Double, Double, Toil and Truffle

by H. Y. Hanna

  Pomona sucked a breath in. “You’re learning revenge spells!”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Evie raised her chin and met Pomona’s eyes defiantly. “Yes, I am.”

  Caitlyn frowned, puzzled. “But why wouldn’t Aunt Bertha approve—”

  “Because revenge spells use black magic. Hexes and curses and other awesome stuff,” Pomona cut in, looking at Evie excitedly. “Holy guacamole, are you telling me that you’ve been practising some real revenge spells? That is so cool! That is—”

  “Pomona!”

  The American girl shrugged. “It is kinda cool, you know.”

  “It’s not cool at all!” said Caitlyn. “If black magic is dangerous then you shouldn’t be messing with it, Evie.”

  “It’s okay if you know how to control it,” said Evie defensively. “Besides, you only use the spells on people who really deserve it… like… like those mean girls at school who make fun of me every day and make my life a misery!”

  Pomona tilted her head to one side. “You know, I sorta agree. I mean, in that situation—what?” She broke off as she saw Caitlyn frowning at her. “Aww, c’mon, Caitlyn! Haven’t you ever wanted to ‘get even’? I mean, if I could work magic—man, I’d be cursing and hexing everyone who ever crossed me—”

  “Pomona!”

  Pomona gave a long-suffering sigh, then said, in her best “big sister voice”: “Okay… I suppose Caitlyn is right, Evie. You probably shouldn’t be messing around with black magic and stuff—”

  “But I’m tired of being picked on!” Evie clenched her fists, her voice rising. “I’m not going to just accept it anymore. See, I found a book of old spells, with a couple of revenge curses, and I’ve been practising late at night, in bed. I’m going to show them! If they thought Minerva and her stupid fake magic was so impressive, wait until I show them some real witchcraft!”

  “Evie,” said Caitlyn gently. “I know you’re really upset, but I don’t think—”

  She was interrupted by the sound of malicious laughter and her heart sank as she turned and saw a group of high school girls approaching them. Beside her, Evie stiffened and took an involuntary step backwards.

  “Well, well… look who’s here!” said the girl at the head of the group—a pretty brunette with wide blue eyes and freckles on her nose. Like the other girls, she carried a rucksack with a rolled-up sleeping bag and looked like she was about to set out on a camping trip. “If it isn’t Skinny-Scrawny Evie, the string-bean witch!”

  The other girls burst into giggles and Evie flushed bright red. The first girl came up boldly and eyed the brownie chunks on the tray.

  “Ooh… what’s this? What have you been cooking up in your cauldron, Evie? Looks like chunks of poo! I knew you witches ate some pretty weird stuff but I thought even you would draw the line at eating shi—”

  “They’re… they’re chocolate hazelnut brownies,” said Evie in a tight voice. “They’re samples from my grandmother’s shop.”

  “Really?” The other girl gave the brownie morsels a contemptuous look. “Well, I suppose you’d have to give out free samples since that’s the only way anyone would eat anything from that pokey little shop.”

  Pomona bristled and started to say something, but the other girl held up her hands and put on a mock apologetic face, saying:

  “Okay, okay, sorry—I didn’t mean it. I was just messing around.” She gave Evie a friendly smile. “Hey, listen, I’ve got a question for you…”

  Evie eyed her warily. “Y-yes?”

  “If you had no feet, would you wear socks?”

  Evie looked confused. “I… I don’t understand.”

  The girl exchanged a look with her friends, who sniggered. “It’s a simple question, Evie—would you wear socks if you had no feet?”

  “No… I suppose not…”

  The other girl grinned. “Then why do you wear a bra?”

  The other girls burst out laughing while Evie went pale, then red with humiliation. She crossed her arms protectively across her flat chest.

  Pomona made an angry noise in her throat and said: “Hey! That’s not funny.”

  The freckle-faced girl gave her an innocent look. “I’m genuinely curious. I mean, I don’t get it—Evie’s a witch, isn’t she? So why can’t she use magic to give herself some boobs?” She turned back to Evie. “Sharon Caughey says she saw you changing in PE class and there were just, like, two mosquito bites on your chest!”

