Pointy Hats and Witchy Cats

by Addison Creek

  Something twitched in Bethel’s face. “Don’t start on that again. Our social standing is fine,” said my grandmother.

  “We’re at the bottom of the barrel. We are so low, we aren’t even in the barrel,” said Lowe.

  I looked between them. “I’m out of my depth here. What exactly do you think is about to happen?”

  “Look,” said my grandmother. “I know this is a lot to spring on you in one summer afternoon. I would love to take more time explain, but we just don’t have it right now. Do you remember hot pants back there? He’s hot on our trail. We have to get you into town before he finds us. Hopefully he won’t ever find you then.

  “Once you’re in town, he’ll have fewer options, so we need to get you home. This isn’t home. Once we’re safely home I’ll try to explain more. The short version is that witches are real. I’m a witch, she’s a witch, and you’re a witch. A lesser one at the moment, because you’ve had no training and it’s been kept a secret from you. That is very much against policy,” she added with exasperation.

  Her lower lip was trembling. I thought she might even cry.

  “Did you think my father had told me?” I asked.

  “I certainly think your mother and the rest of her family would have handled what happened differently if we had known he wouldn’t,” she said.

  It was as if a thunderclap went off in my ear. She had mentioned my mother again, and how my mother would have wanted me raised. The idea that my father hadn’t done it according to her wishes had never occurred to me, mostly because my father had made it clear that my mother couldn’t possibly have wishes.

  “If I go with you, will you tell me about my mom?” I asked softly.

  “In so much detail you’ll get sick of it,” my grandmother promised, and my heart lifted.

  “I highly doubt that,” I whispered.

  It was only now that I realized that tears had filled Lowe’s eyes. But she clapped her hands together happily when I agreed to come.

  “You said we have to go to the passport office? My passport is at my house. I can go back and get it. Although I wasn’t really planning on doing an international trip just now,” I explained.

  “It’s not that kind of passport office,” said my grandmother.

  “We should get going,” said Lowe. “Do you want to do the first plan we talked about, the second plan, or the third?” she asked my grandmother.

  “We go down the list. We have to go until it works,” said Bethel.

  “Transportation is in the back shed. I had to move some of the garden tools, but I don’t think anyone will notice,” said Lowe.

  “You mean as compared to the flaming mess out front?” I asked.

  “Is there really anything like that out front?” my grandmother asked.

  I stared at her in shock, then ran into the room we had first come into and peeked out the door. Sure enough, the car was gone; all I could see was a small heap of gray dust. Now a whole new series of shocks ran through me. That had been an entire car just a few minutes ago.

  I made my way back into the cramped kitchen in a daze.

  “So, how do you feel about your first exposure to witchcraft?” said my grandmother.

  “I definitely feel like you are not a person to cross,” I said.

  Lowe giggled.

  “I’d like to think that most of my family learned that a long time ago,” said my grandmother with a chuckle. “Let’s skedaddle.”

  Lowe led the way to a small, falling-down shed. When I saw it I immediately started to worry again. It was too small to fit a car, so what could Lowe possibly be thinking? There was no way I was going to leave either of my newfound family members behind if there wasn’t enough room for all three of us. And given that I was the one who was being chased, they couldn’t possibly be planning on leaving me behind.

  Could they?

  Feeling more nervous with every step, I glanced back at the house and suddenly had the desperate desire to bolt. I didn’t know these people. Who knew what they were leading me toward?

  I tried to calm myself by reminding myself that I had gotten into the trunk of a car and my “grandmother” had let me out again. Therefore, she couldn’t be too crazy, right?

  Just then I also noticed that it was sunny again, and that cheered me up a lot. I wondered if the clouds had blown away or if we had just driven far enough to get out from under them.

  “We have to get going,” said Lowe with some urgency as she opened the door to the shed. Apparently I was being too dreamy for her.

  Whatever I was expecting, mopeds weren’t it. The small, scooterized vehicles had always struck me as ridiculous. Now I was staring at three of them squeezed inside the small shed.

  “Let’s get a move on. Time’s a-wasting, and Handsome isn’t going to stand on his wrists and not come after us,” said Bethel.

  Chapter Six

  I could only assume she was talking about Smoldering.

  “Have you ever ridden one of these?” asked Lowe.

  “Me? No,” I said. “I’ve barely even seen them. Just on TV.”

  “It’s a piece of lemon drizzle cake,” said my grandmother.

  “You ride them?” I gasped.

  “Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I can’t have fun anymore. I have plenty of fun,” she said.

  “Of course,” I blushed at the implication that I had thought she didn’t.

  Riding a moped turned out to be one of the most terrifying things I had ever done. My new-found cousin and my grandmother both zigzagged though traffic like old pros. Not only did I nearly crash at least six times, but my dress kept getting in the way. I finally hiked it around my knees, and that freed me to concentrate better on my driving.

  Lucy the hat-bird flew around us as we drove. I had the distinct impression that she was guarding our way. She would dart behind us and I’d hear screeching tires as cars swerved to avoid us. She would then dart back to my grandmother.

