Seriously Hexed

by Tina Connolly

  To Mr. Kapoor’s credit, he seemed to think the looks and giggles were punishment enough. He returned the phone at the end of English, telling me politely to silence it from now on.

  I obeyed immediately, and then hurried out the door. The texts read:

  my mom got the sign

  “yon doom striketh at noon! be prepared!”

  stupid witches and their ye olde nonsense

  I’m going home for lunch

  moral support and all

  you should stay and take your am hist quiz

  So there we were. At noon, Lily would be prepared to have nothing happen to her and that would be that. Poppy could handle it—she had probably left already. I shouldn’t intrude, even if I wanted. Maybe they could mend fences. Life was on the verge of going back to normal, and that was what I wanted, wasn’t it? A normal girl. A normal world.

  And I could round up a tutu and sit with twenty Kit Kat kids, or by myself.

  * * *

  “There are many different ways to take political action,” explained Jenah to a table of twenty Kit Kat kids and me. I wondered if all those Kit Kats had A lunch or if half of them were skipping. “First I tried showing the principal some facts and figures. I did it in a quiet setting where he wouldn’t feel put on the spot. He had the chance to see that he had made a bad ruling and choose to reverse it.”

  “What did he do?” said Olivia.

  “You know what he said? Some absolute nonsense about how I have a duty to not distract the boys. Me! I do not have any such duty. They have a duty to give me a good education, and I have the right to get it.”

  “Amen,” said Olivia.

  “Say the word and I’ll draw you a cartoon about it,” said Henny.

  “Her cartoons are the best,” said a cute Kit Kat boy sitting next to her. Henny blushed.

  “Yes, please,” said Jenah. “I’m sorry, but if you act like you live in 1952 you’re going to get called on it.”

  “The times, they are a-changing,” sang Bryan and Bobby.

  “And by and large for the better,” said Jenah. “Well, he had his chance to go easy.”

  I was feeling a little worried on his behalf. “Jenah. What are you doing now?”

  She smiled wickedly at me. “We go big,” she said.

  “When protesters march at the capitol, they go big,” said Henny. “The biggest crowd. The flashiest getups. My grandmother, the governor, said her Secret Service people once had to whisk her through a crowd of fifty senior citizens dressed as T. rexes.”

  “And their point was…?”

  “We are having a dance-off to protest the dress code,” said Jenah. “Friday morning, twenty minutes before school starts.”

  “You are totally invited,” said Bryan.

  “Bring your friends,” said Bobby.

  “Oh, boys, don’t bother Camellia,” said Jenah. “She has bigger fish to fry.” This was said in such a light and airy tone that I couldn’t tell if she had forgiven me or was being sarcastic. “The Kit Kat Krew has it under control.”

  A table of theater kids grinned at me. I admit, I maybe felt a teensy-weensy-whole-lot excluded.

  “I suppose you’re right,” I said shortly. It certainly wasn’t like I could discuss my witch life problems with them around all the time, anyway. I stood up. “Send me a letter and tell me how it all goes down.”

  * * *

  I took my lunch and found my quiet spot in the hedge. Pulled out the floppy disk, unpaused it, and commanded it to play. The holo was still white.

  Right. Something had happened after Wulfie—perhaps Sarmine was forced into an epic witch battle with Ingrid. Well, I didn’t have any better way to spend my lunch. The white light could play and play. I wasn’t going to turn it off if there was the slightest chance of learning something.

  My wait was rewarded. The white was replaced by our basement, yet again, and Sarmine in a ruffled salmon shirt and pencil skirt, drawing a blue pentagram. Who was she summoning now? She dragged a mannequin in a red shirt into the pentagram, and suddenly my face flushed and I went hot all over, the blood pounding hard in my chest.

  I knew this episode. I was about to be very foolish. The shame of it, of watching myself, flooded me. There I was—could it be only four months ago? Standing on the floor, yelling at Sarmine that pigs were living beings too.

  “Don’t drip on my pentagram,” Sarmine said icily.