  The rest of the group went into peals of laughter. Evie made a half-sobbing sound and Caitlyn felt a surge of anger at the other girl’s cruelty. She had terrible insecurities about her own body too—although hers were about her big hips—and she knew first-hand the anguish that Evie must have been suffering. She could see that Pomona was seething and about to open her mouth and deliver a big put-down, but before either of them could speak, Evie stepped forwards.

  “T-take that back, Nadia…” she said, trembling. “Say you’re sorry or I’ll… I’ll—”

  “Oooh… are you, like, the Wicked Witch of Westcote now?” Nadia tossed her hair and laughed. “What are you going to do—hex me and turn me into a toad? Or wait… wait… maybe a goat?” She giggled. “Or a chicken?” She tucked her hands into her armpits and flapped her elbows up and down, making mock chicken sounds.

  The other girls chortled and some of them began copying Nadia. Evie stared at them clucking and flapping their arms at her. There was a wild look in her eyes which made Caitlyn nervous. She reached out to put a hand on her young cousin’s arm but Evie shrugged it off.

  “S-stop it!” Evie said to her classmates. “STOP IT!”

  The other girls just clucked even louder. Evie cried out in despair, then she raised her arms suddenly and shouted:

  “To those who seek to do me harm,

  I hereby cast this magic charm,

  For all the pain you lay on me,

  I will avenge with sorcery!

  “Behold, beware—I enter the fray,

  Forever will you rue this day,

  No more will you mock and howl,

  For you will suffer a fate most foul!”

  “Evie, no!” gasped Caitlyn.

  There was a flash and a boom, like thunder, then smoke billowed around them, leaving Caitlyn and Pomona coughing. They waved the smoke away frantically and looked around for Evie, then their jaws dropped open as they saw her… surrounded by a flock of chickens.

  “Evie, what did you do?” whispered Caitlyn.

  A hen with freckled feathers and wide blue eyes cocked its head and looked at her. “Bok… bok-bok?”

  “Oh man—she’s turned them all into chickens!” laughed Pomona, clapping her hands.

  “I… I didn’t mean to…” stammered Evie. “I just wanted… I was trying to… to reflect their negativity back at them and—”

  “Yeah, well, I think the hoodoo-voodoo thingy got a bit mixed up and thought you said ‘fowl’ instead of ‘foul’,” said Pomona with a chuckle.

  Evie clasped both hands around her face. “What am I going to do?” she whispered.

  “Can’t you just turn them back?” asked Caitlyn. “What about that ‘Undo’ spell that you told me about last time?”

  “It’s not that simple for revenge spells,” said Evie miserably. “They’re protected, so that the victim can’t break them easily. Even the caster can’t just… um… deactivate the spell if they change their mind. Besides… I don’t know exactly what I did, so how can I undo it?”

  Pomona gave a wicked grin. “You could always just leave them as chickens…”

  “Pomona!” Caitlyn said in exasperation.

  The American girl held her hands up in a gesture of mock surrender. “Hey… it was just a suggestion… I mean, you gotta agree it’s kinda funny. Look at them…” She gestured to one of the hens which was trying to peck the other, and the two chickens began to fight, flapping their wings and squawking.

  “BOK… BOK-BOK-BOK… BOK… BOK… BOOOOK!”

>   Pomona laughed out loud but Caitlyn frowned at her.

  “It isn’t funny, Pomie! We’ve got to figure out how to change them back before anyone misses them—”

  “Where’s Nadia? Have you seen my daughter?”

  They heard a babble of voices and whirled to see a group of middle-aged women coming out of the village pub. One of them was a dark-haired woman who bore more than a passing resemblance to Nadia and—Caitlyn stared in horror—the woman next to her was Vera Bottom. Of all the people in the village, Jeremy Bottom’s witch-hating sister was the last person they needed right now. What if she finds out that Evie turned her classmates into chickens? It would confirm every prejudice she had against witches!

  “Oh my goddess—that’s Nadia’s mother!” gasped Evie, staring at the approaching women. “What are we going to do?”

  Pomona prodded Caitlyn’s arm and indicated the hens. “I know! Why don’t you change them into chocolate?”

  “What? It’s bad enough that the girls have been turned into chickens—you want me to turn them into chocolate too?” spluttered Caitlyn.

