by Ashta, Lucia
“One,” Madame Pimlish said, and Wizard Meedles looked over his shoulder not to her, but at his hounds. Just as quickly, he snapped his eyes back on Miranda. Even a second of distraction seemed like too much, and I wondered why he’d risk looking away from the sorceress’ very dangerous-looking beam of magic. The light of it alone was enough to make me squint if I tried to look straight at it.
Miranda’s magic was bad news, just as she was.
“Two.” Madame Pimlish spread her little feet out to the sides in preparation. She’d finished saying her spell, and had started moving her hands back and forth in front of her face as if they cradled a large ball.
“Three,” she yelled.
Wizard Meedles leapt out of the portal, his beam still connected to Miranda’s, keeping her from hurting us.
Madame Pimlish gasped and frantically tried to reverse the spell she’d already put in motion.
The portal started to shrink in size as the hellhounds dropped out of it behind their master. One hellhound, two, three, and the portal shrunk to half its size.
The last of the nine hellhounds squeezed through a hole just big enough for it, and then the view of Wizard Meedles fighting Miranda zipped out of sight, and my insides were being tugged far away from them.
Chapter 12
I couldn’t believe what Wizard Meedles had done. The shock of his actions reverberated through me as Madame Pimlish’s portal swept her, five firedrakes, a bat, and me away.
I barely experienced the squeamishness I expected from portaling. All I could think was that we’d left Wizard Meedles and his nine hellhounds to die. No doubt Miranda would become enraged at my escape—though I still didn’t understand why she wanted me in particular. Was it only because I’d managed to open a portal under her watch? She seemed the type who’d hold a grudge when someone one-upped her.
Madame Pimlish’s portal snapped open in the middle of the parlor of Acquaine Manor, right where I’d disappeared from in the first place, somehow pulled by my memories and Count Vabu’s interest in them.
The portal made popping noises and decided to spit me out first, very unceremoniously. I half jumped, half fell from the portal to land hard on the large, ornate rug in the parlor. The magicians gathered there, presumably discussing a rescue plan, scurried out of the way.
I tripped on my stupid skirts and stumbled. I broke my fall with my hands as my knees slapped painfully against the rug, which did little to cushion me from the hardwood floor beneath it. I groaned. Frazzled and distressed by our abandonment of Wizard Meedles, I wasn’t moving out of the way quickly enough.
Nando dashed in to place his hands under my arms and lift me to safety. I limped after him as he led me to the chaise lounge, the one I’d longed to return to. But as I fell into it, its relief wasn’t what I’d envisioned.
Things weren’t getting better; they were getting solidly and squarely worse.
The bat flitted out of the portal next, flying straight at me. I shrieked before I remembered I didn’t want to, and stiffened awkwardly as the bat landed on the back of the chaise lounge, right next to my head.
Every muscle in my body clenched while five firedrakes popped out of the portal, waddling to its edge, then hopping down, and waddling off to the side. The first out looked around, found me, and started toward me. The other four followed.
I was becoming a one-person menagerie for bizarre and magical creatures.
Distracted by the line of firedrakes heading my way, I didn’t notice that Madame Pimlish had exited the portal until the large, swirling circle of lights snapped shut.
“Where’s Marcus?” Marcelo asked as the firedrakes crowded me. Nando sat gingerly on the side of the chaise lounge, where I perched, his face a mixture of concern, astonishment, and curiosity, while the firedrakes grouped together as closely as they could next to me.
But despite the firedrakes and the bat and my brother, my attention was riveted by the conversation Marcelo was starting.
I pulled a sigh into a shaky chest and waited for Madame Pimlish’s heartbreaking response.
“Marcus is...” she started, but seemed unable to continue.
Marcelo zeroed in on her until only a foot separated them. Clara, Mordecai, Arianne, and Gustave did the same, crowding around her much like the firedrakes we’d rescued were bunching around me.
Arianne placed a caring hand on the shorter woman’s round shoulder. “Marcus is what, darling?”
