The House at the Edge of Magic

by Amy Sparkes

  “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” Flabberghast muttered irritably as he pushed Nine to the back door. “Now listen, this is deadly nightshade.” He held up The Secret Book of Secrets and How to Uncover Them and pointed at the picture of a plant with little purple flowers. “I distinctly remember there was some down by the angel statue.”

  “Angel statue?”

  “You can’t miss it. Two wings, curly hair, looks rather grumpy. The moment that moon shines on the garden, Madam, pick the nightshade!”

  Nine turned around to look at them. “But you’re coming too?”

  Flabberghast cleared his throat and Eric moved beside him, tail in hand. “Ah, now, regrettably, we cannot step foot into the back garden either, Madam. The witch made sure of that.”

  Nine frowned.

  “You’re on your own, lass,” said Spoon. “But we’re right behind you.”

  Flabberghast opened the back door. “More or less,” he said – and shoved Nine outside.

  A light breeze had picked up, bringing the scent of damp moss. Nine looked up at the sky. The moon was still behind the blanket of cloud. But with the wind blowing gently that could change at any moment … she hoped.

  Without a host of furious, spear-wielding goblins crowding around the back door, Nine could make out some shadowy shapes. Tall … thin … sloping … dotted all over the ground like…

  “Graves,” said Nine. “Your back garden is a graveyard?” She turned around to see the others huddled together in the doorway watching her.

  “We never really bothered with landscaping,” Flabberghast said with a finality that implied that this was all the explanation Nine was going to get.

  “So I see.” She took a few steps forward and stared at the shadowy, forlorn stones.

  “Be ready for the moonlight, Madam,” said Flabberghast. “Don’t stay in the garden a moment longer than you must. Return to us as quickly as you possibly can. Which reminds me –” Flabberghast pointed up at the sky – “it’s still Wednesday for the moment, so watch out for the—”

  There was a sudden flittering noise behind Nine. She whirled around to see a cloud-like mass of black moving at great speed across the sky towards them. Nine stared at it, her heart missing a beat. Suddenly a giant black creature, as big as an open umbrella, swooped down towards her out of nowhere. Instinctively Nine crouched down, raised her satchel over her head and lashed out.

  There was a thud. Nine’s heart thumped as she opened her eyes to see a giant bat spinning wildly through the air and landing behind a pyramid-shaped tomb.

  “Bad bat,” whimpered Eric from the back door.

  “Madam, take cover!” bellowed Flabberghast.

  Nine shook her head. “No! I’m finding the nightshade. I can handle bats.”

  “Yes but we didn’t mention their serious digestive problems, did we, Madam?”

  “WHAT?”

  Droppings the size of a saucer started to splat on the grassy ground right in front of her feet. Nine leapt backwards. There was a fizzing, sizzling noise and spirals of smoke came up from the ground. When it cleared, Nine gasped as she saw that the area all around was burnt.

  “Do not let their droppings touch you!” hissed Flabberghast.

  “I’ll try and remember that,” called Nine as she ran behind a gravestone, which leaned at an unnerving, unhelpful angle.

  Another giant bat dived towards her. Nine scrabbled around on the ground and found a small loose stone. She hurled it at the bat and ducked down again behind the gravestone. The creature circled for a moment then aimed its bottom towards her. The slop hit the gravestone with a splat, followed by a sizzle.

  Nine twisted her satchel behind her back and ran wildly across the graveyard as the bats followed, shooting droppings all around her.

  “Find that nightshade, lass! Left a bit!” yelled Spoon.

  “No, it’s right a bit!” called Flabberghast. “Er … isn’t it?”

  “Garden dark!” wailed Eric. “Where lady?”

  “Don’t you know where it is?!” Nine yelled back at them, ducking behind another tall gravestone. There was another sizzling splat, which oozed down the side of the stone.

  “Madam, kindly remember it’s been years since I’ve stepped outside,” came Flabberghast’s indignant voice. “I cannot be expected to remember the precise location of every single—”

  “FINE!” yelled back Nine, putting her hands over her head as another bat flew overhead. “I’ll find it myself!” And, taking a deep breath, she darted out from behind the grave – and ran.

  “Madam? Madam?” came Flabberghast’s now-distant voice. “Where are you?”

