

  Eudaimonia shot a quick look at the position of the sun. Her lips twisted together.

  That’s odd.

  That’s very odd.

  She looks . . . scared.

  Why would she be scared of the sun? She isn’t a Vampire. I’d have noticed. And Vampires don’t eat quiche.

  Eudaimonia scowled and blasted another set of flowers. A Clockwork Bee fell off, encased in ice, and crashed to the ground.

  “Hey!” said Molly. “What did you do that for?”

  “Oh come on,” said Eudaimonia. “It’s a stupid little wind-up toy. You might as well get upset over a broken toaster.” She zapped another one.

  “Those are my Bees!” Molly gritted her teeth. “They belong to the castle! Leave them alone!”

  One of the working Clockwork Bees landed beside a frozen one and tapped it gingerly. Its little metal antennae swiveled as it examined its fallen comrade.

  “It’s not your castle yet,” said Eudaimonia pleasantly. She stole another glance at the sun, which was just coming over the top of the castle.

  “Yes, it is! The Board of Magic said so!” Molly had an urge to add “Well, mostly,” but squelched it.

  Angus set a hoof on the mint. The mud held up under his weight. He nodded to Molly.

  All right. The moat’s clear. We can attack and she can’t hole up inside the tower.

  I guess it’s time.

  “It is my castle,” said Molly. She took a deep breath. “And we’re not waiting ’til noon. We’re doing this now. This is my place. And I want you to leave.”

  A second Clockwork Bee landed beside the first. It repeated the tap-tap-tap inspection of the frozen Bee.

  Eudaimonia rolled her eyes. “That’s your idea of a formal challenge? ‘I want you to leave’? Molly, dear, you’re throwing an enemy out of your territory, not trying to get that stupid sister of yours to stay on her side of the room.”

  Hey! She called my twin stupid!

  Nobody calls my twin stupid but me!

  “Fine!” yelled Molly. “You’re a mean person and I don’t like you and I want you to leave right now and never come back!”

  The older girl sighed. “It’ll have to do.”

  She lifted her wand.

  Battle was joined.

  Chapter 47

  If you have never seen a battle between a Wicked Witch and an Evil Sorceress, then you have likely missed a great and terrible sight. For while a battle between a Purple Djinn and a Diabolical Mentalist will consist of two people clutching their temples and glaring at each other, and the fight between a Haggischarmer and a Cursed Beastlord will be too gruesome to bear, a Witch and a Sorceress is the sort of battle that people make up songs about.

  For Witches are tough and fierce and stubborn—and no Sorceress anywhere ever did anything quietly.

  A bolt of ice shot from the end of Eudaimonia’s wand and Molly flung herself flat. The bolt shot over her head and froze ten feet of flowers. Another Clockwork Bee dropped to the ground, to be investigated by an increasingly large group of its fellows.

  There were not very many offensive spells in the Little Gray Book. Witches do not go in for zapping people with pure power. Instead they make use of the objects at hand.

  When Molly had been hiding by the boiler, she spent every waking moment reading and rereading the book. Now she just had to put the spells to use.

  She yanked up a handful of mint leaves, waved at the stones under Eudaimonia’s feet and yelled “Grappa Electroi Caseus Formatus!” The mint leaves caught fire in her fingers and vanished into smoke.

  The stones at the front of the tower went pale and wobbly. Eudaimonia fired off another shot, but missed as she started to sink.

  “What—?” She yanked one foot free with a sucking sound.

  A peculiar aroma drifted from the tower.

  Molly got to her knees.

  “Cheese?” said Eudaimonia. “You’ve turned stones into cheese?”

  The minions, who were mostly hiding behind the door, snickered at this. Miss Handlebram leaned around Majordomo and called, “Good for you, Molly!”

  Eudaimonia was now waist deep in a rather runny brie and Gordon had to pull her free. Molly took advantage of the distraction to set up another spell.

  “Ready, Bugbane?” she whispered.

  “Oh! Oh! Yes! Yes!” The little bat did a pirouette in midair in excitement. “Oh, I’ve been wanting to try this!”

  Molly balanced one of his hairs on her fingertip.

  “Accreus Illusus Chiropteran Accomplicia Margle Fandango!”

  “HRRAWWWW!” cried Bugbane, and turned into a dragon.

  He was . . . well, he was a very small dragon. The mass of a bat isn’t even a thousandth of the mass of a donkey. His wings looked just the same and his scales were fuzzy and he had a wrinkly little snout.