Madame Pimlish put her face into her hands, and spoke from between her fingers. “Marcus stayed behind to fight off that stupid sorceress Miranda.” Then our transformations teacher broke into sobs.
Arianne brushed the others out of the way and pulled Madame Pimlish into an embrace. “It’s all right, darling. We’ll get him back. He has his hounds with him, oui?”
Madame Pimlish nodded, standing in such a way that she was rubbing her tears and dripping nose against the front of Arianne’s dress. The lady of the manor didn’t seem to care.
“Marcus’ hellhounds are formidable. Don’t worry, Prudence, we’ll get him back. We’ll start planning his rescue immediately.” Arianne sent a pointed look over Madame Pimlish’s head toward her twin, Mordecai, Marcelo, and Clara.
Mordecai nodded, the beads that capped the braids in his beard tinkling as he did. For the first time since hearing the telltale sign of the wizard, I wasn’t soothed by it. We’d left Wizard Meedles in a battle to the death. Even now, we might be to late.
Mordecai stepped closer, brought a hand up, looking as if he were considering offering Madame Pimlish some sort of comfort, then dropped it and cleared his throat. “Prudence, tell us everything. Tell us whatever we need to know to organize his rescue.”
She sniffled, moved her head back and forth, very obviously wiping her grief on Arianne’s clothing, and lifted her head. “Miranda was streaming a beam of her dark magic straight at us.” Madame Pimlish spit out the words, anger burgeoning along with her desperation to get Wizard Meedles back. “She has three dark sorcerers with her, none of whom I recognized, but they weren’t doing much of anything. They seemed frightened of her.”
“Yes, she’s a frightening woman, that one,” Mordecai said. “Once you meet her, you don’t forget her.”
Gustave nodded from behind Mordecai while Arianne looked worried, and Clara rose questioning eyebrows at her grandmother.
“So she and Marcus are locked in battle?” Marcelo prompted.
Madame Pimlish nodded sadly. Even her usually plump curls seemed to droop in defeat. “And he was starting to get tired from holding the beam for so long.”
“And you decided he should stay to allow you to escape?”
“No!” Madame Pimlish burst in a new wave of despair, and the mature magicians who surrounded her startled and took half a step back. “We didn’t decide anything. His beam of magic was locked with hers. They were equally matched, and neither beam was advancing. It was a question of whose strength would give out first.”
Marcelo and Gustave nodded.
“Go on, Prudence,” Arianne said.
“We had to get out of there, but we couldn’t so long as he was engaging with the place we were trying to leave.”
“Of course.”
“So I told him when I counted to three, I needed him to drop his beam, and I’d portal us out of there.” Madame Pimlish swayed.
Arianne clutched her. “Come, darling. This is most upsetting. Let’s get you seated.” The red-haired lady of the manor looked to the chaise lounge, which Madame Pimlish usually occupied when she was overcome by emotion, but I was already in it. She led her to an armchair. “Here, sit down, darling.”
Madame Pimlish fell more than sat, and propped her little feet into the air. I didn’t understand what she was doing until Brave scrambled to slide an ottoman under her legs.
Satisfied, she brought the back of one hand against her forehead. “When I reached three, he jumped out of the portal.” Arianne, Clara, Marie, and Gertrude all gasped. Mad
ame Pimlish nodded at their sympathy. “I tried to reverse the spell, but I couldn’t stop it. I’d already set it into motion. We were leaving.”
A few moments of silence stretched out as we all considered the gravity of the situation.
“I left Marcus fighting for his life,” Madame Pimlish whimpered.
“It was the only way,” Marcelo said, implying he would have done exactly the same thing to save the woman he loved. I wasn’t sure that Wizard Meedles loved Madame Pimlish, but he was certainly interested in her, though I’d never understand why.
Quiet tears rolled down Madame Pimlish’s face. Sadness clamped against my chest like a weight, and my own tears brimmed. I felt terrible for Wizard Meedles and his hellhounds, and for Madame Pimlish, who wasn’t likely to find love very often.