  Nine ignored him. She looked wildly at the sloping stones of various shapes and sizes. Where? Where was the angel? She ran over tufted mounds of grass and moss, pausing and crouching among the gravestones. The garden seemed to go on for ever.

  Focus. Focus.

  There! She could see the shadowy shape of a pair of wings. She wove through the graves past a tall, pointy monument overgrown with greenery – and there it was. An angel: two wings, curly hair and looking like it had swallowed a rotten lemon.

  “Found the angel!” Nine yelled, dropping to the ground and frantically searching for the plant. Grass … moss … weed … then she felt the delicate, soft head of a closed flower. And more flowers. She peered closely and a jolt of hope shot through her.

  She looked up at the sky. The breeze was blowing, but it was slight, and the blanket of cloud still hadn’t shifted. “Come on,” Nine hissed at the sky as she cradled the flower in her hand.

  A bat swooshed above her and Nine instinctively ducked. The cloud was moving … slowly … slowly…

  “COME ON!” Nine thumped the ground with her other hand. “Show yourself!”

  A gust of strangely icy wind swept over Nine, who shuddered. She looked upwards. The cloud drifted away, revealing the moon. And it was the moon, except…

  As Nine saw it, she felt a tightness spread across her chest. “Oh, how thoughtful your witch is,” she muttered. Somehow, on the face of the moon, was the hexagonal clock from the hallway, glowing bright white. Three of the hands still whizzed backwards wildly and the smallest hand pointed at the 3.

  Really no time to lose.

  As the moonlight shone down, Nine moved her hand to the stalk, ready to snap it and –

  Wait. A strange noise above the shrieking, sizzling, flapping chaos of the graveyard. Rustling? Not quite. Wriggling? That wasn’t quite the word. Slithering? No…

  Nine slowly turned around.

  Dozens of vines had peeled away from the monument, raised up in the air, hovering, waiting – like deadly snakes ready to strike.

  “I really, really hate magic,” Nine squeaked.

  Then the vines lurched towards her.

  The vines coiled around Nine’s satchel, tugging it, yanking it, and almost lifting her from her feet. “That – is – mine!” she roared, trying to tug it back.

  The plant relinquished its grip, and Nine stumbled back a step. She stood straight and proud and nodded sharply in their direction. That was … easy. Why was it so—

  WHAM! She felt she’d been hit by a particularly nasty, heavy octopus as eight vines lashed out at her, grabbing her, wrapping around her. The graveyard turned upside down as Nine thrashed about in the air. Wriggling and tearing at the rough, rope-like vines did nothing. She was utterly powerless in their grip.

  “Put me down, or else!” bellowed Nine, wondering when she’d last threatened a plant.

  The vines suddenly released her in mid-air. Nine screamed as down she plummeted.

  With one quick swoop, Nine threw out her hand to the ground, scooping up a sharp stone and a handful of damp earth. She held the stone like a dagger stabbing furiously, left and right, left and right, wincing as she caught her own arm in the fury – until down she fell with a thud on a bed of deadly nightshade.

  “Make haste, Madam!” said a distant voice.

  “Aye, and don’
t forget the flowers!”

  Nine caught her breath as the graveyard still span around her. “This floaty red ball better be blimin’ worth it,” she muttered. Sitting up, she grabbed a handful of the flowers and stuffed them in her satchel. “I’ve got the flowers,” Nine yelled. “I’m coming back!”

  “Excellent news!” crowed the distant wizardy voice. As Nine turned towards the door, she looked up to see another bat hurtling towards her. Flapping – fluttering – plop! Sizzling droppings missed her face by an inch. Another plop to the right. And another.

  Nine half ran, half staggered to the doorway where the troll, the wizard and the spoon were cheering her on. Deadly liquid rained down as she ran, echoing her own footsteps. She flapped wildly at the black shapes that flitted above her, focusing only on the doorway getting closer and closer…

  “Come on, Madam!”

  And closer and—

  BOOM.

  A strange ripple of energy rolled across the graveyard. Nine stood perfectly still. Anything which felt BOOM-like was, she had learned, probably not a good thing. The bat was closing in when, suddenly, it vanished into nothing.

  “Oh dear,” said a not-so-crowing wizardy voice.

