Then she laughed. ‘You should see the ugly plastic things they sell in fancy-dress shops!’ She handed the wand back to Weava. ‘I’m sure you’d love to help Jemima with the party decorations, dear?’
Merry cleared her throat. ‘Actually, Mrs James, my sister has a lot of—um— homework.’
‘Oh, but it’s the holidays!’ said Mrs James. ‘Every child deserves to have some fun in the holidays, Mary. That’s why I started my children’s party business.’ She smiled. ‘Off you go, girls.’
Weava grabbed Jemima’s hand and scurried out the door before Merry could stop her.
‘Mum’s mean,’ said Jemima, as she showed Weava into her flat. ‘She keeps talking about fun, but look at these!’ She pointed to a pile of black plastic bats. ‘I’ve got to thread them on strings and take them all up to the loft. And then I have to spread out a whole lot of straw.’ She sighed.
Weava had an idea. ‘If I cast spells without Merry seeing, she won’t know I’ve done a bad deed until it’s too late,’ she said. ‘And if your mother’s party goes badly, that might stop her from having any more.’
‘It might,’ said Jemima. ‘But what could make it go badly?’
Weava smiled. ‘Having a real witchling there, for starters!’
8. Merry Snaps
Weava lifted her wand. ‘Come to me, kit-fae!’ she said.
The kit-fae appeared through the open window of Mrs James’s flat. ‘What?’ it said, staring at the plastic bats.
‘I have a bad idea for Mrs James’s Halloween party,’ said Weava.
‘Weava’s going to make the party go wrong,’ said Jemima. ‘It will be so bad, Mum will never have another one.’
‘And Merry will have to cast a spell to undo all the trouble I’m going to cause,’ said Weava.
‘That is a bad deed,’ said the kit-fae.
Weava poked her wand in the pile of bats. ‘Off you go to the loft,’ she said.
To Jemima’s delight, the plastic bats rose in a black cloud and flapped out of the flat and up the stairs. Weava, Jemima and the kit-fae followed.
The loft was huge. It was piled with pumpkins, hay, apples, cauldrons and wooden tubs. There were long tables, and cans of spray-on cobwebs.
‘Right,’ said Weava, ‘let’s get started.’ She showed Jemima how to carve jack-o’-lanterns carefully. Then she waved her wand at the light bulbs, and flicked it at the plastic bats.
‘Nothing’s happening,’ said Jemima.
‘These are lie-in-wait-spells,’ said Weava. ‘It will all look normal until the party starts. I can’t do right-now-spells. Your mother would notice too soon.’
‘Oooh,’ said Jemima. ‘Can I have a sneak-peek at what will happen?’
Weava flicked her wand at the jack-o’-lanterns. ‘Go!’ she said.
The first jack-o’-lantern began to rock. Then it opened its slit of a mouth and gave a hollow laugh. ‘Ho! Ho! Ho!’ it chuckled. It rolled its empty eyes towards Jemima and started to jiggle.
Another lantern let out a spurt of smelly smoke and bobbed up and down. Shadowy little legs shot out and the lantern marched towards Jemima, pulling faces as it came.
Weava laughed as Jemima squealed and jumped out of the way. ‘See how scared the kids will be at the party?’ she said.
‘Look out, witchling!’ said the kit-fae. ‘Your sister’s coming!’
Weava froze.
The trapdoor to the loft burst open and Merry appeared. ‘Weava!’ she snapped.
She stalked over to Weava and snatched the wand from her hand. ‘I told you, no more nonsense!’ she said in an odd tight voice. ‘But you wouldn’t listen, would you?’
Weava held her breath as Merry gripped the wand. Was Merry cross enough to do a spell?
But Merry continued, ‘You just can’t behave. Well, I’m going to stop your mischief. I should have done this the day you came.’
Breathing hard, Merry held the wand in both hands. Then she bent and snapped it over her knee, again and again.
She threw the bits on the floor and stalked out of the loft.
The jack-o’-lanterns fell with a soggy thud and lay still.
9. Where’s That Wand?
Weava sat down. Two fat tears ran down her cheeks and she let out an angry sob.
Jemima swallowed. ‘Can you mend your wand?’ she asked.
‘No,’ said Weava.