  But he took in a deep breath and shot out a little tongue of flame, like a cigarette lighter, and
took off toward Eudaimonia.

  She had just gotten one leg free of the cheese. Gordon was pulling like anything.

  Bugbane let out a great huff and set the bodyguard’s hair on fire.

  “Auuugh!”

  He dropped Eudaimonia back into the cheese. She cursed and struggled free, leaving her left shoe buried in the cheese.

  Bugbane did another bombing run, breathing fire. The smell of burned hair and grilled cheese sandwiches drifted over the meadow.

  Eudaimonia whipped her wand around and fired a shot at the dragon-bat. It clipped one of his wings and he went into a spiral.

  “Bugbane!” Molly clutched her hands to her mouth.

  He pulled up almost immediately. “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine!”

  The next shot got nowhere near him. For acrobatic flying, there is nothing in the world that can equal a bat. Bugbane danced across the sky while Eudaimonia fired bolt after bolt and frost splattered across the stones of the castle.

  Molly reached into her pocket. There was another spell she should do now—another one—to use the time that Bugbane was buying her—but she was suddenly tired. Why was she so tired?

  Another bolt of ice shot out of the tip of Eudaimonia’s wand, narrowly missing Bugbane, and a wave of exhaustion hit Molly, radiating out from the center of her chest.

  Hey!

  Hey, wait a minute!

  She’s not—she can’t be—

  She is!

  She’s taking my energy! Just like she used to! She’s fighting me with my own magic!

  All those times I let her—she must be really good at stealing it by now!

  “Hey!” yelled Molly. “Stop that! I didn’t give you permission to do that!”

  A startling emotion passed across the Sorceress’s face. Molly had never seen it there before.

  Guilt.

  Any doubt that Eudaimonia knew exactly what she was doing vanished instantly.

  “But Molly, dear,” began Eudaimonia.

  Bugbane did a last run at her. He was mostly breathing smoke now, and his scales were getting hairier. Eudaimonia swatted at him and Molly felt another tug from the center of her chest.

  “Stop that!”

  “You never used to mind,” said Eudaimonia. “And I let you be my friend. It was a fair trade.”

  “You’re not my friend!” said Molly. “You never were! And you can’t use my magic anymore!”

  She tried to picture the cord—and Eudaimonia zapped at her again. Molly had to throw herself sideways and her concentration slipped.

  I need a minute—I can’t do this if I can’t picture it—she’s going to keep zapping me—

  Molly saw a hundred dark specks suddenly diving toward the tower.

  With a furious buzz, like a hive of hornets, the Clockwork Bees struck.

  They had not enjoyed being frozen.

  Gordon took the brunt of it, slapping the Bees away, his heavy leather jacket proof against their stings. Eudaimonia shrieked and waved her hands. A small localized hailstorm formed over the tower, battering at the Bees and driving them away.

  Molly knew she couldn’t waste the moment that the Bees had bought her. She closed her eyes, bit her lower lip, and concentrated fiercely.

  She pictured the silver cord coming out of her chest—and sliced her hand down across it like a sword.

  Her whole body felt as it had gone twang.

  Eudaimonia staggered. The small hailstorm dissipated, and the Clockwork Bees were left crawling through the mint, looking confused.

  “How dare you?” yelled Eudaimonia.

  “It’s my magic!” Molly yelled back.

  Eudaimonia no longer looked like the most elegant girl in Molly’s hometown. Her hair was disheveled and as frizzy as Molly’s, and her long robes were covered in cheese. Molly climbed to her feet, feeling suddenly energized.

  I can do this. She’s not that powerful. She’s just been stealing my magic all along!

  She’d been mad before. Now she was furious.

  All this time—and all those times I tried to do magic and she laughed at me for not doing it right! I wasn’t doing it wrong! She was taking my magic away and using it herself!

  She wanted to make me fail!

  Molly remembered all the times she’d done something right, and Eudaimonia had said “Oh, very good, dear Molly,” in that tone that made you think it wasn’t very good at all.

  Every time! Every time—except when I summoned the shadow—

  Now that was an interesting thought. Unfortunately, Molly didn’t get very long to think about it.

  The Sorceress leveled the wand.

  Uh-oh—

  Angus dove between Molly and the blast of ice. Molly gasped.

  The Minotaur fell heavily, frost riming the edges of his horns . . . and then shook himself off, and stood up. He snorted.

  “Angus!”

