The House at the Edge of Magic

by Amy Sparkes

  Flabberghast gave a snort. “Trust me – it’s not a good idea, Madam.”

  “Now,” said Nine.

  Flabberghast sighed and stood up, muttering about Dwarvish and cookery and knitting sections all the way to the staircase. Nine stared at all the pictures hanging wonkily as they walked up the plum-carpeted stairs. They all featured people who looked decidedly witchy and wizardy: some with pointy hats; some with the same silvery eye-sparkle that Flabberghast had just displayed; all with the same flared nostrils as his.

  “Horatio the Untidy (1508-1649), Millicent the Goat-Eater (1410-1672), Arabella the Belch-Ridden (1702-1836),” Nine read, studying the titles under each portrait as she went. “Who are you then? Flabberghast the What?”

  Flabberghast cleared his throat. “Never mind.”

  They reached the top of the hallway stairs and Nine took in a sharp breath. The landing was littered with dozens of doors of every size and colour. Some were small as a mousehole, some larger than Eric. There were hundreds of doors and windows dotted all over the ridiculously high walls, which stretched up to an ornate painted ceiling in the distance. There were tall, dark wooden ladders propped up against the walls leading to some of the doors. Other doors looked reachable by a huge spiral staircase that seemed to reach up to the ceiling, or by rickety scaffolds of complicated, wooden staircases that doubled back on themselves with many landings criss-crossing over each other. And then there were doors that didn’t appear to be reachable at all.

  On one of the landings above them, a plain wooden door opened. A toilet stood in the doorway, then it hopped on its pedestal along the landing. The lid bumped up and down as it moved and a little mischievous giggling came from inside the toilet bowl. Nine and Flabberghast watched as another door opened and the toilet quickly hopped inside. The door slammed shut and there was the loud clanking sound of several bolts and padlocks fastening behind it on the inside, then a muffled, evil giggle. Nine just stared, words failing her yet again.

  An extremely narrow staircase on the right led to a single small, thin door. Painted on it was a yellow circle with a smaller circle inside. It wasn’t so much the strange symbol on the door as the sickly-smelling smoke wisping from underneath it that drew Nine’s attention.

  “And that’s perfectly normal as well, I suppose?” said Nine, looking at Flabberghast with narrowed eyes.

  “It’s Dr Spoon’s room,” said the wizard, thoughtfully. “Apparently, his experiments are going well. If ‘going well’ means blowing the doors off the hinges twice a week.”

  Just then, there was a slow, creaking sound above them. Nine turned her head to see a dark purple door at the top of a tall ladder. It opened itself fully, but nothing more happened.

  “What now? Why did it do that?” asked Nine.

  “That would be your room, Madam,” replied Flabberghast. “The room chooses the guest, not the other way around. Whatever it is, it’s the perfect room for you. When we pick up guests along the way they each have their own perfect space within the House.”

  “I’m not a guest and I don’t want a room.”

  Flabberghast shrugged. “I presume it’s just in case you did. After all, the House at the Edge of Magic has manners.” He looked out of the corner of his eye at Nine and added under his breath, “Unlike some.”

  Nine scowled as Flabberghast led them up a rickety staircase. Each stair creaked and groaned as they touched them. Nine was sure she heard one say “Oof”. Up to a short time ago this would have surprised her. Since then, she’d been belched at by a sugar bowl, attacked by a moody streak of light and served eyeball soup by a troll brandishing a feather duster. An oofing staircase was nothing.

  They reached a tiny landing at the top. In front of them was a giant green double door with a round brass handle.

  “The library, Madam,” said Flabberghast. “Now, just so you are aware, the books—”

  “I have been to a library before,” said Nine. “I’ll find my own way around.”

  “It’s not a matter of simply finding the spell section! You do not understand—”

  Nine put her hands on her hips. “I can read, you know. I understand more than you think!”

  “But it’s really not a good idea, Madam—”

  “We’ll see,” said Nine, opening one of the doors and stepping inside the room. Quickly, Flabberghast slammed the door behind her.