  I only hoped she wasn’t coming back with bad news.

  Just when I was starting to wonder if we would ever get to our destination, we turned down a smaller street. The buildings looked familiar, and then I recognized them. We were on the main street of a nearby town.

  Bethel gunned her engine, zoomed ahead, and jumped the nearest curb. It might just have been my imagination, but the bed of flowers she landed in might have risen up to cushion her fall. Just as strangely, cats poured out of storefronts and hedges alike until there were at least ten of them.

  I let off the throttle of my moped, afraid I would crash from shock.

  Right behind Bethel, Lowe took a hard right and avoided the flower bed. My grandmother parked her moped behind a big old tree and ordered us to do the same.

  As she passed the trunk of the tree she patted it affectionately, and sparkles burst around her fingers.

  Bethel was moving at an awfully fast clip for an old lady.

  I glanced over my shoulder, but there was no sign we were being chased.

  Just a lot of cats.

  “Come on!” Lowe yelled.

  I glanced ahead toward an old antique shop. The windows were dim and the place did not look open, but that’s where we appeared to be heading.

  After almost opening my mouth to point out that the shop was closed, I shut it again with a snap and hurried forward.

  The door to the shop was locked.

  “Maybe this is a bad idea,” I whispered.

  “Fix your hair,” said my grandmother, glancing at me.

  I reached up and felt huge curls. The drive in the moped had messed up my wedding do, to say nothing of what the car trunk had done to it.

  I tried to squash the frizz down, with how much luck I couldn’t really tell.

  “This way,” said my grandmother. A heavy gold key hung in her hand, and now that I looked I noticed that the lock on the door was far larger and fancier than any regular old antique shop around here should require.

  Apparently the secrets inside
the shop were substantial enough that they needed strong protection.

  The lock turned and I heard a clicking sound. The next thing I knew the door was swinging inward and my grandmother was rushing us inside.

  The feel of cool air and the smell of must hit me full in the face.

  Before Bethel closed the door she looked over her shoulder again, and her lips tightened.

  Then we were through and the door was closed behind us.

  “Morice? Are you here?” Bethel called in a whisper-yell.

  She pushed her way through the shop, while I stayed by the door and tried to let my eyes adjust to the dimness.

  “What’s happening outside? Keep an eye out, dear,” Bethel said, speaking to Lowe.

  My cousin took up a post by the door, in which there was a small window left over from a time when glass was harder to come by. The window was grimy, but that didn’t stop Lowe from peering through it.

  I felt a strange tingling in my fingertips as we moved forward, seeing shots of color and sparks of magic everywhere, and, as my eyes adjusted, a new sparkle in every corner.

  What on earth was going on?

  “This way! This way! Come, come,” my grandmother encouraged me, waving me forward and hurrying along herself.

  This place was unlike any shop I was familiar with; it went on far longer than I would have expected based on the way it looked from the outside. There was room after room, and pretty soon we had gone so far from the entrance that I could no longer see Lowe.

  Just as I was starting to think we’d never come to the end of it, we arrived at a hallway at the end of which was a window cut into the wall. On the other side of the glass sat a very funny-looking man with a thin face that protruded forward. His ears were huge and pointed and he was wearing a bowtie.

  His eyes shot up when he saw us. He frowned when he recognized my grandmother.

  “He may not look glad to see me,” said Bethel, “but never fear.”

  We hurried down the hall toward the man behind the window, my grandmother dragging me behind her as we went. With each passing step, the frown on the man’s face deepened. My grandmother did not appear to notice.

  “Morice! Why didn’t you answer me when I called?” she demanded as we reached the window.

  The glass remained closed.

  I could have been imagining it, but I didn’t think the individual on the other side of the glass was entirely human. He looked at us from behind the glass, blinking his large liquid eyes a couple of times, still not responding to Bethel’s entreaties.

  “Morice! This is no time for games!” my grandmother said, stamping her foot.

  Slowly Morice reached up and slid back the glass. I braced for a scratching sound, but it never came.

  “First of all, I do not respond to yelling. Second of all, I certainly do not play games,” Morice said in a slow and lilting voice.

  I had the distinct impression that by the time he finished his speech my grandmother wanted to hop through the window, grab him by his bowtie, and yell at him.

  She refrained.

  Hopefully that sort of restraint was in the gene pool and had been passed down to me, too.

  “Lastly, I am certain that you are up to something, and I wanted to delay the inevitable as long as possible,” Morice continued.

  My grandmother sputtered. “I know very well it’s boring. I’m sure I’m bringing a little excitement into your life.”

  “You don’t understand. Some of us want a boring life,” he said.

  My grandmother scoffed.

  “Furthermore, some of us do not want to be interviewed by the sheriffs later when they come chasing you,” he said.

  I gasped and covered my mouth with my hand.

  “How do you know we have sheriffs chasing us?” my grandmother asked.

  “It came over the radio,” said Morice.

