The Ondine Collection

by Ebony McKenna

  “You’ve overdone it,” Ondine said, not daring to put her bare hands anywhere near the boiling water.

  “Sorry, must have had a senior moment. You know how it is. Or you will one day, at any rate.”

  “Don’t worry about the water, I can always add some cold. How about you focus on zapping the power back on?” Ondine asked.

  “You think I didn’t think of that?” Old Col shot back, but judging by the guilty look on her face, she most likely hadn’t.

  Oh dear, maybe she really was having a senior moment.

  Old Col held her hands towards the window and flickered her fingers, chanting under her breath.

  “The window?” Ondine wondered why she aimed her magic that way.

  “I’m gunning for the power supply on the corner pole,” she said, wiggling her fingers afresh. She sang words under her breath and the lights came on in the kitchen.

  “Yay!” Ondine said. The lights flickered on and off, then crackled and snapped out. The smell of burnt elements filled the room. “Oh dear,” Ondine said, feeling terrible for her great-auntie.

  “This isn’t one of our regular winter blackouts,” Col said. “There’s magic behind this loss of power, I guarantee it. Only the witch that made a curse can break it.” [219]

  “I bet Lord Vincent’s behind this,” Ondine said.

  “Don’t be so content to pick the low-hanging fruit,” Old Col arched her brow.

  “Who else could it be?”

  “Oh, I agree, Ondi, it most likely is Vincent, but he’s not magic, so someone else is doing his magic for him.”

  With a sigh, Ondine guessed, “Mrs Howser?”

  “There you go again.”

  Ondine grew frustrated. “Yeah, but I bet it is her.”

  Old Col creased her mouth in thought, then said, “Low-hanging fruit or not, I think you might be right.”

  A sheen of perspiration glistened on Ma’s brow as she carried a stack of dirty plates from the dining room towards Ondine’s sink.

  “After we’re done here, tell me everything the Duchess said. And Aunt Col? Josef needs a hand at the bar.”

  At that point, the lights in the restaurant suddenly came on again. Instead of popping out like they had in the kitchen – which was still dark – these stayed on. A cheer floated in from the dining room.

  “Better late than never,” Ma said as she wiped her hands on a tea towel. “How many more meals do you have to go, Chef?”

  Henrik looked up. “This is the last one.”

  “Typical!” Ma threw her hands up and let out a frustrated sigh.

  EXHAUSTED FROM THE enormous night before, Ondine didn’t wake until nearly ten o’clock on Christmas Day. In normal circumstances she’d be mad keen to open her presents. Instead, she luxuriated in the warmth of her bed and the serenity of Cybelle not being in the bed next to her, snoring up a storm.

  Every few years the family closed the pub for Christmas Day so they could have a slodgy-slow day as a family. Considering they’d closed for Margi’s wedding, then been forced to close in respect to Pavla, Ma was grabbing any opportunity to get customers. Unfortunately, they were still short-staffed because Margi and Thomas hadn’t returned from their honeymoon.

  “There’s a pile of dishes with your name on it,” Cybelle said as Ondine made her way to the kitchen by eleven.

  Blurble went her tummy.

  “Just kidding!” Cybelle said, “Have some sausages and marmalade. That’ll perk you up.”

  “Thanks.” Ondine inhaled the food on her plate. Only after she licked her fingers did she spare a thought for anyone else. “How many are out there?”

  “Only twelve for brunch. Practically doing it in our sleep,” Henrik said, looking so tired he might still be asleep.

  “Merry Christmas Ondi,” Hamish said as he came back in with empty water jugs to refill. She beamed at him and returned the greeting. Then they had a little smooch and didn’t care that there were other people around.

  Ma filled her arms with plates of food to take out. “Hamish, could you grab the dessert menus for me?”

  “Dessert? For brunch?” Ondine boggled.

  “It’s Christmas!” Ma said.

  Desserts were the most profitable items on the menu. Small serves, high prices.

  “I’ll tempt them Missers G,” Hamish said with a wink.

  “Be careful,” Ondine said.