  “Shhh! They’re here!” hissed Evie, as the women suddenly arrived at the stall.

  “What are you girls doing?” Vera demanded.

  Pomona put on her sunniest smile and said: “We’re giving out chocolate brownie samples—want some?” She held out a tray.

  Vera flinched away as if she had been offered some poison. “No! I’m not eating any of your filthy bewitched chocolates.”

  “Well, you’re missing out,” said Pomona, shoving a large chunk into her mouth and chewing noisily. “They’re really good.”

  “Have any of you seen my daughter Nadia?” asked the girl’s mother, obviously making an effort to be polite. “She was supposed to meet me outside the pub before she went off on her camping trip. Evie, you’re at school with Nadia, aren’t you?”

  “Um… y-yes, Mrs Green,” stammered Evie, trying not to look at the chickens at her feet.

  Vera, however, was surveying them suspiciously. “Where did all these hens come from?”

  Pomona shrugged. “We’re in the country, right? There are chickens everywhere.”

  “Bok-bok!” one of the hens agreed.

  “We don’t have chickens wandering around the village in Tillyhenge,” said Vera with a disdainful sniff. “They must belong to someone.”

  “Oh, they probably belong to one of the farms nearby. They’re, like, really free range,” said Pomona, grinning. Then she turned to Mrs Green and added smoothly, “By the way, Nadia asked us to tell you that she couldn’t hang around—she had to go.”

  Mrs Green frowned. “Really? That’s strange. She wanted me to give her some extra money and I’m sure—”

  “Did you hear about the terrible murder?” Caitlyn asked, trying to change the subject.

  Vera stiffened and all the women exchanged uneasy glances.

  “If you mean that evil woman who was flaunting herself as a witch, then yes—the police just came into the pub and told us. But you won’t get any sympathy from me,” stated Vera coldly. “Minerva Chattox deserved what she got.”

  Caitlyn was taken aback. She hadn’t liked Minerva either—the woman had obviously been a con artist and had done some despicable things, taking advantage of vulnerable people—but no one deserved such a horrible death. Her thoughts must have shown in her expression because Vera leaned forwards and added, in a low, venomous voice so that only Caitlyn could hear:

  “But of course you’d feel sorry for her, wouldn’t you? Don’t think I don’t know what you are, Miss Le Fey… Don’t think your money and celebrity connections, or your friendship with Lord Fitzroy, are going to protect you… I’m going to find a way to destroy your kind—you and that crazy old woman in the chocolate shop and all her family… I’m going to find a way to rid this village of witches if it’s the last thing I do!”

  Before Caitlyn could think of how to react or reply, Vera had turned and was striding away, with the rest of the women following her.

  “What did she say?” asked Evie.

  Caitlyn let out her breath slowly. She didn’t want to admit it, but Vera’s aggression had been intimidating.

  “Um… nothing much,” she mumbled, not wanting to relive the comments again and definitely not wanting to inflict them on Evie as well.

  “Er… guys? We’ve got a slight problem,” called Pomona, pointing to a couple of the hens which were strutting off.

  “Oh no! We need to keep them together until we can figure out how to change them back,” cried Caitlyn. “Quick! We need to catch them!”

  They launched themselves after the chickens, and the village green became a chaos of squawking and flying feathers. The hens scattered in all directions and the girls chased after them manically. They were just congratulating themselves on managing to herd them all back together when Evie gave a gasp of dismay.

  “Oh my goddess—there’s Mum!” she cried, staring across the village green to the lane next to the pub. A woman in a woollen shawl and purple kaftan was just coming down the lane. “We can’t let her see the chickens!”

  “Why not?” asked Caitlyn. “She’ll be able to help us reverse the spell.”

  “NO! If she sees the chickens, she’ll know what I did—and then she’ll know that I was practising revenge spells,” cried Evie. “Please! We can’t let her know!”

  “But Evie…” Caitlyn hesitated. She knew that turning to her aunt was the logical thing to do, but Evie was staring at her with such pleading eyes that she didn’t have the heart to insist. “Anyway, I don’t see how we can hide the chickens from her? She’ll be out on the green in a minute and she’ll see us for sure.”