  There was hardly chance to look at the book-lined room in front of her before something rectangular and murderous hurtled towards her at a tremendous pace.

  Instinctively Nine ducked, protecting her head with her hands. There was a sharp thud as the thing embedded itself in the door.

  Cautiously, she stood up and looked behind her. The ‘thing’ was a small steel-plated book etched with the title Wizards’ Little Book of Calm, now sticking out of the wood at an awkward angle. The book jiggled helplessly, trying to wrench itself free. The green double doors were littered with paint-chipped scars. Not the first time this had happened, then.

  “You’ll have to try harder than that,” said Nine to the pathetically jerking book. Then she turned around to face the rest of the library. She looked up. Her eyes widened.

  “Er, yes. That’s more like it,” was all she could manage.

  About twenty thick, heavy, leather-bound books hovered in an arc in the air before her, around her and above her. Nine had never thought of books looking in a bad mood, but these definitely did. She inched a little to the right. The books followed her. Then she inched a little to the left. The books still followed her.

  Nine looked around. A candelabra hung from the ceiling, candles flickering. The four windowless walls stretched to about three times the height of a normal room and every single space was crammed with bookcases of different shapes and sizes, all piled up and balanced on top of each other, and all crammed with books. Whether or not these would also try to kill her remained to be seen. There were double-sided bookcases mounted on wheels dotted around the room too, and in the middle of the room was a table with a small lectern.

  It was bigger and more chaotic than she’d expected. Mr Downes would have had a heart attack at the state of it. Perhaps she should have asked Flabberghast where the spell section was… No. She didn’t need him. She would find it herself. She eyed the arc of books above her and took a step forward. The books loomed closer.

  “I’m not here for a fight. I’m just here for a book – a book I need to reveal some magic words,” said Nine, trying to sound braver than she felt.

  She took another step forward. The books loomed closer still. “Fine,” said Nine, “have it your way.”

  She twisted her satchel round so it sat behind her back. Just like a cat: sighting her prey, stalking it quietly, pouncing at the right moment.

  Nine’s senses were on alert. Her muscles tensed. The books above her swayed, ever so slightly. Nine clenched her fists, stretched her fingers. The thrill of it.

  She was on in three … two … one…

  She dived forward underneath the hovering books, which were clearly not expecting that. They spun around as Nine rolled across the library floor towards the lectern in the middle of the room. The books hurtled after her in a long line – aiming their sharp, heavy corners for her head – when Nine grabbed the lectern and—

  BAM! She sent a book flying across the room. It thudded into one of the wheel-mounted bookcases and slid to the floor.

  BAM! She sent another one across the room, brushing the candelabra as it went.

  Then the books moved out of formation and started randomly swooping at her. Nine swished the lectern in front of her wildly, occasionally getting a strike. She felt an unexpected bang at the back of her head as one struck her.

  “OW!” Nine growled, whirling around with the lectern and giving the book a hearty whack.

  Two more came at her from different sides. Nine ducked and the first two volumes of Troll Housekeeping for Beginners collided and dropped to the floor. A few more whacks with the
lectern and the last remaining books dropped lifelessly by her feet. Nine caught her breath. Maybe one of them would be about curse-breaking? She nudged them with her feet, just to check they weren’t about to attack again. Nothing.

  She glanced at their titles: 101 Recipes for Disaster … The Concise Guide to Magic Volume 9 … How to Cheat at Hopscotch … The Art of Disappearing… Nine stopped. That sounded useful. She reached for it but as her fingertips brushed the book, it completely vanished. Nine tutted. She really hated magic.

  She started to move towards one of the wheeled bookshelves. Flabberghast had mentioned a spell section, so it must be here somewhere. She just had to find it and—

  Then she heard it. A kind of dull rumbly thudding, growing louder and louder. She looked at the wheeled bookcase. The books were shaking. She glanced at the precariously balanced bookcases against the walls. The books there were also vibrating, as if they were stamping on the shelves, striving to break free. The bookcases themselves started wobbling…

  Nine swallowed.