  “Of what, lass?”

  “The work inspectors,” she said.

  “Ye really think they’d be working on Christmas Day?”

  “We are.” Ondine couldn’t help grumbling.

  SURE IT WAS CHRISTMAS, but for the de Groot family, it was another workday to get through. Nothing remotely interesting happened until they’d seen off the last of the lunch crowd and were taking a breather in the private room before first dinner began. [220]

  Da walked in with his arms full of take-away food. “Merry Christmas all!” he said, handing out hot boxes with sauce dripping out the sides.

  “What’s this?”

  “Noodles from Fang’s.”

  “I thought they’d closed.” Ondine remembered the night when their staff had been hauled away.

  “They’re only making it look like that, so the inspectors don’t come back. Dig in, smells delicious.”

  “Merry Christmas Ondi,” Hamish said, handing her a book-shaped present.

  She tore the wrapper off and grinned. The second book in the series about Elmaree.

  Oooh, the sequel. I’m going to love it. Here, this is for you.” She handed him the little box wrapped with a flat bow. Not a frilly bow, because that would be too girly and she didn’t want to embarrass him. Her breath stalled as she watched him open it. The little voice in her head said, I hope he likes it, I hope he likes it.

  “It’s brilliant,” Hamish said as he took the broad silver ring from the box and held it. For a second Ondine wondered if he noticed the inscription she’d agonised over. Did it say too little? Did it say too much? Would he wear it?

  In silent answer, Hamish slipped the ring on the last finger on his right hand, then he whispered the same words she’d inscribed on the ring. “You have my heart.”

  “What does it say?” Ma asked with a complete lack of tact.

  “Something that means the world to me,” Hamish said giving Ondine one of his heart-meltingly lopsided smiles.

  They tucked into their food, a happy mood settling over them. Ondine saw how relaxed Cybelle looked and figured this might be the best chance they had to raise the issue that had been niggling at her.

  “Belle, how are the keyboard covers going?” Because her mother heard everything, Ondine deliberately kept her voice as light and innocent as she could manage. It came out far too light, far too innocent and all too completely needy.

  Cybelle froze, mid mouthful. “What do you mean?”

  Gulp. “I accidentally knocked a box over and one of the rolls rolled out. It’s a very clever side business. You’ve always been very clever.”

  Cybelle’s eyes slitted with suspicion. “It’s nothing.”

  “Oh, I’d never say anything to anyone else about it.” Ondine backtracked as fast as she could.

  “We’re not making any money, if that’s what you’re after,” Cybelle said.

  Mercury’s wings, that’s exactly what Ondine was after. “I’m sorry it sounds like I’m fishing . . . but I was just saying I think it’s really clever and I wish you and Henrik all the best with it. Sheesh, no need to get defensive,” Ondine said, sounding mightily defensive.

  Hamish chimed in, “We were hoping to get extra funds together, on account of the fact we need to do a job for Anathea and it’s goin’ tae cost us. And the tips are down on account of being closed for so long and –”

  “We don’t have any money.” Cybelle’s expression froze.

  Henrik looked at the ground and kept his hands clasped together. A little too tightly, judging by the whiteness of his knuckles.

  Ond
ine looked to Hamish. He squished her hand in support.

  Ma let out an exaggerated sigh behind them.

  Ondine tried again. “Belle, what you and Henrik have done is nothing short of incredible.” Too flowery? Too verbose? To bluffy? Thinking she’d said too much but not enough, Ondine ploughed on. “I know I should help you more than I do, and I will after this, I absolutely promise.”

  “You help out plenty,” Henrik said, his eyes still downcast.

  Cybelle elbowed him in the ribs.

  “What’s all this?” Da said.

  Henrik, Cybelle, Ondine and Hamish all said, “Nothing!”

  Da crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh really?”

  Henrik spoke in a soft voice. “This goes no further than this room.”

  As one, they nodded.