The kit-fae fluttered to sit on Weava’s shoulder. It rubbed its furry face on her chin. ‘It’s all right, witchling,’ it said.
‘It’s not!’ said Weava.
‘Will the spells still work?’ asked Jemima.
Weava shook her head. ‘Not without my wand to set them off.’
‘That’s that, then,’ said Jemima. She was so disappointed, she could barely speak, but she added, ‘Never mind, Weava. You did your best.’
‘I was trying to do my worst,’ said Weava. ‘Merry spoiled it.’ Her chin wobbled and a tear ran down her nose. ‘I’ll never get to the Abademy now she’s spoiled my big bad deed. And I’ve lost my wand, too.’
‘Can you get a new one?’ said Jemima. She handed Weava her handkerchief.
Weava blew her nose and thought for a moment. ‘No,’ she said slowly, ‘but maybe I can get an old one.’ She set off towards the door.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Jemima.
‘I’m going to get Merry’s old wand. I brought it with me from home. All I have to do is get it out of her pocket.’
*
Weava and the kit-fae spent the next two days trying to steal Merry’s wand, but Merry was ready for them. She sewed a button on her pocket, making it hard to pick. And she wore her dress all the time, even to bed.
But Merry didn’t forbid Weava to go to the party. She even organised the games.
‘What’s Merry up to?’ Weava asked the kit-fae at breakfast on Friday morning.
‘She thinks she’s won,’ said the fetch, nibbling on a rasher of bacon. ‘She’s smashed your wand, so you can’t do spells. She thinks if you can’t do spells, there’s nothing to worry about.’
‘I wish I could get my hands on her wand,’ said Weava. ‘But there’s no way to get it out of her pocket.’
‘You’ll have to try something else,’ said the kit-fae.
‘I do have one idea,’ said Weava. ‘I’m going to write some invitations and invite some friends to Mrs James’s party.’
‘Who?’ asked the fetch.
‘It’s a surprise,’ said Weava.
When Weava had written and delivered all her invitations, she went looking for Jemima. She found her in the loft, blowing up black balloons.
‘I didn’t get Merry’s wand,’ Weava said, ‘but everything’s going to be all right. Remember your mother said to invite everybody? Well, I have.’
‘Who’s everybody?’ asked Jemima.
Weava giggled. ‘You’ll see. Just don’t be scared when they arrive.’ She climbed out of the loft and down the stairs to Number 13.
She arrived just as Merry dumped a box of Candywaft bottles outside the front door.
Merry smiled sweetly at Weava. ‘Looking forward to the party?’ she said.
Weava smiled back just as sweetly. ‘Oh yes,’ she said.
10. Party Time
‘Party time, girls!’ Mrs James called gaily, as she hung up strings of plastic spiders in the loft on Friday afternoon. ‘Jemima, do put on a costume! I’ve bought you some lovely ones.’
‘No,’ said Jemima.
Mrs James threw up her hands in frustration. She was about to say something else when Merry climbed into the loft. ‘Oh, hello, Mary!’ she said. ‘Give a goodie bag to every child. Remember, there’s a prize for the best costume.’
Merry looked anxiously around the cluttered loft. ‘Calm down,’ she muttered to herself. ‘These bats and cauldrons and witch hats are only pretend. The guests will be children in fancy dress. Weava, for once, will not look out of place. And nothing bad can happen at this party because Weava doesn�
�t have a wand.’
‘Here we go,’ said Mrs James, as the clock struck five. On cue, the trapdoor creaked open and two little boys dressed as Dracula came in. Three girls in pink fairy costumes followed, and soon the room was crowded with children dressed as witches, ghosts, robots and fairies.
Mrs James soon had some of them bobbing for apples, while Merry handed out goodie bags and organised games.
Spooky music played from Mrs James’s sound system. Children yelled and laughed. The loft smelt of sweet food, face paints and straw.
Jemima backed into a corner. ‘This is awful,’ she complained to Weava. ‘Mum’s got that green wig on again! If only Merry hadn’t broken your wand.’
‘It will be all right,’ said Weava.
‘This is disgraceful, witchling,’ the kit-fae said in Weava’s ear. ‘How dare these humans make fun of fairy-breed ways? That woman has a fake fruit drink in a witch’s cauldron! It would serve her right if I turned it into a potion.’