  “M’okay,” he rumbled. “Just—just—cold. Won’t kill me.”

  “No,” called Eudaimonia, “but he might! Gordon!”

  Gordon stepped out of the tower. He was missing most of his hair and he had to fight his way through the plants choking the doorway, but he was still twice as big as Molly.

  “I’ll hold him,” Angus told her. His big teeth were chattering. Molly cringed.

  And now the other minions were coming forward. Molly wanted to yell at them to stay back, stay safe—but they clearly weren’t going to listen.

  “Is being your minions,” growled Cook. “Is fighting for you.”

  “And for Castle Hangnail,” said Serenissima. She stepped past Molly and grabbed Angus’s shoulder. The last bits of ice steamed off him, and his teeth stopped chattering.

  Eudaimonia flung another bolt of ice. Sir Edward froze in place. “My joints!” he said, sounding more annoyed than hurt. “Oooh, that tingles!”

  Angus and Gordon circled each other. Eudaimonia tilted her head back, glanced at the sun again, and gave a loud, imperious whistle. A distant, furious clucking indicated that the basilisk had heard her.

  “But—” said Molly.

  “We’ll deal with her minions,” said Majordomo. “It’s what we do. You stop her.” And he gave her a little push toward the tower.

  Chapter 48

  Eudaimonia shot another bolt of ice and Serenissima slapped it out of the air. They were definitely getting weaker.

  Gordon leaped for the Minotaur.

  Now, you may be thinking that a fight between man and Minotaur would be very one-sided, and you’d be right—but not in the way you’re thinking. Angus was huge and muscular and fierce, but he was also a farmer. He delivered calves and milked cows and threshed grain. He could lift an entire bale of hay with one hand, but he spent his time farming, not fighting.

  Gordon was smaller in every way, but he had the look of a man who had spent his life fighting. When the two of them came to blows at last, Angus was the one who staggered back, looking surprised.

  “I’ll give him vinegar!” yelled Sir Edward. “Just let me get my joints unfrozen . . .”

  Three things happened more or less simultaneously.

  The basilisk arrived.

  Gordon pulled a knife.

  Molly realized why Eudaimonia kept looking at the sun.

  The basilisk looked like an enormous scaly chicken, with dark goggles and a mouth full of sharp teeth. Like a chicken, it didn’t fly very well. It wobbled, lost height, flapped furiously, gained a little more, and then tried to glide.

  That didn’t go well.

  As it careened in for a landing, the shadow of its wings passed over Eudaimonia—and the Sorceress cringed back as if she’d been struck.

  It’s not the sun she’s scared of . . . it’s the shadows.

  That’s why she wanted to fight at high noon
!

  She’s afraid of the shadows!

  Someone must have told her about Freddy and my shadow!

  A shadow at noon is a small puddle of darkness. But a shadow at seven thirty in the morning streams off to the west. The tower’s shadow was a long black bar and Molly’s own shadow was twelve feet tall and capering at her heels.

  She never could do the shadow spell, but she knows I can. She only had me try it because she thought I’d fail at it. And I thought it was a stupid little spell and just for dancing—but Freddy Wisteria didn’t think so.

  And I have to do something.

  Gordon charged for Angus, slashing with the knife. It might have gone very badly for the Minotaur, except that Pins was underfoot and jabbed him in the ankle with a sewing needle. The bodyguard howled, his charge interrupted, and hopped on one foot.

  The basilisk aimed a kick at Majordomo, hissing and clucking, and the old minion ducked out of the way. Molly caught a glimpse of Miss Handlebram approaching it from behind, carrying her hat and a determined expression.

  Eudaimonia lifted her wand again.

  Molly squeezed her eyes shut and recited:

  “Shanks and shadows— up and down— inner and outer and magic unbound!”

  Her shadow yawned and stood up.

  It was very tall in the stretching morning light. It flexed its long hands and slipped into the tower’s shadow, and then it was taller yet.

  Molly’s chest fizzed again.

  If I looked for the silver cord now, what would I see? Would it be going to the shadow?

  Eudaimonia took a step back. The expression on her face was suddenly much less confident and a lot more scared.

  “You can’t have remembered that spell! You weren’t supposed to be able to do it! It’s too dangerous!”

  “You never told me it was dangerous,” said Molly. “You just wanted to see me fail.”

  The shadow slithered past Molly’s feet. Her heart was hammering in her chest.

  I have to command it. I have to tell it what to do.

  “Break her wand,” croaked Molly.