The House at the Edge of Magic

by Amy Sparkes

  Flabberghast marched around the kitchen kicking every cupboard he could find. “I said your magic words!” he bellowed to the air. “What more do you want?”

  “Witch clever,” sighed Eric.

  “All right. What exactly was your disagreement about?” asked Nine, feeling her patience trickle away to nothing. The wizard kicked the tall hat-stand in the corner. He yelped as the hat-stand sprouted a leg from nowhere and kicked him back.

  “Come on! Think about what the magic words mean. Is there something else you’re supposed to do?” Nine snapped. The wealth … the escape… No, no no! This was slipping through her fingers like another lost purse.

  “SONG WIN WAR? They mean nothing to me!” shouted Flabberghast, rubbing his shin.

  “That witch is clever,” said Spoon.

  “Will you all stop saying that!” roared Flabberghast in despair.

  “Flabby?” Eric whimpered behind them in a slightly wobbly voice.

  Flabberghast ignored the troll and threw his arms wide in despair. “We’re doomed. Shrink into nothing. Cease to exist.” His eyes grew distant and unfocused. “I wonder if it’s like growing backwards, but more painful. I bet she’ll make it painful.”

  “Flabby?” came Eric’s voice a little higher, a little wobblier.

  Nine grasped hold of the wizard’s arms and gave him a shake. “The words! THINK! I need that jewel!”

  “Do you believe I am unaware of the severity of the situation? Oddly enough, I have no desire to cease existing! Breaking the curse is not about you, Madam. And I hardly think—”

  “I’ve noticed!”

  “FLABBY?” wailed Eric at the top of his voice.

  “FLAB – BER – GHAST! Would three syllables actually kill you?!” snapped Flabberghast as he and Nine both whirled around irritably to face the troll.

  “WHAT?!” bellowed Nine.

  Eric twisted his tail and pointed to the witch’s letter. The parchment was vibrating furiously, as if it was about to explode. Suddenly, all the words on the letter burst off the page and hurtled around the room in every direction.

  “What!” cried Nine, flinching as the word ‘fool’ flew at her only to vanish right in front of her eyes. “What now?”

  They stared at the blank parchment. Swirly scarlet writing appeared, each word flashing onto the page, then quickly fading:

  ‘CATCH ME IF YOU CAN’

  The parchment rose into the air, rolled itself into a long, thin, almost certainly unpleasant cylinder – and knocked Flabberghast’s nightcap from his head. Then the parchment hurtled towards the arched door in the corner and slammed itself at the keyhole. Before anyone could move, it transformed into a long scroll the width of a pin, squeezed through the keyhole and disappeared.

  “Oh no,” said Flabberghast, placing his nightcap back on his head. “She hasn’t.”

  “She flamin’ has!” roared Spoon, drawing his sword from the sheath tied around his tartan pyjamas.

  “So she’s taken the parchment through the keyhole,” said Nine, running over to the door and trying the handle. “Fine, we’ll just unlock it and get it back. Come on, we need to get to…” She held her breath for a second, as the realisation hit her.

  “The other side of this door.” She turned around to face the others, who stood there, staring back doubtfully. “With the Sometimes…” Nine looked at Flabberghast and swallowed louder than she meant to. “…Dead.”

  “Indeed,” said Flabberghast, with a warning tone. “And there’s one more problem.”

  Oh no,” Nine said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Tell me you have a key.”

  Flabberghast sighed loudly.

  “The one door we need to get into RIGHT NOW,” said Nine, feeling about to explode, “and there’s no key?” Flabberghast covered his eyes with his hand and walked around in a circle. “But – but why is there no key?” said Nine, throwing her hands up in the air.

  Flabberghast whirled around to face her. “If you had the Sometimes Dead living next door, I promise you, Madam, you would ensure there was no key as well!”

  Eric began slamming his bulk against the door. Spoon joined in, dodging occasionally to avoid being squished by the door-slamming troll.

  “Sometimes – Sometimes – why are they Sometimes Dead?”

  “Because, Madam,” retorted Flabberghast, joining the others in throwing his weight against the door, “sometimes – they’re – not!”

