Tiga wasn’t so sure. She began climbing the grey hair.
‘OUCH! BE GENTLE!’ the woman cried.
‘Sorry!’ Tiga called up to her.
‘You know, Tiga, we’re going to be so far ahead of Felicity Bat,’ said Peggy.
Tiga looked down to smile at her, and that’s when she saw it.
Two little figures scuttled past the tower.
‘It’s Milly and Molly!’ Tiga yelled. ‘Climb faster, Peggy!’
But it was too late. The twins had spotted them and were pulling at the witch’s hair.
‘I SAID BE GENTLE!’ the witch cried. ‘GENTLE!’
Milly and Molly cackled and tugged harder.
‘Ugh, this is so not what I want to be doing right now, videoing this silly battle. Ugh!’ the Sulky Sister fairies groaned as Molly scrambled up the hair.
Tiga swung the hair back and forth, trying desperately to knock Molly off.
Molly reached up and grabbed hold of Peggy’s shoe. Peggy was frantically trying to wiggle free.
‘OUCH! GET OFF MY SILKY GREY HAIR! OUCH! I’M NOT A SWING!’ the witch yelled.
‘Sorry!’ Tiga said as she stopped swinging on the hair. There was a crunch and the hair hung limply below her. She froze. ‘Peggy?’ She was afraid to look down.
There was nothing but silence and a little bit of huffing from the old witch in the tower. ‘I don’t have all day,’ she said, even though she definitely did.
‘Oh, Molly, I’m sorry! Did I get your nose?’ Tiga heard below her. ‘I really didn’t mean to …’
‘PEGGY!’ Tiga cried.
When she looked down, she could see Peggy hanging on by no more than three fingers.
Molly was standing on the ground looking furious. In one hand she was clutching her nose, and in the other was a smashed shrivelled head. Black smoke was billowing up her legs.
‘Ugh, one out! Knew we didn’t have winners,’ one of the Sulky Sisters groaned. ‘UGH, RUBBISH.’
Molly disappeared with a pop.
‘Ah, the pop,’ said Fran, rocking on her heels in the air. ‘Did I tell you adding the pop was my idea?’
Tiga didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on Milly. What was she going to do? Get angry? Try to get revenge on Tiga and Peggy for knocking her sister’s shrivelled head off ?
She was going to do none of those things.
‘I’m not doing Witch Wars without Molly,’ she said, throwing her shrivelled head to the ground and jumping on it. Black smoke started to billow up her legs.
‘Ugh, she gave up. Ugh, quitters,’ the Sulky Sister fairies moaned.
MILLY AND MOLLY ARE OUT!
As things begin to get hairy in the Witch Wars competition, Milly and Molly are the latest to have their shrivelled heads crushed. Our reporter met them at their Ritzy City home to talk about what it’s like to be out of the competition.
Molly: Well, at least mine was crushed by Peggy. Milly squashed hers herself.
Reporter: I haven’t asked a question yet …
Milly: Why not?
Reporter: Well, I was going to –
Molly: Are you good at interviewing people?
Reporter: Oh yes, very good.
Milly: What do you like most about interviewing people?
Reporter: Well, lots of things really! It all started when I was a child …
NOTE FROM THE RITZY CITY POST EDITOR: WE ARE NOT GOING TO PRINT THE REST OF THIS INTERVIEW BECAUSE IT’S JUST MILLY AND MOLLY INTERVIEWING OUR REPORTER, WHICH IS THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT WAS MEANT TO HAPPEN.
And so, a final word from Milly and Molly’s fairies, the Sulky Sisters.
The Sulky Sisters: Ugh, being interviewed is so boring. Ugh, rubbish.
Reporter: Thank you.
‘We’re going to win!’ Peggy yelled back to Tiga as the pair of them clattered down the spiral staircase in the bald witch’s tower. On either side sat messy shelves crammed with dolls and books and shoes. There was a kitchen on the third floor – it was all black, apart from the cupboard handles, which were bright white. And the sitting room on the second floor was all different shades of grey with old spotty cushions and peeling wallpaper.
‘SHORTCUT!’ Peggy cried, jumping off the last step and pointing at the hole in the floor.
Tiga spotted that the handle on the inside of the door had fallen off.
Peggy saw her looking at it. ‘Maybe that’s why we couldn’t get in.’
