The Missing Magic

by Kallie George

  It didn’t switch over to the answering machine.

  Clover hung up and tried again.

  The phone rang and rang and rang once more, and then there was a click. Someone had picked up. “Hello?” asked Clover.

  Instead of a reply, there was a racking cough on the other end.

  “Dr. Nurtch, is that you?”

  There was no reply, only more coughing. And then the line went dead.

  Was that Dr. Nurtch? She sounded terrible! Was something wrong with her? Was she sick too? There was only one thing to do. If the vet couldn’t come to her, Clover had to go to the vet. She picked up Dr. Nurtch’s card, which was on the desk, and checked the address:

  THE HILLSIDE HOSPITAL

  JUST BEFORE BEYOND, THE WOODS

  She’d seen a sign for Beyond at the crossroads. If it was just before Beyond, then it couldn’t be too far away.

  She hurried to the rookery to tell Oliver.

  Oliver was standing in front of the nest of ash, his wands littered around him on the floor like sticks. Except for one. He was waving that and muttering strange words. He turned to face her, his eyes frantic. “They’re almost out! Blowing doesn’t help. None of my wands will work either. This is bad. Really bad.”

  “Let me see,” said Clover.

  Oliver was right. The ashes weren’t brighter. Just the opposite. All that remained of the glow was a single light in the center, like the final ember in a dying fire. Before, the ashes had radiated heat, but now they seemed cold. Clover reached out a finger and lightly touched the gray powder. For a moment, it seemed like another spark burst in the ash—or was it on her fingertip? She pulled back her hand. The spark went away, and the ember in the center flickered. Her heart quickened. She leaned down and gently blew on the ash.

  Instead of glowing brighter, the ember flickered again…and a second later, it went out.

  Only the ashes remained, gray and cold and lifeless.

  “What have you done?!” cried Oliver.

  “ME?! It wasn’t me,” Clover cried back.

  “You’re right,” replied Oliver. “I should have figured this out by now. My brother would NEVER have let something like this happen. He’d have known right away what was going on. He’d have cured the sickness. I doubt Mr. Jams will let me stay here anymore….”

  “Who cares? It’s the animals you should be worrying about. Don’t you EVER think of the animals? What about Phoebe? What about HER?”

  “I—I do care!” stammered Oliver. “I’ve been trying….” He held up his wand.

  “Everything was fine before you came here with your books and wands and spells and relics. It’s all your fault. You brought this sickness to the Agency.” As she said it, Clover was sure it was true.

  “I’ve only been trying to help,” said Oliver. “But you don’t want me to. You think you know everything!”

  The pit of Clover’s stomach felt full of fire, as though her heart had lodged itself there and was beating madly.

  “I think I know everything? Me? It’s YOU who’s always saying what an EXPERT you are! Some expert! You’re only an expert at…at…being an expert! You’re annoying and stuck-up and useless! I wish…I wish you’d just leave!”

  “Fine!” said Oliver. “I don’t want to stay here anyway! Not with you!”

  He gathered up his wands, pushed his glasses up his nose, and, just like that, stormed away.

  Good riddance! thought Clover.

  She didn’t need Oliver. Dr. Nurtch was who she needed.

  I’ll get Gump to look after the Agency. He’ll do a better job anyway.

  After checking that the animals were safe and fed, Clover pocketed Dr. Nurtch’s card. She could still hear Oliver upstairs in the tower, packing, but she didn’t bother to say good-bye. There was nothing more to say. What mattered now was Phoebe and the rest of the animals.

  Heading out, she almost tripped over Dipity.

  Her kitten looked up at her and hissed.

  “Dipity, it’s just me,” she said, bending down to pet him.

  But he hissed again and bounded away.

  Careful not to step on the pearls on the path (she’d have to sweep them up later), Clover stopped for a moment at the gate to let Gump know where she was going.

  Gump stared past her stonily.

  “I can’t get Oliver to watch things because he’s leaving.”

  Gump’s expression didn’t change.

  “It’s not my fault. He WANTS to leave.”

  Gump didn’t even twitch.

  “Just look after the Agency, okay? I’m counting on you.”