  Nine stood and stared at the three inhabitants of this extraordinary and ridiculous House slamming their bodies repeatedly against the door. It didn’t budge.

  “Stop!” Nine said, “That isn’t going to work!”

  They kept on slamming into the door. In desperation, she went over to the tea cupboard and touched the handle.

  ZAP! Nine was a clock, the hands whizzing backwards 3 – 2 – 1 – 15 – and the others—

  A sick jolt hit Nine’s stomach. Flabberghast, Eric and Spoon began to slowly shrink and shrink… Nine swallowed hard as the magic wore off and the three were restored to their normal size.

  “Hitting the door is NOT going to work,” she said, trying to shake the image of shrinking from her head.

  “Perhaps we speak the magic words into the keyhole!” said Flabberghast desperately. He bent down and put his mouth to the keyhole. “SONG WIN WAR!” he declared.

  Without warning, the handle mutated into a human hand and grabbed the wizard’s nose, holding him with a vice-like grip.

  “Do something!” said Flabberghast, in a muted, nasal squeak. Spoon and Eric flew into action: the Spoon stabbing the fist; Eric trying and failing to prise open the fingers. But the handle-hand would not let go.

  “Lassie!” cried Spoon. “You’d better have a trick up your sleeve.”

  Nine put her hand to her head. “There’s no key for that door, no key… Is there another one that might work if we forced it?”

  “No, Madam!” squeaked Flabberghast. “Of course there’s not!”

  Nine’s eyes fell on The Secret Book of Secrets and How to Uncover Them, which sat silently, keeping its secrets on the table. She put the book to her mouth, glanced at the others, and whispered, “I really like Flabberghast’s unicorn socks.” She moved her face away quickly as the book sprung open. Hurriedly she turned to the contents page.

  “There was something about keys,” she said, scrolling her finger down the list. “Here! ‘Enter Secret Places: How to Make a Skeleton Key’!” Nine cried. “We need to make a skeleton key.” She looked at the others. “What’s a skeleton key?”

  “One key, any lock,” said Spoon. “I bought one from a dodgy elf once, when I needed to get my hands on some equipment.”

  “Well, hurry up,” said Flabberghast, flapping his hands. “Go and fetch it.”

  “Nae, lad. Professor Dish has it now.” His eyes darkened.

  “Oh, how brilliant!” snapped Flabberghast, his eyes watering. “And why is there never a dodgy elf around when you need one?”

  “A skeleton key!” said Nine as an idea flashed into her mind. “We don’t need to make one. I reckon we’ve already got one.”

  “As usual, Madam, you make absolutely no sense!” squeaked Flabberghast.

  But Nine dashed to the hallway staircase and ran up two steps at a time. On the landing, up the rickety staircase – to the closet. She yanked open the door and ran her eyes over the skeleton. What? Which bone would work? Was this completely beyond reason? Mind you, in this House, how could you tell?

  “I’m … you know…” She cleared her throat awkwardly, hating having to say this unfamiliar word, “sorry about this. I’ve got no choice. The witch is very clever.”

  She reached in and grabbed a bit of the skeleton’s finger on the right hand. There was a sickening snapping sound. Nine grimaced. “Promise we’ll bring it back.”

  “Of course, help yourself,” rattled the skeleton, huffily, as Nine slammed the closet door shut. “Doesn’t occur to anyone I might want my finger!”
/>   Nine ran back along the landing, satchel bouncing.

  “Or be brought out for a nice change of scene!” boomed the skeleton after her. “Perhaps have my ribs dusted…”

  Nine dashed back down the rickety staircase and the plum-carpeted steps, trying not to think about rib-dusting. She glanced at the clock as she ran past and was flooded by a sensation of almost unbearable panic. The smallest hand was heading past the 1, back up to the 15 at the top. No! She was so close – so close – to getting the jewel!

  As she entered the kitchen, she saw Eric wringing his tail and the spoon standing on Flabberghast’s head, desperately trying to pull his sword out of the handle’s knuckle. Nine poked the finger bone into the lock and wiggled it left and right. Come on. Left and right. COME ON!

  CLUNK! The handle-hand released Flabberghast’s nose so quickly and violently that he staggered backwards and landed bottom-first in the bucket of orange ceiling slime.