‘Or maybe someone tried to break in when we were in Brollywood. Was the handle broken on the other side of the door when we got back from Brollywood?’ Tiga asked.
Peggy shrugged. ‘Does it matter? Felicity Bat is asleep in Linden House. Fluffanora, Milly and Molly are out, Aggie Hoof is probably complaining to someone about her fairy not working properly and, even if Lizzie Beast or Patty Pigeon tried to break in, that probably means they haven’t figured out how to get to the shortcut yet. We’re winning, Tiga! We’re winning. And, best of all, we’re beating Felicity Bat!’
But as they fell through the shortcut Tiga couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
‘I know where we are!’ said Peggy. ‘This is Desperate Dolls, the oldest doll shop in all of Sinkville. They only sell second-hand dolls with missing eyes, burnt hair or no limbs …’
It was the creepiest shop Tiga had ever seen and it was filled with old broken dolls.
‘But where in Sinkville are we?’ Tiga asked, staring out of the grubby window and taking it all in. ‘This reminds me a lot of the neighbourhood where I live with Miss Heks.’
It was old, crumbling and peppered with houses that looked as if they had died. There was not a single witch on the street; only the occasional flicker of light through a holey curtain suggested people lived there.
‘We’re in the Docks – my part of town!’ Peggy said. ‘Look, that’s where all the mouldy jam from Ritzy City goes to be made into cat food!’
Fran was flying around the room, her nostrils flared like a worried horse. Tiga got the impression it wasn’t Fran’s kind of place.
‘ALL THIS PLACE NEEDS IS SOME GLITTERY DUST! THAT WILL MAKE IT BETTER!’ she roared.
Peggy held up a hand to protest and Fran smacked right into it and fell to the ground.
‘I’m fine,’ she squeaked.
‘It’s … nice,’ Tiga lied.
‘Thanks!’ Peggy said. ‘Most people think it’s horrible, but you can find good things about it, if you try really, really, really hard.’
‘You’re a good thing about it,’ Tiga said.
Peggy did a little bow and then lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Old Miss Flint over there, who owns this place, isn’t a good thing about it …’
Peggy was right. Old Miss Flint, owner of Desperate Dolls, wasn’t nice at all.
‘Excuse me,’ Tiga said.
‘I don’t speak to witches from that vile place above the pipes – they’re almost as bad as them lot from Ritzy City,’ Miss Flint hissed, looking at Peggy but pointing at Tiga. ‘I got no time for them. Worst thing I ever heard, letting above-the-pipes witches into Witch Wars. Shouldn’t be allowed, that’s what I say.’
‘I think it’s fair,’ Tiga said, standing tall.
Miss Flint moved closer to her, her long, crooked nose wobbling.
‘Miss Flint,’ Peggy said, stepping between them. ‘We’re here on a mission. We’re looking for the next Witch Wars clue, and the shortcut at the Towers led us here.’
‘Sorry, can’t help you,’ Miss Flint said, resuming her position behind a huge desk. ‘No clues in here.’ She stuck a massive plastic foot on to a tiny doll. Tiga couldn’t be sure, but she was almost positive she saw the doll frown.
Fran sat on the desk, eyeing the doll suspiciously.
‘Good as new,’ Miss Flint said, standing the doll up. It had one tiny foot and one huge one, so it just wobbled and fell over.
Without taking her eyes off Miss Flint, Tiga slowly stepped backwards and made her way over to the she
lves on the back wall. There were hundreds of headless, limbless and burnt dolls crammed into every spare space. Tiga was almost positive she heard whispering as she passed the other shelves. She stopped and shook her head.
Don’t be silly, Tiga, she thought. They’re just dolls.
‘So you weren’t given a clue to give to the Witch Wars witches?’ Tiga heard Peggy ask Miss Flint.
‘Nope,’ said Miss Flint, just as Tiga spotted something. On one of the shelves up high was a small doll with one eye missing and matted hair. But that’s not all Tiga could see. There was some swirly writing scrawled on the bottom of its bare feet.
Witch Wars. Witch Wars. Witch Wars. Witch Wars. Witch Wars it read, which convinced Tiga it definitely had something to do with Witch Wars.
Slowly, she lifted the doll off the shelf. The other eye fell out, and as she bent down to pick it up a chorus of whispers echoed throughout the shop. Whispers that were coming from the dolls.