  As she closed the gate behind her, she glanced at Gump again. He still didn’t blink. Not even once.

  The air was crisp, hinting at fall. In the Woods, twigs and grass crunched and crackled under Clover’s feet, like a spitting fire. That was the only sound, however. Where were the birds, the squirrels, and the chipmunks? Was it her imagination, or were they avoiding her?

  At last she reached the big tree at the crossroads.

  The sign that read BEYOND pointed straight up, which was impossible, so she checked behind the tree and found a path—a twisty narrow one—that had to be the way. She started down it. Or really, “up” was the right word, because almost immediately the path began to ascend.

  It was steep, zigzagging this way and that. Of course, she didn’t want to go all the way to Beyond. She wanted to go “Just Before.” How would she know when she’d reached it?

  Soon she found out. The trees became smaller and more craggy the higher she hiked, and on one there was a sign.

  GETTING CLOSER TO BEYOND, it read.

  Oh good, Clover thought. She was so very hot.

  She kept going until there were no trees at all, just rocks and moss.

  Another sign, tacked to a boulder, let her know she was NEARLY AT BEYOND.

  She paused to take some deep breaths, then headed up, up, up some more, on a path that hugged the mountainside. No wonder Dr. Nurtch needs Nanny, thought Clover.

  At last she came to the sign she was waiting for: JUST BEFORE BEYOND. It was on a post that stuck out from some rocks on the path.

  She’d made it. But this was a cliff in the middle of nowhere. There was no hospital here! She sighed and slumped against the rock wall.

  CREAK!

  Clover jumped up. A large door in the side of the cliff had opened, and on the door, she saw something she had missed before. It was a tiny plaque that read: HILLSIDE HOSPITAL.

  And beneath that: PLEASE WIPE DIRTY PAWS, CLAWS, OR HOOVES ON THE MAT PROVIDED.

  Below the door there was a mat, gray like the stone under it.

  Carefully, Clover pushed the door open wider and, after wiping her feet, stepped inside.

  Instead of a small, dark cave, there was a large and luminous cavern, lit by what looked like giant glowworms hanging from the ceiling. Near the entrance was a stone bench with “Healthy Pet, Happy Vet” engraved on the backrest. A tiny table beside it was covered in pamphlets, much like the pamphlets at the Agency, except these were all to do with magical-animal wellness, like Horn Health for Unicorns and Foods Scaly Animals Should Avoid. In the center of the room was a much larger table, with vet’s instruments displayed neatly on one end. Clover recognized the stethoscope and the magimeter, but the rest she didn’t.

  Although the tools looked interesting, what really caught Clover’s attention were the animals.

  The room echoed with chatters and cheeps, howls and honks. And no wonder. Circling the cavern were stalls and cages built right into the rock wall. Although some were empty, most were filled. There were owls and bats and crows, some with casts on their legs, others whose feathers were unusual colors. One owl was cheeping like a swallow. There was a wart-free toad in a tank, and a magic kitten with a tail that looked like a puppy’s, in a cage. In the biggest stall there was a horse—not just any horse, but a winged one with feathers like molten gold. One of its wings was bandaged.

  And on th
e ground, under the examining table, was a creature that Clover didn’t even know existed—a giant tortoise whose entire shell was covered in sparkling jewels. If it was hurt, its injury wasn’t obvious. Clover couldn’t see Nanny. Perhaps the goat was quarantined too.

  “Dr. Nurtch?” Clover called out. “Dr. Nurtch, are you here?”

  The vet didn’t answer.

  “Dr. Nurtch?”

  From the back of the cave, Clover heard a cough, just like she had heard on the phone. She hurried toward the sound. “Dr. Nurtch?”

  A door at the back of the room was partially open. More coughing came from behind it. Warily, Clover peeked around.

  There, propped up on pillows on a stony bed, was Dr. Nurtch. At least, so Clover thought. It was hard to tell, because the vet had changed.

  Dr. Nurtch was taller and her hair wasn’t green, it was brown. Well, half of it. And instead of lumpy, her nose was straight. She didn’t look like a troll anymore. She looked like a human. But when she saw Clover, her eyebrow raised in one piece, and Clover knew this was indeed the vet.