  “Flabberghast?” she called, hoping he didn’t hear the waver in her voice. Never. Show. Weak—

  “I don’t believe it’s Wednesday any more.”

  “So it’s Thursday? What – what happens on Thursday?” said Nine, still not daring to move.

  “Monday dragon, Tuesday goblin, Wednesday bat…” rumbled Eric.

  Her breathing quick and shallow, Nine slowly turned around. Her eyes widened as she saw the entire graveyard, as far as the eye could see, disappearing at an alarming rate. Gravestones and monuments were being swallowed up behind her, to the side of her, by a blackness – a complete nothingness.

  “Thursday void,” whimpered the troll.

  “Oh no,” murmured Nine.

  “Run, lassie!”

  Nine ran with legs that she couldn’t feel on ground that wasn’t there. Her breath was being sucked out. Her chest ached. There was no air. No light. No anything, except darkness that promised to stretch for ever – and she was going to become part of it.

  Nothing. There was nothing. It was all over.

  Life don’t bring you…

  Nine was falling forwards without moving, pulled by something that wasn’t there in a direction that didn’t exist.

  The back door slammed shut.

  Nine felt as if she were waking from a dream. She gazed up at Eric, who was gripping her by the jacket. Nine pulled herself away dizzily and fell straight back down again.

  “Never,” she growled to Eric, “touch me again.”

  “Naughty Thursday,” said Eric, his mouth downturned as Nine staggered to her feet.

  “A marvellous success, Madam!” crowed Flabberghast, clapping his hands. “O-ho! That’ll teach the witch!”

  “You,” said Nine, glaring at the wizard. “You knew that was going to happen. The void.”

  “Well you might not have gone out there in the first place if I’d told you. But never mind that now,” said Flabberghast hastily.

  “NEVER MIND?”

  “The important thing, Madam, is that you have the flowers!”

  “Lady hurt,” said Eric, peering at her arm. He slowly, cautiously, reached out his long-nailed hand to examine a cut on Nine’s arm.

  Realising what he was doing, Nine quickly slapped it away. Eric gave a little whimper.

  “Lady FINE,” she said, only then realising how un-fine her arm was. Eric edged backwards and hung his head, and Nine felt a stab of shame. “Just get me a cloth or something,” she muttered. “I’ll sort it.”

  “Eric fetch.” The troll lolloped off, his yellow dressing gown flapping behind him. Nine stumbled over to the kitchen table and collapsed into one of the chairs. The sugar bowl backed away a little.

  “The nightshade, Madam,” said Flabberghast, reaching his hand out. “There’s no time to waste.”

  Feeling bruised and drained, Nine reached into her satchel, pulled out the flowers and pushed them towards Flabberghast. The wizard wiggled his fingers excitedly. “Splendid! Splendid!”

  “Yes, you’re welcome,” Nine said grumpily.

  Holding the precious flowers in one hand, Flabberghast stuck his head then his shoulders and then his entire body – as far as his slippers – into a small cupboard. He rummaged and clattered around inside.

  “A-HA!” said a voice that sounded like it came from the other side of the House. Flabberghast reversed out of the tiny cupboard holding aloft a large mortar and pestle. “Victory shall be ours!”

  “You know,” Nine said loudly, “you are the most ridiculous wizard I have EVER met.”

  As Flabberghast began crushing the nightshade in the bowl, Eric sloped over to the table carrying a strip of white linen and a dish of water with a cloth. He placed the items down on the table then took a few steps backwards, twisting his tail. Nine looked at the wide-eyed troll and felt unfamiliar words burn her tongue. Words she could not speak. So she just said, “They’ll do.”

  She waited until the troll stopped watching before dipping the cloth into the water and quickly bathing her arm. She awkwardly wrapped the linen bandage around the cut, but try as she could, she couldn’t tie it up. She huffed in annoyance. The sugar bowl edged back another inch. Spoon jumped onto the table and, without a word, tied up the ends with his nimble, stick-like fingers. He paused for a second and looked Nine in the eyes. She stared back in wordless defiance.

  “A-ha!” declared Flabberghast, pouring a jug of water over the crushed deadly nightshade in the mortar and giving it a stir. “The flowers are prepared. Madam, the letter!”