‘Rusted and old by the barnacles and stone,
There sits an old woman and a younger wee crone.
One rocks in her chair; one brushes her hair.
It’s been three thousand years they’ve been sitting in there.’
‘PEHHHHGGGGGGGGY!’ Tiga cried, racing to the front of the shop.
‘Oh frogs,’ Miss Flint grumbled.
‘Pegs, did you hear that?’
Peggy looked confused.
‘The whispering, Peggy!’
Peggy looked around the room. ‘The whispering?’
Tiga turned to Miss Flint. ‘They whispered the clue, didn’t they?’
But Miss Flint just whistled as she stuck some fingers on to another doll.
‘The dolls?’ Peggy asked.
‘I heard them!’ said Fran, but no one was listening.
‘Yes!’ Tiga cried. And that’s when she had the crushing realisation she’d completely forgotten all the words. ‘Um, something about barnacles? Two women?’
Peggy stared at her blankly.
‘Oh, something about three thousand years?’
Peggy took out her notebook and wrote down the snippets of clues. She bit the end of her pen. ‘This could be anything.’
Tiga took out her map. ‘Barnacles,’ she said. ‘They will be in or near water.’ She studied the map and finally rested a finger on the murky water by the Docks. ‘All the other water bits on the map are smooth or ponds, but this bit near the Docks is all rocky. Perfect for barnacles!’
Peggy was still biting her pen.
‘Peggy?’ Tiga said.
Peggy mumbled and continued to stare at the clues. Then she leapt in the air. ‘THE COVE WOMEN!’ she roared, grabbing Tiga’s arm and dragging her out of the shop. ‘It must mean the Cove women!’
Peggy stood on the edge of the dock, her dress billowing in the wind, which Tiga thought made her look like a little witch-pirate.
News had spread that there were Witch Wars witches at the Docks, and so everyone had thrown back their holey curtains, clambered out of their windows and assembled themselves in prime viewing position behind Tiga and Peggy. The hiss of excited whispers was putting Tiga off, but Peggy was focused on the Coves.
‘So, that’s them,’ she said, pointing across the water to some dark, crumbling coves that stood on the other side looking cold and mean and … cove-ish.
‘There’s a story they tell here at the Docks,’ said Peggy. ‘Legend has it two old and incredibly evil witches live in the Coves. The oldest witches in all of Sinkville. No one alive has ever seen them and any witch who has travelled into their dark and dangerous cove has never returned.’
‘WHAT?’ Tiga cried. ‘Let’s not go into the dark and dangerous Coves, then.’
Peggy held up The Not Nearly Complete History of Sinkville book. Under the heading Dock Legends was a drawing of two women. One was sitting in a rocking chair and one was brushing her hair.
Tiga knew the dolls had whispered something about one of the witches brushing her hair and one being in a chair, but she didn’t want to tell Peggy.
‘Didn’t they say something about a rocking chair and brushing –’ Fran began. Tiga whipped her hat off and covered the fairy with it.
‘This sounds like the clue,’ Peggy said, and her eyes followed Tiga’s hat as it shuffled across the ground.
‘Ignore that,’ said Tiga.
Peggy pointed at the Coves. ‘We have to go.’
‘Not the creepy Coves, please …’
Peggy smiled. ‘Come on, Tiga. It might be fun.’
‘Well, how would we even get there? Where are the boats?’ She looked around the docks. There were none to be seen.
‘Boats?’ Peggy said. ‘Oh, right, boats! There don’t seem to be any left. We’ll have to swim.’
‘We can’t swim, Peggy,’ Tiga said, grabbing her arm. ‘It’s too far. And my dress – it’s from Brew’s.’
Peggy stared at her. Tiga sensed it was a FOR FROGSTICKS, ARE YOU BEING SERIOUS? stare, but that didn’t stop her.
‘The lace, Peggy. It might … snag … on a rock or … a fish might nibble it …’
Peggy raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, sorry, Aggie Hoof, I didn’t realise that dress was so important to you.’
Tiga realised she was going to have to do it. ‘Oh, OK, you’re right!’ she said, and she plunged into the murky water.
‘Did you say boat?’ someone croaked.
An old witch appeared beside Peggy with a little rowing boat.