  My grandmother swore. At least, I think she did. She said several words I had never heard before, but all of the ones I understood were definitely swears. Morice appeared unfazed by all of them. He merely continued to blink slowly.

  “Will you help us, or not?” my grandmother asked.

  “Why should I?” asked Morice.

  “Because it will be more fun. It is also the right thing to do. I have to get my granddaughter back Twinkleford as quickly as possible,” said my grandmother.

  The entire time we had been standing there, Morice’s facial expression hadn’t changed; he had kept on a mask of boredom on. Now he looked at me with renewed interest.

  “I can’t give a passport to a criminal. Ethel will have to answer for her crimes,” he said.

  If my grandmother had been annoyed before, she was almost apoplectic now. “This is not Ethel. Don’t tell me how to handle my family. This is her sister. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “An individual who had not done anything wrong would not be sought by sheriffs,” countered Morice.

  “They would if her sister was a famous criminal,” said my grandmother through gritted teeth.

  I could barely follow this conversation. If what I was hearing was accurate, it sounded as if my whole family was filled with criminal masterminds.

  I wondered why I lived in a treehouse. Further, I wondered why they bothered with me.

  “I will do this thing that you ask, on one condition,” said Morice.

  My grandmother looked like she was about to respond with a biting retort.

  I finally put a word in and asked, “What is the condition?”

  “A favor of my choosing at a later date. Some of us may enjoy the idea of having fun at the sheriff’s expense. We also do not like how things have been done in the valley recently. I would highlight how they changed in the last three years as a negative. This is why I’m willing to assist you when I really should not. When the sheriffs ask me what happened, I will be able to play dumb. I’ll be perfectly happy to tell them I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to issue a rush passport. We will all know I’m lying, of course. I am excellent at my job. They know that and I do too.

  “Still, I intend to help you get into the valley. Because of what your grandmother said, and what I’m about to ask for,” he said. He blinked several times.

  My grandmother had started shifting impatiently from foot to foot. If we took much longer, I knew she’d be outright hopping and yelling.

  “What is it you want?” I asked.

  “When the time comes, I’d like some unicorn dung,” he said.

  If I had thought that this conversation was too much before it certainly was now.

  My grandmother coughed. I glanced at her. She clearly thought this was a high price to pay, but she didn’t say so out loud.

  Morice quirked his eyebrow at me. “You’re going to learn a lot in the next few days, I expect. One thing you should know is that unicorns are very powerful. Their dung is incredibly valuable. Your grandmother has a lot of it,” he said.

  I glanced at my grandmother, who was looking ever more irritable. “I hardly think you can say I have a lot of it when they only poop once a year.”

  “You have more than anybody else has. I would just like a little bit of it. I could ask for money and I would use it for the same purpose as having the dung itself. But my job here will never bring me that kind of wealth,” he said.

  “You know I don’t sell it for money,” she said.

  “Only to a couple of people,” he said.

  “Only to as many people as I have to keep afloat,” she retorted.

  “Are you keeping up?” he asked.

  “You have a deal. Get her the passport. We don’t have a lot of time,” Bethel said through gritted teeth.

  As for me, I thought that a passport in exchange for horse poop was a pretty good deal. I was pretty sure that horse poop could be sold for the paper a passport would be printed on.

  Without another word, Morice turned around, headed for the musty recesses of his office, and started looking through the contents of the cubby
holes.

  I had no idea what he was doing, and no one explained. But as we stood there waiting, I thought my grandmother might have a meltdown. She was still looking very anxious, even though Morice had agreed to help us.

  “Can you hurry up at all?” she asked.

  “No,” floated the reply.

  After a couple more minutes, Morice finished what he was doing. Muttering to himself the entire time, he reached up and opened one of the cubbyholes. Out came a tiny pair of shoes made of glass. They looked like something you would put on a doll. I guessed they also could be a collectors item.

  He returned to us and very carefully set the glass slippers on the shelf between us. All three of us stared at them. Then he reached out his hand and twiddled his fingers and sparkles appeared. The shoes blazed and then subsided.

  “These are what we call your papers. They will gain you entry into the valley. Please do not lose them. You can wear them around your neck. Once you become an official member of the town, you will no longer need them, but given that your status is currently in question, you would do best to have a passport. In essence, it is a visitor’s pass, spelled particularly for you. You cannot transfer the spell to somebody else. The shoes will not get anyone into town but you,” he said.

  “They’re beautiful. But I don’t see a chain,” I said, peering at the shoes. They were not a necklace.

  “Leave that to me,” said my grandmother. The next instant a thin silver chain appeared at the heel of the shoes. Now they could be worn around my neck.

  “Thank you for your help. I always thought I’d have a boring life too,” I told Morice.

  For the first time since we came running down the corridor, he looked just a little bit softer.

  My grandmother was about to say something when the door behind us burst open and Lowe came racing down the hall. The white around her eyes showed and she was gasping for breath.

  “They’re here. I put a dresser in front of the door, but it won’t slow them down for long. We have to get out of here!” she yelled.