  Evie looked frantically around, then pointed at a Volkswagen Beetle parked nearby, in a quiet corner of the village green. “That’s your car, isn’t it? We can put them in there!”

  “What? I’m not putting a bunch of chickens in my car!”

  “Please!”

  Pomona didn’t wait for Caitlyn to respond. Lunging, she scooped up two hens and, clutching them close to her chest, ran towards the car.

  “Open the door!” she yelled at Caitlyn.

  “Pomie—we can’t… Oh, fine!”

  Huffing irritably, Caitlyn unlocked the car and the three girls grabbed the rest of the hens and bundled them unceremoniously into the vehicle. Then Pomona jumped into the driver’s seat and waved the other two girls in.

  “Where are we going?” asked Caitlyn breathlessly as she slid into the front passenger seat.

  “I don’t know—let’s just get away before Bertha gets here,” muttered Pomona, flooring the accelerator pedal.

  The car swung around the village green with a squeal of its breaks, passing an astonished Bertha who had just seen them and was raising a hand to wave. They careened out of the village, with Pomona driving so fast that the car dipped and bounced through every bump in the road, and the chickens flapped and squawked with every lurch.

  “BOK… BOK-BOK-BOK… BOK… BOK… BOOOOK!”

  In a minute, they were out of the woods and turning onto the motorway which passed Tillyhenge and led farther into the Cotswolds countryside. But they had barely been driving a few minutes when they heard the ominous wail of sirens.

  “Oh crap…” said Pomona, glancing at the flashing blue lights on the car behind them.

  Reluctantly, she slowed down and pulled over on the side of the road. A few minutes later, she was facing a stern-faced police officer outside the car. Rolling down the window, Pomona batted her eyelashes and gave him her brightest smile. The man blinked and, for a moment, Caitlyn thought they might get away with it. She’d seen her cousin flirt and sweet-talk her way out of tight corners more than once. Pomona might not have been a witch, but she had powers of seduction worthy of any high sorceress. Then the spell was broken as a chicken suddenly thrust its head out of the driver’s window and said:

  “Bok… bok?”

  The officer jumped backwards in s
urprise. “What the hell…?”

  He recovered himself, then leaned down to peer into the car. Three girls and five chickens stared back at him.

  “Miss… do you realise you were doing twenty miles over the speed limit?” He scratched his head. “And why do you have chickens loose in your car?”

  “Oh, Officer, I can explain everything,” said Pomona, batting her eyelashes furiously. “I’m so sorry about the speeding—I was distracted and didn’t realise I was going so fast… we’re rushing to get these chickens to the vet, you see… they’ve got… um… explosive diarrhoea… and I was trying to get them there as fast as possible.”

  The officer had stepped back hastily at the words “explosive diarrhoea” and now eyed the chickens warily as he said, “But why aren’t they in a cage or some kind of container? You do realise that the Highway Code says animals must be suitably restrained when they are travelling in a vehicle, otherwise you could be liable for fines of up to five thousand pounds?”

  Pomona gulped. Then she gave him another brilliant smile and batted her eyelashes even more. At this rate, she’s going to sprain an eyelid, thought Caitlyn.

  “Oh, I didn’t know, Officer—I’m so sorry! I’m American, you see, and I didn’t know about the English laws.” Pomona adopted a ridiculously exaggerated Texan drawl and winked at him. “You see, honey, back home, we drive our buffalo all over the ranch just loose in the car—er, I mean, jeep—I mean, pick-up truck!”

  Oh brother. Caitlyn resisted the urge to groan. The closest Pomona had ever got to “buffalo” was wolfing down some buffalo wings at her favourite Tex-Mex restaurant back in LA It was so ridiculous, she couldn’t believe anyone would fall for her cousin’s nonsense. And yet the officer was starting to grin and his eyes had a familiar glazed look that Caitlyn knew only too well.

  “Well, I suppose I can let you off this time,” he said gruffly, trying to maintain a stern expression. “But please be more careful in the future.”

  A few minutes later, he walked away with a slightly besotted expression on his face… and Pomona’s number in his pocket. Caitlyn shook her head in disbelief as they rejoined the motorway, this time at a more sedate pace.