‘Oh, Tiga! Look at that! There are some boats around here! My mistake! That’s lucky because, now that I actually look at the Coves, it’s much too far to swim. Yes, thank you old croaky witch lady, we will take that boat …’
Peggy was rowing enthusiastically, like an excited pirate on fast-forward. Tiga was wringing the water out of her dress and glaring at her, and Fran was in a huff on the handle of the oar.
‘This is terrifying!’ Peggy said brightly.
Fran shook her head at Tiga. ‘Pfft. Hiding me under a hat. It’s almost as bad as swatting!’
Tiga turned round slowly in her seat. The Coves were looming over them now and in the distance she could just make out two small lights. They were coming from two little windows, which belonged to two long, thin turrets that sat at either end of a rambling old house. All the other windows were dark, and only a small trail of smoke snaked up from the chimney, fading into the darkness that enveloped the place.
The boat crunched into the shimmering black rocks that lined the cove.
Peggy leapt out. ‘This is so terrifying!’
‘This is so terrifying, this is so terrifying, this is so terrifying, this is so terrifying …’ echoed the Coves.
‘Echo!’ Peggy yelled.
‘Echo, echo, echo, echo, echo …’ went the echo.
‘Hello, echo!’ Peggy squealed, clearly enjoying herself.
Tiga had read enough books to know that this was the bit when instead of saying ‘Hello, echo’ back, the echo would say something creepy like, ‘Hello, Peggy … Hello, Peggy … Hello, Peggy.’
But it didn’t. Instead the door to the house swung open and an old witch with frazzled grey hair poked her head out.
‘No one called Echo lives here. Go away!’
Peggy and Tiga jumped. Fran dived on to the rim of Tiga’s hat and curled it over herself to hide.
‘W-w-we’re l-l-looking for –’ Peggy stuttered.
‘The Cove witches,’ Tiga said, taking off her hat and shaking Fran off it.
The witch raised an eyebrow. ‘Eh?’
‘We’re looking … for … the Cove witches,’ Tiga said again, more shakily.
The witch stepped out from behind the door. She was wearing a beautifully structured black gown covered in huge silk roses. ‘You are both witches, correct?’
Tiga and Peggy nodded.
‘And you are standing in the Coves, correct?’
Tiga and Peggy nodded.
‘So perhaps you are the Cove witches,’ the witch said.
Tiga and Peggy looked at each other.
‘But we just got here!’ Peggy cried. ‘And we’ve never been here before, so we can’t be, because people have been talking about the cove witches for centuries!’
The witch smiled a warm smile. Well, as warm a smile as you can get when you have no teeth. ‘Clever girl,’ she said.
‘I’m not,’ Peggy said matter-of-factly. ‘I’m known for not being clever.’
‘Who says?’ the witch asked.
‘Everyone,’ said Peggy glumly.
‘Well, I do not know Everyone. But, whoever she is, she is very wrong.’
Peggy smiled. Tiga thought that was lovely of the witch and she seemed very nice, but she was a witch who was standing in a cove that no one had ever returned from, so …
Just then another head popped out from behind the door. She was a much younger-looking witch. She had sleek black hair twisted into a pretty bun and was wearing huge sunglasses, even though it was very dark.
‘Visitors!’ she squealed, leaping out from behind the door. She had a Brew’s dress, Tiga was sure of it – a simple black silk design that fell just below her knees.
‘Oh, we do enjoy visitors!’ she said, rubbing her arms. ‘It’s cold out here tonight. I’m Bettie and this is Lily. Do come in out of the cold.’
‘Yes,’ said Lily. ‘Do … come in … out of the cold.’
Tiga looked at Peggy. Peggy looked at the witches and shrugged her shoulders. Much to Tiga’s horror, she started walking towards the house!
Fran rolled her eyes. ‘Walking disaster that one.’
‘Um, Pegs …’ said Tiga.
But it was too late. Peggy was already inside the door.
Behind the door of the house in the cove lay a long, dark corridor lined with old paintings of even older-looking cakes. Tiga also spotted one of a fat cat juggling.
At the end of the corridor was a large door, its edges glowing from the light behind it.
‘Isn’t this fun?’ Bettie said, skipping along arm-in-arm with Peggy. Tiga was walking nervously behind, next to a slow and shuffling Lily. She held on to her hat.
Witch Wars Page 7