‘Remember the rules,’ said Weava. ‘I have to do the bad deed, or I won’t get my Badge of Badness and a place at the Abademy.’
The kit-fae sniffed. ‘You’ll have to think of something quickly,’ it said. ‘The hags won’t wait forever.’
‘It will be all right!’ said Weava again. She really, really hoped that was true.
The clock struck six, and Weava crossed her fingers. She waited…
And then a cream cake flew out of nowhere and hit her in the face.
11. Hubbub
Weava wiped cream off her chin. ‘Who threw that?’ she asked.
The kit-fae went to investigate.
‘There’s a troll in that barrel,’ it said when it returned. ‘It says you invited it.’
Weava sighed happily. The invitations she had delivered had got into the right hands.
The troll grinned up at Weava as she peeped into the barrel. ‘Good party, witchling,’ it said, and hurled a cake at a passing pixie.
‘Thanks for the invitation,’ said the pixie. She darted to where a little boy was bobbing for apples and dropped a snail down his shirt.
Weava saw three spooks drift through the skylights, and spotted some goblins eating apples in the corner. Under the long trestle table, she found nine small imps playing pass-the-parcel with a giggling lizard-fae.
Everywhere she looked, she saw fairy-breed.
‘It’s working!’ she said to herself.
Jemima was passing by. ‘What is?’ she asked.
‘My bad deed! I took invitations to all the places where the fairy-breed live.
Lots have come. They’ll scare the humans and Merry will have to do something about it. Um…where is Merry?’
‘She and Mum went to bring up more food for the party,’ Jemima said. She looked around. ‘Nobody looks scared to me,’ she added.
‘They will be once they see the goblins.’ Weava pointed. ‘See? There’s one.’
‘What, that boy dressed as a vampire?’
‘No, the lumpy one at the table. And there’s a troll behind that barrel.’
Jemima looked behind the barrel. ‘No, there isn’t.’
Suddenly, Weava realised what was wrong. She crawled under the table. ‘Take your DNM spells off,’ she said to the imps. ‘Pass the word about.’
‘Oooh, can we?’ said the pixie girl who had spoken to Weava earlier. She squealed with delight and took off her DNM spell, then chased after two spooks. The message flashed around and all the fairy-breed removed their DNM spells.
Jemima stared as two trolls began a food fight. ‘This is brilliant!’ she said to Weava. ‘Just wait until Mum notices! She’ll never hold another party!’
She giggled as a goblin stuffed a whole pie into his mouth. ‘Nice manners!’ she said. Then she glanced up at the ceiling. ‘Oh look…there’s another kit-fae!’ she said, pointing.
Weava looked up among the fairy lights. The kit-fae was perched beside a creature that looked like a cosy tabby cat with wings. As she watched, the tabby-fae flew to land by her feet.
‘Hello, witchling,’ it purred. ‘I hear you are trying for a Badge of Badness.
It is an honour to be a part of your big bad deed.’ It sauntered off, and rubbed its body around the legs of a little girl nearby. The girl stumbled and dropped her drink all over her costume.
‘Thanks, tabby-fae,’ said Weava.
A boggart jumped out of the applebobbing tub and splashed over to Weava. ‘Grand party, witchling,’ it said. Then it noticed a small boy staring at it. ‘Boo!’ the boggart roared.
The boy staggered back and sat in a sponge cake.
The boggart giggled until it rolled around on the floor.
All the children at the party began looking over their shoulders and backing away. Soon they were shuffling towards the door.
Just then, Mrs James arrived with a tray of pumpkin pies. A troll barged up and seized three pies.
Mrs James was knocked off balance. ‘Careful, dear,’ she said, trying to steady the tray.
The troll grabbed more, and a spook floated down to catch the crumbs.
Mrs James gasped. ‘C-calm down, children!’ she cried, but the real children were too frightened to listen and the fairy-breed ignored her.
Weava danced through a cloud of bats.
The kit-fae turned somersaults in the air. ‘Brilliant, witchling!’ it yowled. ‘The hags are bound to award you a Badge of Badness for this!’
Weava spotted Merry at the entrance to the loft. She ran over to her sister. ‘Isn’t this the best Halloween party ever?’ she said.