  “Dr. Nurtch! Are…are you sick too?”

  The vet opened her mouth as if to answer, but all that came out was more coughing. “Oh no!” cried Clover. “Dr. Nurtch, you can’t be sick! I need your help. The Agency does. The animals are getting worse. Is there anything else we can try—maybe one of your moxtures?”

  The vet shook her head feebly, then pointed at Clover with a trembling finger.

  “Me? What do you want me to do?”

  Dr. Nurtch just kept pointing, too weak to speak.

  Maybe she isn’t pointing at me, thought Clover. Behind her was the room filled with animals. “Oh! Are you worried about your patients? I’ll make sure they’re okay.”

  The vet gestured frantically, but this triggered another coughing fit.

  “Just rest, Dr. Nurtch. I’ll check on your animals. Then I’ll go. I’ll figure it out. I can do it. Just rest,” she repeated, and hurried out of the room.

  She checked the winged horse first. The horse still had its wings, so that was a good sign. If it was turning ordinary, it would be losing them, and its feathers, thought Clover.

  The winged horse snorted softly. “There, there,” said Clover. “It’s okay. I can take care of you if Dr. Nurtch can’t.” Clover gingerly reached out a hand to stroke its good wing.

  The moment her fingers touched the golden feathers, something horrible happened. A spark leapt from her fingertips. The winged horse whinnied, and Clover stumbled backward. When she regained her balance, her eyes grew wide. The winged horse’s feathers were drifting down like golden snow and melting before they reached the ground. As she watched, more and more feathers began to fall. The horse’s wings were disappearing right in front of her eyes!

  Clover gasped and backed away. Thud! Her foot hit something and she tripped. She reached out her hands to catch herself and her fingers brushed against the tortoise’s shell. Instantly, emeralds and diamonds and rubies fell to the ground, just like the winged horse’s feathers, and wisped away as if they were smoke.

  The tortoise grunted softly and his black eyes, nearly buried by wrinkles, seemed to search her own.

  Clover started to apologize, “I’m so very…” Then she caught sight of something glowing. Something reflected in the tortoise’s shiny shell.

  She inched forward to see. It was her!

  Her hair was shining with the sheen of a unicorn’s mane, her freckles sparkling like the scales of a hippocampus, her eyes flashing with the fire of a phoenix. And her hands—her hands were glowing!

  All at once she remembered…everyone commenting on her looks…the restless nights…touching Phoebe’s ashes…

  Dr. Nurtch hadn’t been pointing at the animals.

  Dr. Nurtch had been pointing at her.

  She had touched all of the animals, even Nanny when she fetched the goat for Dr. Nurtch. And she’d shaken Dr. Nurtch’s hand! And as for Oliver, there was that time that he’d bumped her while moving the fairy horses….

  Clover didn’t know how or why, but SHE was the one making everyone ordinary. And just as they were turning ordinary, she was turning MAGIC!

  She tried to remember when she had started feeling strange. Really, she hadn’t felt like herself ever since…since she had gone to Oliver’s room. Since she had put on the necklace.

  She gasped and grabbed at the necklace, pulling the charm out from under her dress. It was glowing madly, just like her fingertips. Not in a pretty way. It was sinister, like a hot coal.

  It wasn’t just an abandoned necklace at the bottom of a box. It was a relic. A WICKED relic!

  Clover tried to undo the clasp. But it was still stuck. She tried again—but it still wouldn’t come. The metal was hot, whether from her fingers or from the clasp itself she wasn’t sure. She twisted it around to have a look. The clasp wasn’t just stuck—it was sealed shut.

  There was no way to get the necklace off.

  She began to panic, yanking and pulling at it. If she couldn’t get the necklace off, she’d never be able to touch a magical animal again without draining its power. She’d ruined everything. She was cursed.

  It was all her fault. If only she had left Oliver’s things alone! As much as she was jealous of Oliver—yes, jealous, she could see that now—she didn’t want to be Oliver. She wanted to be herself.