  With a sigh of defeat, Henrik revealed all. “Back in November, just after Anathea took over, they made a new law about buying Brugel-made computers, which have to have the Dvorak keyboard on them. But everyone knows where the letters are on a QWERTY keyboard. Nobody wants to swap over. But they want to look as if they’re complying with the laws. So we started making slipcovers with Dvorak layout on them. Put them over your existing keyboard and away you go.”

  Da’s eyebrows shot upwards.

  Ma dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “My little entrepreneurs.”

  “OK. Here’s our problem.” Ondine brought it back to the big issue at hand. “Once Anathea is popular, she’ll give Hamish his papers and he’ll be free to work for us without fear of inspectors.”

  Ma sat up a bit straighter at that. They needed Hamish’s free labour.

  Ondine had everyone’s attention. “We tried using magic yesterday in Savo Plaza. We’re not sure if it worked. And in the meantime, we have some more ideas. Well, Hamish has a really good idea. But we need money to get it started and we’re a bit broke except I was hoping Cybelle, that you and Henrik might lend me some of your money and I’ll pay you back.”

  She had to take a deep breath to recover from such a big explanation.

  Henrik sighed and looked to Cybelle.

  A pleading tone stole into Ondine’s voice. “We don’t need much. Just enough to get started.”

  Hamish gave her hand a squish of support.

  Henrik cracked. “How much are we talking about?”

  Cybelle groaned.

  “I’m sorry love,” Henrik said to Cybelle. “You’ve seen how poor the tips are when Hamish isn’t out front.”

  Cybelle groaned again. “But it’s our future fund!”

  “I know.” Henrik gave her a hug. “But . . . our future does kind of rely on Hamish being out the front.”

  Ondine beamed at the vote of confidence.

  “Fine then!” Cybelle threw her hands up in defeat. “But if we’re handing over money, I want a say in how it’s used.”

  “Aw yeas!” Hamish cheered. He quickly explained his idea about putting Anathea's face on napkins.

  “That’s stupid,” Cybelle said.

  An invisible hammer whacked Ondine in the head at Cybelle’s slapdown.

  “It is?” She and Hamish said together.

  The corner of Cybelle’s lip curled. “You want people wiping their dirty faces on the Duchess? It sends the totally wrong message.”

  “Oh,” Ondine and Hamish said together.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. But if you think about it, napkins are only one step up from toilet paper.”

  Ondine instantly wished she could get the visual of Anathea on that kind of product out of her head.

  Cybelle again. “Here’s what we do. We make a stencil of Anathea’s face and stamp it on the keyboard covers.”

  Ondine’s forehead scrunched in confusion.

  “As an inside joke,” Cybelle said. “The covers are how people get around the new laws, which she made. Every time people see her face on the cover, they’ll smile because they’ll be happily using their old keyboard, yet they’ll be complying with the law.”

  “It . . . sort of makes sense.” Ondine said, wishing they could go back to the napkins idea.

  Cybelle was ignoring Ondine’s look of pain because she kept right on talking. “Think about all the things that make you smile.”

  Too easy. Hamish made her smile.

  Cybelle groaned. “A product!”

  Whoa, she could read her mind? Ondine guessed her love for Hamish must be writ large on her face anyway.

  “Chocolate?” Ma suggested.

  “Aye, that’s good,” Hamish said. “How about a warm open fire?”

  Henrik grabbed a notepad and wrote the ideas down as they kept brainstorming.

  Everyone began talking at once.

  “Flowers?”

  “Ginger biscuits.”

  “Hot soup.”

  “Tea.”

  “Fluffy kittens?”

  “Hats with ear flaps?”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere,” Cybelle said. She too grabbed a piece of paper and began scribbling. Before long she had some sketches of the Duchess’s face and the hexagonal flag. “What we do is make some small posters, maybe half a page size. Small enough to fit on the curve of a lamppost, without getting distorted. We paste them up near where people buy things that make them happy. There’s a florist down the street, we put these on the lampposts or the walls or street signs near that. [221]

  “But, will anybody notice them?” Hamish asked.