  Before she had time to think or move, thousands of books shot out of their shelves with such force that all but one of the barely balanced bookcases toppled to the floor, piling on top of each other. But the books pelted down towards Nine and started to form a dark, wobbly wall in front of her – behind her – beside her—

  Just above her head the books began to close the gap, overlapping like roof tiles trapping her in a box-like prison. Nine threw herself with all her might against the book-wall nearest the library door – again, again, again – panic rising in her chest. Finally, she burst through, books flying and toppling in every direction.

  She ran for the door but books rained down, forging walls on either side, blocking her – this way and that – twisting and turning her path until Nine was running through a book-lined maze with no idea where she was heading. At last she caught a glimpse of green and gold, and sprinted towards it. The door!

  Nine leapt for the handle as the books piled up on either side around her. She yanked it open, dislodging the wriggling Wizards’ Little Book of Calm as she did so. It shot backwards and Nine quickly glanced over her shoulder to see the steel-plated book hurtling towards her once again through an ever-darkening tunnel of books.

  She half-ran, half-fell through the doorway, grabbed the handle and slammed it shut. There was the unmistakeable sound of a very uncalm steel-plated book making another dent in the door, followed by the softer thumps of book after book against the wood.

  Nine looked up and saw Flabberghast, arms folded, leaning smugly against the bannister at the top of the stairs. She quickly straightened herself up, pulled her satchel back to her hip and resisted the urge to punch his smirking face.

  “All done,” she said lightly and walked past him with her head held high, deliberately ignoring the sound of the last barely-balanced bookcase crashing to the floor.

  Nine marched down the creaking, groaning, oofing staircase as fast as she could for fear that Flabberghast might catch up and interrogate her about the events in the library. She made her way down the various staircases until she found Eric waiting in the entrance hall. He had almost twisted his tail into a knot.

  “Lady safe,” he said, looking relieved.

  “Of course I’m safe.”

  “Room naughty.”

  “Yes.”

  “Books naughty.”

  “Yes,” snapped Nine irritably.

  “I did tell you it was a bad idea, Madam,” called Flabberghast smugly from the top of the plum-carpeted stairs.

  Nine ignored him and marched to the front door.

  “Wait! Wait! Madam! Where are you going?” Flabberghast said, his tone changing from smug to panicked. He began to run down the hallway stairs.

  The hands on the clock whizzed backwards, the smallest hand now pointing at the 11. Nine cast a fleeting glance at the tongue-less toad on the coat of arms, then she opened the front door, stepped outside and said, “To a library that doesn’t want to kill me.”

  And, with more than a little satisfaction, she slammed the door behind her.

  All the way to the library, Nine’s fists were tight, her shoulders up around her ears. Stray cats prowling the streets sprang away to the shadows as she approached. Bonneted ladies walking arm-in-arm stared at her, but Nine didn’t care. She cared about breaking the curse. Getting the jewel in that strange, glowing ball. Escaping Pockets’ Nest for ever. And not having to return to the House. That House! That horrible, horrible House.

  She marched up to the library.

  It was so unpredictable!

  She pulled open the door and stepped inside.

  So unreasonable!

  She stormed over to where the librarian was sitting at his desk in the corner, one hand holding his head, the other writing lists of numbers in a large notebook. She slammed her hands down on the desk, rattling the inkwell and making the librarian jump.

  “And are your books going to try and kill me, Mr Downes?”

  “I … don’t believe so,” the librarian said slowly, straightening his horn-rimmed glasses to look at her more closely.

  “Exactly!” said Nine, throwing her hands up in the air before marching off towards the shelves.

  She took a deep breath. This was the only place to be when she was really worked up. Something about the room calmed her down. She ignored the smattering of people. All she saw – all she felt – were the books, their words breathing stories, wisdom, and the only escape and freedom she had ever known.