  “Will someone please empty that bucket?!” Flabberghast shouted as he quickly pulled himself up. The handle-hand transformed back into a handle, sending Spoon and his sword flying through the air and crashing back into Flabberghast, making him lose his balance and land in the bucket. Again.

  Flabberghast rubbed his nose and looked at Nine. She tucked the finger bone key into her satchel and stared back at him.

  “Nearly on the fifteen,” she said. “We’re going in.” Cautiously she put her hand on the handle. Then, when it didn’t attempt to grab her face, she turned it and pushed. The door was heavier and stiffer than she expected but back it went, scraping a little on the stone step.

  “The door was locked long ago by my great-great-great-grandfather. I was told as a child never to open it. I’d stake my best nightcap that’s exactly why the witch has made us open it.”

  “Quite probably,” said Nine, trying to peer into the darkness.

  “We die?” whimpered Eric.

  “Quite probably,” growled Spoon, hopping onto Nine’s shoulder.

  Nine crept onto the stone step on the other side of the door. Whatever was down there wasn’t going to be a bowl of strawberries…

  “Come on,” she whispered and began to slowly tiptoe down the stone steps, grateful for the light coming from the kitchen behind them. Flabberghast and Eric followed behind as they edged down the spiral staircase. Nine rested one hand against the wall, feeling the cold, uneven stone on her skin. The air was cold as the grave.

  “At least we can always get out if we need to,” muttered Flabberghast.

  Nine glanced up at the doorway, almost obscured by Eric’s form on the stairs. She could always get out … get out of the House if she needed to. She could run for it. Should she run for it? Forget the jewel, forget freedom…

  Out of nowhere, a familiar icy breeze whooshed up towards them from below, passing through Nine’s body like a freezing blade, before it dashed up the stone steps, out of the door and—

  SLAM. Blackness. Last chance gone.

  “I really think you should stop talking,” hissed Nine as a cold, sick feeling settled in her chest. An indignant huff came from behind.

  Suddenly Flabberghast bumped into Nine, almost overbalancing her. Her heart shot into her mouth as Spoon clung onto her neck. Nine caught her balance and took a deep breath.

  “Oops,” said a sorry-sounding troll voice behind them.

  “Watch your step!” hissed Spoon.

  “Shhh!” whispered Nine and Flabberghast.

  The next second Nine was shoved violently forward, losing her footing. She flung out her arms as she tumbled down the steps and came to a thumping halt on damp, stony ground with a wizard’s knee in her back and a spoon in her ear. A large force then rolled into them all.

  “More oops,” said the large force, which sounded a lot like Eric.

  They scrambled to their feet. In the pitch black, Nine could sense Flabberghast standing up in front of her. She jumped a little as she felt the spoon land on her shoulder again. She stretched out her arms sideways and felt the damp, cold walls of…

  “A tunnel?” she whispered as they edged forwards in darkness.

  “Just a short passage down to the crypt—” Flabberghast stopped talking. And moving. With a soft thud, Nine walked into him. With a hard thud, Eric walked into Nine. Instinctively she caught the spoon as he flew off her shoulder.

  “What is it?” she hissed to the wizard.

  Flabberghast made a loud gulping sound and then continued to creep forward. “Ohhhh dear. I have a terrible feeling … it is just remotely possible … I may have made a slight … miscalculation.”

  “You’d better not have done, laddie,” said Spoon. “Ask any scientist. Miscalculations can be deadly!”

  But Flabberghast said nothing. Nine felt him creep forward more slowly than before. Suddenly the walls of the passage opened up. They all huddled together in the darkness.

  Silence. Still silence. Unbearable, doom-bringing silence.

  “Now what?” whispered Flabberghast.

  “I don’t know, do I?” hissed Nine.

  “Well, think of something!”

  “In case you hadn’t realised, I’m not actually an expert in this curse-breaking business!”

  “Fear not, Madam,” hissed Flabberghast, “I reached that conclusion long ago.”

  “Are you two quite finished?” came a clear, strong female voice. A voice that Nine recognised.

  The witch: she was here. Nine’s heart leapt to her throat and Flabberghast drew in a sharp breath.