  “Possibly not, at first,” Cybelle said. “That’s the beauty of it. It’s in people’s peripheral vision. They won’t make a direct connection, so they won’t think it's propaganda. If we put an ad in the paper saying how much everyone loves Anathea, it will turn people off because they’ll see it as a blatant add. This way is heaps better.”

  Henrik gave Cybelle two thumbs up.

  TWO DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, the de Groot household became a flurry of non-food-related activity as Ondine, Hamish and Cybelle woke extra early to gather their half-page posters to slap all over town. They divided up the bundles of papers and everyone grabbed a pot of glue and a thick brush, then headed out to the shopping districts. Being Sunday, many shops were closed for the morning and the cold kept the crowds away. All the same, they had to work quickly. Not because they’d be spotted, but because the glue kept freezing in the pots.

  One of the best spots Ondine found was the side of a hot soup caravan. She slapped a poster near the “Hot Soup For You!” logo.

  Feet entirely frozen, she, Hamish and Cybelle scarpered home for a hot second-breakfast. Then she spent the rest of the day washing dishes, as was her lot. Between meal services she and Cybelle collated posters and marked out maps of where they’d slap up posters the next morning. Hamish worked upstairs with a vintage photocopier to make enough posters for them to paste onto walls and lampposts.

  The printing left chemicals on his hands and sometimes the results came out a little blurry. But it gave the images a retro-look, which was so on-trend.

  They stopped their subversive advertising program to deal with the New Year’s Eve dinner crowds and then they gave themselves a rest on New Year’s Day because they deserved it.

  When January came around, Ondine had to go back to school, which meant getting up even earlier to get some copying and pasting done and keep the campaign rolling out.

  It was cold, miserable work, especially when she had to trudge through snow. But it was also great fun to be doing something a little subversive and – in Ondine’s mind – for a good cause. A good, secret cause. ​

  ​

  Chapter Ten

  In the middle of January, more snow came to Venzelemma, followed soon after by the arrival of hundreds of witches attending CovenCon. CovenCon garnered the largest gathering of witches and pre-witches in Eastern Europe. [222] This annual conference was to have been held in Norange, but Old Col had been instrumental in getting the location switched to Brugel.

  The organisers were lured to the atmospherics of the B
rugel’s not-quite-world-heritage-listed Massa-Kuche, on the coastal side of Venzelemma. The direct translation of Massa-Kuche is ‘Bulky lump on the hill’. Part castle, part ruin, Massa-Kuche has magnificent views over the Black Sea and is serviced by a funicular tourist railway and four-star hotel. [223]

  ​Stepping from the funicular railway that brought them to the top of the hill, Ondine’s nose tingled as she breathed the cool wintery air. Ahead of her was the castle, built on a ledge that she could see – now she was up this high – was part way up a larger mountain range.

  The castle had a classic medieval-style drawbridge over a running river. To one side of the river was a tumbling waterfall that churned into white froth, which then charged under the drawbridge and fell dramatically down another waterfall which took a huge plunge down the sheer side of the mountain. As they walked over the drawbridge, the timber creaked and shuddered. Several staff members stopped more people from walking on it at the same time, lest it collapse under the weight. From the groaning drawbridge they walked into a hallway already heaving with people.

  Many people have a traditional idea of what witches look like, but true Brugelish witches wear warm hats with orschlappen, and wouldn’t be seen anywhere without their multi-pocketed travelling cloak and knapsack. They all wear strong boots and sturdy pants, even the gentlemen.

  Here was where Ondine, Hamish and Old Col figured they’d be able to help Anathea become popular. Properly popular. If Anathea could behave herself – big if – and not irritate the tripe out of people – bigger if – their newly-minted Duchess just might endear herself to the crowds here. Because if Anathea charmed the witches, she’d be well on her way to winning over the rest of the country.

  “I was always going to bring you to CovenCon,” Old Col said to Ondine as they picked up their registration kits at the reception desk. “Ignore everything Birgit Howser told you.”

  Being told to ignore something is like being told not to think of pink motorbikes. The moment Old Col said not to, all Ondine could think about was Mrs. Howser and her persuasive words about how she could instruct magic far more effectively than Old Col could.