  She closed her eyes, searching for the musty, bookish scent beyond the smell of damp, trying hard to drown out Pockets’ voice and the ticking clock in the House. She ran her hands along the line of book spines and was about to lift one at random from the shelf—

  “You know you are not permitted to borrow from this library,” Mr Downes whispered in her ear.

  Nine felt her heart jolt. She whirled around, hands on hips, and looked at the librarian accusingly.

  “Another point to me,” he said, pulling out his little notebook.

  “That doesn’t count,” Nine burst out.

  “Forgive me asking,” said Mr Downes as he tucked his notebook back into his jacket, “but are you in trouble? I mean, more than usual.”

  Nine rubbed her hands over her eyes. The magic words are… “Books on magic,” she said in a low voice. “I need books on magic.”

  The librarian took her by the elbow and pulled her to the side of the room. He glanced around nervously. “I don’t know why you would suppose I had books on such things—”

  “Mr Downes, I need information,” said Nine, looking him in the eye. “Secrets. Magic. Curses.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Witchcraft.”

  Mr Downes widened his eyes and shuffled uncomfortably. “I’m really not sure you should be—”

  “Do you have anything? Anything?”

  The librarian sighed and pointed to an ill-lit corner of the room by one of the boarded-up windows.

  “Top shelf, in the corner. You’ll need the ladder. Don’t draw attention to yourself.” Nine nodded and went to move but Mr Downes grabbed her elbow. “And I didn’t say any of that,” he added.

  As the librarian rubbed his brow and wandered back to his desk, Nine made her way to the corner. She grasped the bottom of the long, wheeled ladder and pulled it along the shelves towards the darkest corner. She twisted her satchel to her back and up she climbed until she reached the top shelf. She felt a little prickle at the back of her neck … a sense of being somewhere she really shouldn’t be. It excited her and terrified her in equal measures. She wanted to look over her shoulder, check she was safe, alone, unwatched, but she didn’t dare risk making eye contact with anyone below.

  Instead her fingers trailed the soft, dark spines of the books as she read their golden-lettered titles…

  Folklore and Legend: A Hunter’s Guide…

  Hunting what? Nine shook her head. Focus.

  An Exploration of Mythical Creatu
res of Land and Sea…

  No, not now.

  Spellbinding Methods and Their Efficiency…

  Hmm, getting closer.

  The Secret Book of Secrets and How to Uncover Them…

  YES!

  Nine’s heart skipped a beat as her fingers lingered over the thick burgundy spine. She reached out to take it from the shelf.

  A heavy feeling poured over her, growing stronger and stronger … like someone was watching. Not from the ground but right there: up on the ladder. Nine shook the irrational feeling from her head, closed her fingers around the spine and pulled the book out—

  An eye with a fiercely red iris stared at her from the back of the shelf.

  Nine gasped and jolted backwards on the ladder, nearly falling off. The book tumbled from her grasp and, for a split second, she looked away from the eye to watch the book fall towards the ground. It landed with a thud that echoed throughout the room. She looked back at the shelf. The eye was gone.

  Heart still pounding, Nine scrambled down the ladder as fast as she could. She snatched the book from the wooden floor and quickly headed for the exit. Mr Downes was at his desk, leaning over his book of figures, worry lines creased all over his usually genial face. He looked up as Nine walked past. “I trust you found what you were looking for?”

  “More than I was looking for!” said Nine over her shoulder. She tucked the book into her satchel and walked out into the street. As she weaved her way through the back alleys towards the House, the roads grew narrower, the people fewer. Nine’s thoughts turned to the red eye in the library. It had been watching her. Definitely watching her. Perhaps a warning—

  “THIEF!” bellowed a voice behind her.

  Nine jumped out of her thoughts, legs twitching, ready to run. She whirled around to see the ruddy-cheeked butcher from the market speeding towards her, his blood-splattered apron flapping.

  “Does anyone not want to kill me today?” she snapped, before she turned and ran.

  “I’ll teach you a lesson!” bellowed the butcher.