“You say his hounds remained with him?” Marcelo prodded.
“They did. They slipped out of the portal at the very last moment.”
“So he has a fighting chance.”
Madame Pimlish perked a bit. “You think?”
“I agree,” Mordecai said. “Marcus is a strong, capable magician.”
“So is Miranda,” Gustave muttered.
Mordecai ignored him. “His hellhounds are as strong and capable as he is. Hellhounds are uncommon in the magical world for a very good reason. It takes a magician of incredible skill to manage them, and beyond that, there must be a natural affinity for connection to the creatures. That’s rare to find.”
“The hellhounds will attack her, darling,” Arianne said to Madame Pimlish. “They take personal offense to dark magic.” She peered down at her. “You didn’t leave him alone. He has his hounds.”
“But Miranda was streaming fire magic at him.”
Gustave spoke up. “I’ve known Marcus a long time. I’m certain he was giving as good as she was.”
Madame Pimlish smiled in pride at her man before returning to her grief. “He was.”
“So don’t give up, darling,” Arianne said. “We’ll get him back yet.”
Madame Pimlish squeezed Arianne’s hand, and I found I didn’t dislike the transformation teacher as much as I’d thought I did.
“Maybe I can help,” a female voice sounded from behind me.
I yelped and swiveled my neck around so quickly that I strained it. “Wha—? How?” I stuttered, a hand to my already-sore neck.
I hadn’t even noticed the bat was gone from my seat.
But there, standing in all her humanness—or really, vampireness—was Priscilla, the little sister Count Vabu had set off to rescue in the first place, dragging me into this mess, and starting the chain reaction that eventually led to us leaving Wizard Meedles and his hounds behind.
Nando moved his hand to the hilt of his sword and stood.
“No, it’s all right,” I said, turning to him. That’s when I noticed that the others, even Madame Pimlish, were on edge, as if things weren’t all right at all.
I explained. “This is Priscilla, Count Vabu’s sister, the one he wanted to save.” They still didn’t relax. “She’s the one that helped us escape from Miranda’s dungeon.”
Still, no one approached her, not even the kindly Arianne. “She just said she wanted to help....” I was missing something, something big, I had the feeling. “What... what is it?” I asked.
Mordecai answered, “She has a reputation for dabbling in dark magic.”
“Oh,” I squeaked. What else was there to say?
Suddenly I noticed how closely she was standing to me, and how tall she was. And she was a vampire. I gulped.
“I said I can help, and I mean to,” Priscilla said. She didn’t seem to take offense at the others’ reaction. “For my brother.”
“Your brother left to save you,” Arianne said.
“He was on his way to Miranda’s place when I last saw him.” My voice was still squeaky; I cleared my throat. “I was looking for him when Miranda... and you found me.”
Like her brother, she barely reacted to the news. Is the family incapable of the normal range of emotions? Or maybe it was a vampire thing.
“And the firedrakes that came with you?” Arianne asked Priscilla, but I answered. “They were trying to escape Miranda. So we let them come along.” I shrugged. My life had gotten so bizarre that I’d become incapable of gauging its strangeness; I just rolled with it.
“They were trying to escape, you say?” Arianne said, taking a few steps toward the firedrakes, but stopping short. I’d expected her to go straight to them and start cooing and drawing them into her arms.
“Come, darlings,” she said to the firedrakes, beckoning them toward the center of the parlor. “Come over here so I can look at you.”
She smiled her beautiful smile at them, but the creatures hesitated. Every single one looked at me. How did I become the one they trust? “It’s all right. You can trust her. I promise.”
With my encouragement, they started waddling toward her, throwing cautious glances in my direction, as if to check for any warning I might send their way.
“That’s it, mes chéres, you beautiful creatures.”
But the moment they drew close enough for her to get a really good look at them, she gasped, brought a horrified hand to her chest, and said, “No.”
“What is it?” Gustave rushed to her side.
“Look” was her cryptic response.
He looked for a long while and then he gasped too. “I can’t believe it.”