  I watched myself do a double take, then scoot back. The mix of emotions on my face—anger, confusion, et cetera—would be hilarious if they weren’t so mortifying. Had I ever been that young and stupid? And since I obviously had, how come it wasn’t longer ago and safely tucked in the past. Ugh, I hated watching myself.

  Sarmine started working the spell to summon the demon. Now that I had heard Poppy talk about the theory, I recognized what she had said about working in N-space. Sarmine did seem to be concentrating on something she couldn’t see. More spell, and then at last, in a rush of blue smoke, the demon Estahoth appeared in the pentagram.

  I paused the recording. I knew what happened next and I couldn’t bear to watch. I had brought Sarmine cow’s blood instead of goat’s blood for the spell. The mannequin failed to hold him. He rushed into me, and then, when I pushed him out, he went straight into Devon. Surely I didn’t have to sit through all of this just to see my mistakes over and over again.

  And yet I sighed and told the disk to resume. I couldn’t turn away now.

  The demon finally ran out the door with Devon, Sarmine swept coldly after him, and Past Cam sank to the floor to begin the unappreciated task of scrubbing out the pentagram. I told the recording to speed up times two, then times ten. The video kept playing while I scrubbed and scrubbed, and then swept the floor, and et cetera, et cetera. It was like Sarmine had figured out a way to punish me twice; first by making me do it, and second by making me watch it all over again.

  At long last, Past Cam finished and went upstairs.

  I slowed the recording down, watching. All was silent for five, ten minutes. With my luck, this disk was going to be entirely filled with me scrubbing the floor, and then floor, which was like the most boring video in the history of the universe.

  Suddenly, Sarmine returned—still wearing that atrocious salmon shirt. Same day. She looked directly at the holo and said, “That wasn’t what I intended, but will this be the thing to break you? We shall see.” The picture went white; the scene ended.

  Ugh. I leaned back, heart racing.

  The holo was still white. I ate my sandwich, disheartened. Last October wasn’t her last major spell, was it? In that case, did anything I’d seen have bearing on the case? Sure, the Wulfie bit was interesting, but come on. If that was the end, then I’d watched the entire holo and had nothing. Should I ditch school and play the whole thing again, more slowly, and look for clues? It was too bad I couldn’t show it to Poppy—maybe she would see something clever I had missed.

  And then the light rippled and Sarmine was standing in front of me.

  She was in her workshop in the basement, holding a cardboard box. The same cardboard box she had produced during the coven, the one with Malkin’s lamp in it. Was this a recording of the coven? No, it was in the basement workshop. It must be before the coven. Use your brain, Cam.

  Sarmine carefully set the box on the floor. She drew a pentagram around it.

  I sat back and hissed.

  Sarmine knew what was in that box, or at least suspected it might be dangerous. She was being incredibly cautious.

  She cut the tape and, with gloved hands, began to sift through the packing material. Then she stopped, rocked back on her heels. She hissed. She closed her eyes, her face blank. I could not tell what she was thinking, and she did not conveniently voice her thoughts to the empty basement. A pang hit me, realizing she had narrated less and less on the recording over the years. So different than her cheerful narration to Dad in the first few scenes.

  Hands steady, Sarmine lifted the lamp from the po
pcorn. She placed it next to the box and stared it down. I could fill in her thoughts this time: All right, Malkin. Let’s see what you’ve got.

  She breathed once, stripped the gloves from her hands, and picked up the lamp.

  Yellow smoke. Rainbow light. Darkness.

  The demon poured out of the spout. His rainbow of colors filled the pentagram to the ceiling, a tower of light and flame. “Who has called me from the lamp?” he shouted. His voice rang at full volume in my ears—strange that nobody else could hear it. It was sepulchral, booming—the voice of a true elemental.

  Sarmine is nothing if not brave. In a calm voice she said, “I am Sarmine Scarabouche. I trust Malkin has required you to do something horrible to me?”

  A face formed, fire in its eyes. “Where is she? Is she here?”

  “She is dead,” said Sarmine.