Merry went pale. ‘But I broke your wand!’ She patted her pocket with both hands. ‘And mine is still in my pocket.’
‘I know,’ said Weava. ‘I managed to make this party magic even without a wand.’ She looked up. ‘It’s time you gave up trying to make me live like a human.’
Merry said nothing.
‘Well?’ said Weava, raising her voice above the hubbub.
‘Weava…you don’t know what you’re doing!’ Merry cried. ‘Look at all these little monsters!’ she moaned. ‘And those trolls are letting off stink bombs!’ she added as a dirty yellow cloud of smells rolled across the loft. ‘Send them away, Weava!’
Weava folded her arms. ‘If you don’t like them, Merry, you send them away.’
‘I can’t!’ cried Merry. ‘They won’t listen!’
‘Well,’ said Weava. ‘You’ll just have to get your wand out of your pocket.’
Merry went whiter than ever. She turned and dashed to the trapdoor and out of the loft. The next minute, a hideous noise clattered and yammered through the building.
The tabby-fae watched Merry leave. It blinked once, and then flew out of the skylight, away into the night.
‘That noise is the fire alarm!’ cried Jemima.
Merry returned and herded children down the ladder that led out of the loft. ‘Hold hands and head to the entrance hall,’ she said. ‘Be careful. Don’t run.’
‘Whatever’s going on?’ asked Mrs James, swatting at a bat. ‘What’s that smell? Mary, did you sound the fire alarm?’
‘Yes,’ said Merry. ‘Didn’t you smell gas? It was so strong that it was making us see things. I think there might be a leak.’
‘Nonsense!’ said Mrs James. She gazed at the goblins. ‘What are those rowdy children doing here? I don’t recognise them.’
Merry didn’t answer. Instead, she took Mrs James by the arm. ‘The children were babbling about monsters!’ she said. ‘It must be gas.’ Then she grabbed hold of Jemima with her free hand and steered Mrs James and her daughter downstairs. Mrs James protested all the way.
Brimstone Buildings emptied within minutes as people spilt out of the flats and down the stairs. Soon all the humans and most of the fairy-breed had left the loft.
‘Where is everyone?’ asked a goblin.
A troll launched another stink bomb. ‘Them pixies and elves can’t stand a good stink,’ it said. Then it laughed and looked about
. ‘Well, there’s no fun to be had now, witchling,’ it added. ‘No humans left to scare. Guess we’ll be off.’ It grinned at Weava and put on its DNM spell.
‘I’m off, too,’ said the goblin. It whistled shrilly and two more goblins and six boggarts grabbed fistfuls of cheese from the tables and clattered down the steps.
Weava and the kit-fae were the only ones left.
Weava’s lip quivered. Her face crumpled and she began to cry. ‘All that, and Merry still didn’t do a spell,’ she sobbed. ‘It’s no use. She’s still acting like a human. I won’t get my Badge of Badness, will I?’
The kit-fae looked at her sadly. ‘I’m afraid not, witchling,’ it said. ‘But I can talk to the hags. Maybe they’ll let you start again with a new bad deed.’
‘No, they won’t,’ said Weava. ‘I’ll never get to the Abademy now. And I haven’t got my sister back, either.’
12. Merry Explains
The fire brigade arrived, and big men in helmets and uniforms stormed up to the loft with fire extinguishers and hoses.
Parents flocked to the steps of Brimstone Buildings and left quickly with their nervous children.
Mrs James protested that a silly young woman had imagined a gas leak and panicked. No one listened to her.
Eventually, the fire chief returned. ‘We couldn’t detect smoke,’ he said.
‘I never said there was any,’ said Mrs James. ‘I didn’t sound the alarm. It was that stupid Mary Charm who wasted your time and spoiled my party.’
‘There is a smell of gas, however,’ said the chief. ‘The person who sounded the alarm acted properly. You were the careless one for holding a party in a loft.’
‘Oh, fiddle,’ said Mrs James. ‘We have a fire escape.’ She tailed off and stared at the fire chief. ‘I really like your uniforms! Is it possible to get them in child sizes? I think my next party will have a fireman theme! It can include a fire drill and…’ Still babbling, she turned away.
Weava the Wilful Witch Page 3