“Oh, it’s awful, you poor things!”
“What? What is it?” I asked urgently, suddenly energized and pushing up against the chaise. Nando clamped a protective hand on my leg, his other still at his sword, his gaze locked on the potential threat Priscilla posed.
Arianne huffed and then puffed her nostrils in anger. “These,” she started, then stopped to flick her red mane over her shoulder. “These are not firedrakes at all.” She gestured wildly at the morose creatures in front of her, who looked exactly like firedrakes to me.
“What do you mean?” Marcelo asked, drawing closer, Clara by his side.
“I mean, these aren’t true firedrakes. These are people.”
Arianne was so angry she was making no sense. They weren’t people. Clearly, they were firedrakes.
“They’re people spelled to be firedrakes.”
Oh. Oh!
So far, we’d lost a wizard ghost, and now a vampire protector and a wizard and his hellhounds. We weren’t getting better at this fight against the SMS, we were getting worse.
Instead of recovering Albacus and Count Vabu, we’d been forced to abandon Wizard Meedles in a fight to the death.
And we’d returned with a dark sorceress, who was also a vampire, who claimed to want to help, but no one seemed to trust, and five firedrakes who apparently weren’t firedrakes at all.
I had no idea what at all I could do to make any of this better. But I knew I wouldn’t give up.
None of us would.
One look at the magicians who shared the parlor with me confirmed that they were even more determined than before. If the SMS thought they were winning, then I suspected they might be mistaken, because there was nothing more dangerous than a very determined and very resourceful crowd.
And we were most certainly that.
About Sorcerers’ Web
With magic, things are never what they seem.
Firedrakes infiltrate the school, then turn out not to really be drakes at all, but humans suffering from a curse. Just another day at the academy… until breaking the curse doesn’t go so well.
The Sorcerers’ dark magic is strong. Isadora might be stronger, if only she can survive long enough to figure out her powers.
Will she manage to break the curse? Or will she pay the ultimate price for trying?
For Catia,
who shares my love of reading
Belief is half the battle.
Chapter 1
I was becoming desensitized, that had to be what was going on. That’s why I wa
sn’t freaking out at the ongoing discussion.
Everyone was talking at once—well, not exactly everyone. All the experienced magicians were arguing. Each offered what they thought was a better solution to our problems.
Nando, Marie, Walt, and I remained silent, following the back and forth discussion as if we were watching a tennis match. Even Gertrude and Brave, who were beyond the novice level, did nothing to contribute to the conversation.
I didn’t blame them. We were in a whole heaping, stinking load of dung. And I had absolutely no idea how we were going to get out of it, let alone rescue the increasing number of magicians we’d lost to the Sorcerers for Magical Supremacy.
It seemed that each time we left the Magical Arts Academy we returned with fewer than we’d departed.
“We can’t just abandon him there to die by himself,” Madame Pimlish was saying.
From the look on Arianne’s face, Madame Pimlish might have repeated that exact sentence two hundred times. “We’re not leaving anyone anywhere to die, Prudence.” Gone were Arianne’s usual terms of endearment.
“He might be dead already,” Madame Pimlish whimpered. She slumped uselessly into the armchair she hadn’t risen from since her and my return to the Acquaine estate.
Arianne placed both hands on her skirted hips and stared at the plump woman for so long that she abandoned her long-suffering routine. But by then, Arianne wasn’t looking at her—not exactly. Her eyes were glazed, indicating that her mind had moved beyond the drama that our transformations teacher delivered wherever she went.
In this case, I didn’t entirely blame Madame Pimlish. We’d left Wizard Meedles in a precarious situation.
But neither did I blame Arianne when she simply turned to join the heated conversation the rest of the magicians were engaged in. They’d long before chosen to ignore Madame Pimlish in favor of solving some of our problems.
The pig-featured woman was too overwhelmed with her grief to take offense at Arianne’s uncharacteristic actions, and as Madame Pimlish sank farther into her armchair in sullen silence, I was able to focus on the conversation of those huddled in the opposite corner of the room.