  The rainbow light and flame died away. In its place was a small, hobbity sort of fellow, standing inside the pentagram with a profound expression of relief. “Oh, thank goodness,” the demon said. “She is absolutely the worst. She called me and made me do all kinds of work and then she and her friends stuffed me in this lamp to do one last thing. I had no idea how long I’d be stuck in here. She cheated me out of a body, too.” He sniffed.

  “What is your name?” said Sarmine.

  He drew himself up. “Hudzeth, demon of the fifteenth layer,” he said. “I am … not a very powerful demon, I admit. That’s why she got the better of me.” He eyed Sarmine. “Well, come on. I’ve got one last thing to do before I can be free, so I’d better get started.”

  Sarmine looked down her nose at him. “And your ‘one last thing’ is…?”

  “Take you to Jim.”

  16

  A Bargain with a Demon

  Sarmine went white, absolutely white, and she sat down hard. I felt the same, and was glad I was already sitting. “You mean he’s—But why would she—” She stopped, composed her face, and tried again. “Why would Malkin arrange that?”

  “Ah,” said the demon, “It’s not like she’s arranged for you to return or anything. It’s a one-way trip.”

  “You mean…”

  He laughed. “Not that. I don’t deal in euphemisms for death. I’d tell you straight up if that’s what she ordered. Now look—what year is this?”

  Sarmine told him.

  He whistled. “Time does not fly when you’re stuck in a lamp. So, about thirty years ago, Malkin summoned me. She was looking for a shifter and I couldn’t provide her one. Every couple of years she’d call me back and see if I could help her locate one. Well, it got to be as how I started practicing. And then I could see them, kind of glowing out there. But by then I’d figured I didn’t want to hand one over to her—I didn’t trust her, see? Us demons share stories. I could tell she wasn’t ever going to seal the deal by giving me a body, and I didn’t want to get into any trouble I couldn’t get out of. So I kept putting her off. I dunno why she didn’t try for someone more powerful. I guess I amused her. She made fun of how pathetic I was. But, every time, I’d learn things about the human world, and that made me more popular at home. So I kept coming back.

  “But I got careless. She figured out what I wanted, over the years. My dream. And one day I accidentally let slip that I knew where a particular shifter was she was looking for. I clammed right up, but I know she went and … did something to them. Whatever happened, it did not make her happy.”

  I swallowed. Had the demon accidentally led Malkin to Leo’s mom? That might have been around the time my dad had helped her escape into hiding.

  “It was shortly after that that she called me, ranting about some coven. A witch and some shifter types were trying to upset her applecart.”

  “Jim,” whispered Sarmine. “And the leaders of each of the remaining Sentient Magical groups. They disappeared shortly after he did—but they said they were going into hiding; they said not to contact them—”

  “That’s them all right. The mermaid, the werewolf, and the Bigfoot.”

  “And then what?” said Sarmine. I could hear the danger in her tone.

  So could the demon. He flowed backwards. “You, uh, remind me of Malkin when you get that expression,” he said.

  “And then what did you do?”

  “It’s not my fault! She brought me my dearest wish! She kidnapped this up-and-coming rock star boy and dumped him in the pentagram with me—mine for the taking! What would you have done?”

  “Hudzeth. What. Did. You. Do?”

  The hobbity figure shrunk in on itself. “Something pretty awful,” he admitted. I could see him sneaking peeks to see how Sarmine was taking this, which was not well. “They’re all still alive, though. I can take you to them.”

  Hope. “Can you bring him back? I mean, bring them back?”

  “One-way oubliette. In the demon realms.”

  Sarmine sucked in air. “That’s why I couldn’t find him. He isn’t on earth to be found.”

  The demon raised his hands. “I did what I could! I made them a little pocket. It’s not too hot, and I was able to slow time for them.”

  “Mermaid, werewolf, and Bigfoot,” said Sarmine, ticking them off. “Mélusine, Roberto, and Ed Quatch. Not in hiding after all.” Sarmine bit her fingernail, considering. “So if the four of them are there, then why isn’t your contract done and you can go home?”