  “I mean, I hate to interrupt you, really I do,” continued the voice, “just, I thought there was a more pressing matter to which to attend. Apart from anything else, the residents down here seem rather … restless.”

  Nine could feel Flabberghast and Eric edging closer to her and she fought back the instinct to say “Don’t touch”. There was the sound of someone clicking their fingers and then a whooshing roar of flame as wall-mounted wooden torches burst into light all around the room.

  They were standing in a crypt with vaulted stone arches stretching across the ceiling. Elaborately carved thick pillars lined the crypt on each side. Dotted around beside these pillars were nine tombs with a stone effigy of a figure carved on each top. Facing them at the end of the room was a white marble statue of a queen sitting on a throne, wielding a sword in one hand and a set of scales in the other.

  “Ohhhh dear,” said Flabberghast, edging closer to Eric.

  Without warning, the stone queen stood up from her throne. Nine gasped and stepped backwards. The statue began to shake more and more violently.

  “What –” began Nine.

  “– the –” said Spoon.

  “Devil?” said Flabberghast.

  Suddenly, the white marble exploded. Nine and the others shielded their eyes and ducked as showers of pale stone flew towards them. They looked up to see the witch, with her silky tumble of red hair and elaborate black crinoline dress, standing in the crypt, looking right at them.

  Because this time, she had a face.

  She seemed only a few years older than Nine but had piercing blue eyes that looked as strangely ancient and deep as the sea, and there was something else about her face that was familiar, but Nine couldn’t put her finger on it…

  Flabberghast gulped extremely loudly.

  “Hello, Flabberghast,” said the witch in her dangerously smooth voice. She cocked her head slightly to one side, smiled sweetly and widened her eyes. “Let’s play!”

  Flabberghast immediately turned for the staircase.

  “Uh-uh-uh…” sang the witch, waggling her finger in the air. Strands of red lightning shot out from her fingertips, stretched across to Flabberghast and grabbed hold of him. He froze mid-dash. The witch turned her outstretched hands palm up and slowly wiggled her fingers. The red lightning forced Flabberghast to turn around against his will. His terrified eyes stared at her.

  “You. Who are you?” demanded Nine, her mouth dry and her heart thumping.

/>   “Who am I? You mean he hasn’t told you?” said the witch, giving Flabberghast a look of disapproval. She tutted. “I’m his sister.”

  “Of course! It’s the nose!” said Nine, looking at the witch’s flared nostrils. “That’s what looks familiar.” Then another thought struck her as she looked from the witch to Flabberghast. Good grief. There’s two of them.

  Things started to make sense. The disagreement between the witch and Flabberghast … the way she knew his worst fears… “But what is it that you want?” said Nine.

  The witch smiled sweetly again. “Revenge.”

  “For what exactly?” said Nine, cautiously.

  “This ridiculous excuse for a wizard turned my hair pink for Auntie Griselda the Unruly’s wedding. I detest pink!”

  “Well, she cursed my hopscotch robes!” said Flabberghast, “in the middle of the championships! Every time I hopped I turned into a rabbit!”

  The witch let out a shrill, tinkly laugh then stopped suddenly and narrowed her eyes. “He turned my pet dragon into a toy and then made him vanish!”

  “She froze me in time for a week – I missed my own birthday!”

  Nine stared at them in disbelief. “A squabble. This is about a squabble?”

  “He BANISHED me from this House!”

  “It was only going to be until you apologised—”

  “Me apologise?” laughed the witch. “You didn’t even do the spell terribly well, dearest. You cast it over the House but forgot to include the crypt in the banishment!”

  “A slight miscalculation! I just forgot to include anything below ground!”

  “I realised your unbelievable stupidity when I delivered the letter yesterday. Strolling round the outside of the House, for old times’ sake,” she sighed dramatically. “There was a break in the magic, right around the back door to the crypt. Did you forget about that, dearest? Down the stone steps underground?”

  Flabberghast grimaced. “But it was still a charm of immense complexity!”

  “Oh yes,” said the witch, her voice becoming smooth. Dangerously smooth. “And now, brother dearest, do tell them what you said through the letterbox after you banished me. Tell them why I cursed this House.”