  Nine pushed back her chair and dashed over to the TO DO board, driven by a new wave of energy. She tried to tug the letter free but the little jaws gave a rumbling growl and held it firm.

  “How—?”

  “Tickle under the chin!” called Flabberghast, as he marched towards the cauldron.

  Nine lifted up the letter and tickled underneath the jaws. They released the letter into her hand, gave a little giggle, then melted back into the wooden board. The spoon jumped onto her shoulder as she reached the cauldron. Eric lolloped over towards them and gave a little whimper at the sight of his feather duster.

  “Dear friends,” Flabberghast began proudly as he held the mortar aloft, “the magic words are about to appear. The revenge curse will soon be broken! We shall not be shrunk beyond reality! Our freedom will be secured! My magic will be returned! And the toilet will be in the same place as we leave it!”

  “By the way, I saw it on the fourth floor,” said Spoon. “And it’s grown teeth. Sit down very carefully.”

  “BEHOLD!” Flabberghast said as he tipped the mortar and poured the Revelato Potion over the items in the cauldron.

  Everyone held their breath.

  And held it.

  And held it.

  And held it…

  Then, feeling slightly dizzy, there was a collective un-holding of breath. They all stared down at the letter. It still read ‘so the magic words are…’

  “Nothing’s happened!” Nine said, her heart thumping. Eric started whimpering.

  Flabberghast tugged at his nightcap in frustration. “What?! We don’t have time for this!” He dashed to the kitchen doorway then back to the cauldron. “The smallest clock hand is on the two!”

  Flabberghast, Eric, Nine and Spoon all leaned closer over the cauldron and peered in…

  BOOM! A powdery explosion of red surged out of the cauldron and they all staggered backwards. Spoon fell off Nine’s shoulder. Eric looked into the cauldron and gave a wail of anguish. Still clutching the letter, Nine stepped forwards and, cautiously, followed his gaze. It was empty except for a few random sparks of red bouncing around inside the pot. Rage shot through every vein in Nine’s body.

  “Where’s my music box?”

  “Eric duster!” He
grasped the cauldron with both hands, lifting it up to examine it thoroughly, above and below.

  Flabberghast took a loud and quick intake of breath.

  “The letter!” he hissed, jiggling on the spot. “The magic words!”

  Nine looked down at the paper in her hand. Red, sparkling letters appeared one by one in a slow, swirly, deliberate style.

  “S-O-N-G,” read Nine. “W-I-N. W-A-R. The magic words are: SONG WIN WAR.”

  She looked at Flabberghast. His eyes began changing to sparkly silver and a look of utter joy crept across his face. He thrust his fluffy, indigo-pyjamaed arms into the air. “I hereby break the revenge curse, oh Witch!” he said in what Nine presumed was supposed to be a deep, booming voice, but sounded more like he had a very sore throat. “SONG! WIN! WAR!”

  Eric retracted his head from the cauldron and his eyes shifted nervously, left and right. Nine held her breath for a moment. Was … was that it? The jewel inside the floaty red ball was hers?

  Flabberghast, his arms still outstretched, blinked a couple of times.

  “The tea cupboard,” he whispered to Nine. “Try it, Madam! Then we’ll know if it’s worked.”

  Nine ran over to the cupboard, her satchel bouncing on her hip, and touched the handle with her free hand.

  ZAP! Eric disappeared in a puff of pink smoke. The spoon was an aardvark on a unicycle, which wobbled then fell with a crash on the floor. Nine felt herself split into four identical Nines standing in a row. Flabberghast was a purple donkey with – Nine felt a sickening lurch – Pockets’ head. Instantly, one of the Nines raised her fists ready to fight. One Nine raised her arms to defend herself. Another Nine cautiously reached out a hand to him. And the real Nine gritted her teeth and refused to show anything. Pockets stared back, mouthed “No strawberries today” and grinned. Then a moment later he was gone and Flabberghast’s face reappeared.

  The magic faded and with a dizzy, melting feeling Nine fused back into one person. Flabberghast grabbed handfuls of his hair and dashed down the hall to look at the clock. Then he galloped back again, snatched the letter from Nine and read it furiously.

  “Oi!” she snapped, snatching it back.