  “Ah, that’s the interesting part. It’s, uh, not over. I can’t break the contract I made, you know. I have to finish it out. Even though she tricked me—the rock star had such an ego I couldn’t take him over. He dumped me right back in the pentagram and that was that.”

  “You are the worst at making deals ever,” said Sarmine. “Well, what does the rest of your contract say?”

  Hudzeth pressed himself against the other side of the pentagram, away from Sarmine’s wrath. “That I have to take you and anybody else in the coven who ever stood up for the rights of Sentient Magicals to join them. In the oubliette of fire.”

  Sarmine stood and paced around the basement for several minutes while the demon looked hopefully in her direction. She stopped and looked at him.

  He said, “So, uh, you’ll come along like a good witch, then? I can fulfill my contract and go home?”

  She snorted. Then paced some more. The demon deflated. I simultaneously felt sorry for him and wanted to smack him.

  Finally, Sarmine stopped. She had reached a decision. She turned to the demon and said simply, “What will it take for you to make a bargain with me?”

  “I’m listening,” the demon said cautiously.

  “You’re a ticking time bomb,” she said. “If I don’t go with you now, then someday someone will pick up that lamp without a pentagram around it and you’ll come out and get me. Right?”

  “Right.”

  She rubbed her eyes. “And anyway, if there’s a chance I can save Jim, I have to take it.” She started pacing again. “I just hope Camellia will understand.… I can’t tell her before I go, because I know Claudette is a skilled mind reader.… I have a shield, but Camellia doesn’t.…” She stopped. “What I need you to do is buy me time. Can you do that?”

  “How much time?”

  “A week, maybe?”

  Hudzeth shook his head. “The compulsion to finish my contract is getting stronger, now that I’m out of the lamp. I can’t wait that long. I can give you twenty-four hours.”

  She pursed her lips. “Not much time to find ingredients or make any kind of a plan.…” She looked directly at the camera then. I leaned back, my heart rate picking up. “You understand, I would need a lot of teleportation ingredients to bring everyone home,” Sarmine said very clearly in my direction. “More than I have in my stores.” I nodded back at her, even though she couldn’t see me. I had the message loud and clear.

  “Sounds logical,” agreed the demon.

  Sarmine turned back to him. “Twenty-four hours is just enough time to summon the coven. We need to figure out who did this, because it wasn’
t just Malkin. She had help.” She shook her head. “There are so many terrible witches in that coven. Which ones were involved?”

  He shrugged. “It was dark. They were masked. Also, it was thirteen years ago, and though some people might sit and dwell on their traitors for thirteen years, I’ve been writing songs. Do you want to hear one? It goes—”

  “No no no no no,” said Sarmine, “Thank you very much.” She sighed. “Can you keep the others occupied for a while? The ones that you aren’t going to send to the oubliette?”

  “I can,” he said. “But I will need something for it.”

  “Letting you out isn’t enough?”

  “Look, lady, I disappear you and your allies and then I’m out of this lamp for good. I can go home, I can angle to get called by a better witch.…”

  “Not if I lock up your lamp in a pentagram and let you sit here.”

  “You want me to do a lot of work,” he said. “Keep a whole bunch of angry witches occupied? When some of them put me here in the first place?”

  “Giving you a body is outside of my ethics,” she said. I was rather surprised to hear that Sarmine had any ethics at all.

  The demon stood there, a stubborn, waiting hobbit.

  Finally, she sighed. “Look,” she said. “Let me think about this for a minute. I think I have an idea, but…” She looked directly at me—no, not at me, at the camera. She crossed to it, her hand raised up—the screen went black. The floppy disk made a whirring noise and stopped. The recording was over, this time for real.

  My blood pounded in my head. That was the missing piece, the tangle in the web.

  There were two spells going on, not one.

  Malkin had ordered Hudzeth to take a bunch of good people to the demon realms. And Sarmine had asked Hudzeth to hex a bunch of bad witches. Keep them occupied while she tried to figure out how to rescue everyone. She had waited, pretended to open the box for the first time at the coven, so the bad witches would see her vanish and think it was working as it was supposed to.