  Sense not spells, that was her. She took a deep breath. She couldn’t take the necklace off, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a way.

  She needed to get back to the Agency. “Now I understand, Dr. Nurtch!” she called, leaping to her feet. “I know what’s causing the sickness. But don’t worry, I’m going to get help!”

  There was only one person who could help her. Only one person who might know what to do, because he was an expert in things like this.

  She needed Oliver.

  Clover raced back. Past “Nearly” and “Getting Closer,” past the tree at the crossroads, along the path to the Agency. As she ran, she felt the necklace’s heat building inside of her. Could they fix what the charm had done? Would the animals ever be themselves again? Would SHE ever be herself again?

  “Please, please let Oliver be there,” she whispered.

  He wasn’t in the front room or the small animals’ room, or the stables. Clover raced upstairs, into his room. He wasn’t there either.

  Neither was his egg-shaped pillow or his egg-patterned blanket. The desk was cleared of books and papers and the wand-rack. Even the paperweight was gone. Oliver had left and taken everything with him. She was too late.

  But if Oliver had taken everything, that meant his suitcase would be heavy….And his wands weren’t working, so he couldn’t use magic. Maybe she could catch up to him? He couldn’t have gotten far.

  That’s when she heard the barking.

  Picnic was barking at something. It couldn’t be a customer. She’d locked the front door behind her because of the quarantine. And it wasn’t coming from the front room anyway. It was coming from the stables.

  There were a million reasons Picnic might be barking. But somehow, Clover’s heart knew exactly why. She raced down the stairs.

  Oliver was sitting in the hay at the very back of the stables, with his suitcase beside him and his head in his hands. Picnic barked again when he saw Clover, then turned back to Oliver and began to lick his face.

  All at once, Clover felt a cool wash of relief.

  “You’re still here!”

  Oliver didn’t look up, only mumbled, “I was just leaving…out the back door.”

  “Oh no. Please don’t!” said Clover.

  “That’s not what you said before.”

  “I—I know…” stammered Clover. “I…I was upset and, well, I…I wasn’t myself.” She pointed to the necklace, no longer hidden under her dress. The charm was still glowing madly. “Look, Oliver.”

  He didn’t look up. He just mumbled, “I should go. I know I should. I might be a magical animal expert, but
when it comes to actually working with magical animals, I’m an amateur. That’s why I convinced Mr. Jams to let me stay here, so I could gain some practical experience. My brother has no problem working with animals. He, as my parents so often say, is a natural. Like you. But not me.”

  Clover couldn’t believe it. “So…you aren’t here to take over my job when summer ends?” she stammered.

  “Take over? I can’t even feed a unicorn.” Oliver slumped even lower.

  There was a long silence. Picnic whimpered and nudged Oliver’s leg with his nose. Oliver didn’t move. Clover shook her head. Oliver was jealous of her. She had no idea. All this time, she had been jealous of him!

  “You’re wrong,” said Clover softly. “Plum loves your cinnamon-raisin oatmeal.”

  Oliver looked at her and smiled. His face was red and wet. “Really?”

  “Yes.” Clover cleared her throat. “But Plum isn’t Plum anymore. None of the animals are themselves. And I’m not me either. Listen. I went to Dr. Nurtch’s. I touched some animals. And I made them sick. Or at least, this thing did.”

  She held out the glowing charm.

  Oliver’s eyes went wide. “What IS that?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “Well, where did it come from?”

  “Remember when you and Mr. Jams found me in your room? It was at the bottom of the box your brother sent you, and I took it.”

  “You took my relic?!” said Oliver.

  “It was hidden at the bottom. I didn’t think it was important. I thought it had been dropped in the box by accident.” Clover paused. She took a deep breath. “Still, I…I did take it. And I’m really sorry….”

  “Sorry?” Oliver peered at it more closely. “It’s simply fascinating!”

  “But, Oliver, it won’t come off!”

  “Oh!” said Oliver, his brow creasing.

  “I think the clasp has sealed shut. And it’s the reason the animals are all sick. What is it? Where is it from? What has it done? There must be a book somewhere that could tell us….”