Witched!

by Rebecca McRitchie

  ‘Thank you,’ said Cora, holding onto the hobgoblin’s hand, ‘for everything you have done to help us.’

  Belle smiled. She walked over to a bench and lifted up a cloth that rested over a dish. The dish was full with what looked like brightly coloured bread rolls. Belle handed Cora the dish and Cora took a round one with a large purple swirl running through it.

  ‘Grape,’ said Belle.

  Cora realised it had been a while since she had eaten something. Biting into the bread roll, it tasted exactly like she had bitten into a round, juicy grape. It was delicious.

  ‘You know, I’ve been alive for hundreds of years and I never thought I would meet another syphon,’ said Belle. ‘And now there are two of you running around.’ She shook her head.

  Hopefully more, Cora thought as she wondered where her parents could be.

  ‘You must do what you can to protect your kind,’ said Belle. ‘But, this other syphon . . .’

  Cora nodded. Kaede wasn’t the one that needed to be protected. After what happened in Tynth, after everything he had said about destroying the other syphons, even though he was her kind, he needed to be stopped. But how could Cora stop him if what he wanted . . . was her? And it wasn’t just Kaede who wanted her. There was also Archibald the warlock. And the council. And the syphon hunters. How was Cora going to escape them all? And she still needed to search for her parents. Suddenly she felt an impossible weight settle atop her shoulders. Where was she even going to begin?

  ‘Your mind is far away,’ said Belle. She chewed on a square bread roll with large red dots.

  Cora nodded. ‘Everything is much, much worse,’ she said, her eyes on the grape roll in her hands. Ever since she had accidentally summoned the Jinx in Urt, she had put a lot of people in harm’s way. The fairies. Belle. Dot. Guilt tugged at her from all sides. She wondered what would happen if she continued on her own? What if she went back to Urt? What if she left the magical world? Would that protect the people she cared about? Would that put an end to all of this?

  Belle seemed to read her mind. She put down the dotted roll. ‘There are two very annoying fairies flying around out there who believe in you,’ said the hobgoblin. ‘That means something.’

  Belle was right. If it hadn’t been for Tick and Tock, Cora didn’t know where she would be. She would probably be a Jinx’s breakfast, or a Havoc by now. Or worse. She wouldn’t know anything about her syphon family or the magical world. She couldn’t just leave the fairies. Not after everything that had happened.

  ‘Will Dot be okay?’ Cora asked. She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of Dot’s room. She wasn’t sure what more she could do.

  Belle sighed. ‘She is strong but she is also human. The cormoraith will help heal her wound . . . though, by itself, I’m afraid it might not be enough.’

  Cora let the hobgoblin’s words sink in. The guilt she felt curled up inside her. ‘What else can we do?’

  ‘I will need more ingredients,’ said Belle.

  Cora nodded.

  ‘You can go in the morning,’ said Belle. ‘She needs to rest tonight.’ The hobgoblin placed a hand on hers.

  There was a knock on Belle’s orange door.

  The hobgoblin paused.

  Heart in her chest, Cora stood up.

  ‘It’s just us,’ said Tock from the other side of the door.

  ‘We don’t want to get stuck in another hobgoblin trap,’ said Tick.

  Belle’s mouth lifted into a small smile. The hobgoblin walked over to her door and opened it, letting the fairies inside.

  ‘Hi Belle,’ said Tick.

  ‘Love what you’ve done with the place,’ said Tock.

  ‘Any sign of . . .’ began Cora.

  Tick and Tock shook their heads.

  Cora let out a relieved breath.

  Belle didn’t seem convinced. ‘I will charm the wood. Just to be sure,’ she said. The hobgoblin stepped through the opened door of her home and out into The Oak Wood.

  ‘How is your Dot?’ Tock asked, sitting down at the table next to Cora. He grabbed a green bread roll from the dish.

  ‘She is resting,’ said Cora. She hoped the night would be enough for Dot to heal. In the back of her mind, she knew they couldn’t stay in one place for long. Not with all the magical beings who were searching for them.

  Belle walked back inside and closed the door behind her. She held her hand up and muttered a handful of words. They were soft and melodic like a song. The orange door glowed for a minute and then returned to normal. The hobgoblin waved her hand above her and four hammocks appeared, stringing themselves up in the living room, expertly weaving around the logs and branches above them.

  ‘You can stay here the night,’ said Belle.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Tick.

  ‘Ew,’ said Tock, suddenly spitting out some of the bread roll from his mouth. ‘Spinach.’

  The three friends spent the night filling in Belle on everything that had happened since they had last seen her. The hunters, the council, Ogg, the Orders of Removal, Cora’s bracelet. Tynth. Kaede. As the fairies spoke, and sometimes acted out scenes from the past few days, Cora couldn’t tear her eyes away from the glowing garden room, and the room that lay beyond it. The room with Dot. She quietly willed her to get better, wishing she had syphoned some kind of healing magic that could’ve been of use.

  It wasn’t long until everyone was asleep in their hammocks and the living room was filled with hobgoblin and fairy snores. Cora lay awake, lost in her thoughts on what lay ahead. You must do what you can to protect your kind, Belle had said. They had searched for days for any sign of another syphon. And in the end, they’d found one. Kaede. He had been searching for her, too. Waiting for her. And the words the syphon had spoken to her hung precariously in her mind like one of Belle’s upside-down hanging pot plants. Not just the words about her. There was one word that screamed louder than the others. One word that meant her parents could still be out there.

  Brother.

  Chapter Four

  Cora stood on a grassy hill. Looking around with her eye, she squinted into the sunlight and recognised where she was. She was in Tynth. This place was once her home. Memories of her parents came back to her: a pair of red, pointed shoes; a yellow sundress; and the sound of laughter in the tall grass.

  Turning, Cora looked behind her and saw that the cottages and homes of the syphons weren’t dilapidated and empty anymore. Instead, they were freshly painted in soft yellows and reds. The windows and roofs were intact. And people came and went from them. One or two waved cheerily to her as they passed.

  Cora waved back. Then she heard a familiar shout from near one of the cottages. Following the noise, she saw Dot. Cora’s heart leapt. She watched with a smile as the old woman nimbly chased after Scratch. She wasn’t hurt anymore. Dot was back to her normal self.

  Scratch pounced back and forth, a pair of knitted socks in his mouth, playfully avoiding Dot’s reach.

  As she watched the pair, Cora relaxed. This was it. At last, she was home.

  ‘Hello,’ came a voice behind her.

  Cora turned to find a boy standing a few steps away. He was younger than her and had a few freckles on his cheeks. He wore a long blue coat and his hair was cut short . . . his silver hair. It sparkled in the morning sun like the grass at his feet.

  ‘Hello,’ Cora replied. There was something familiar about the boy but Cora couldn’t quite place it. Had she met him before?

  ‘Don’t you recognise me?’ asked the boy. He held his hands out and turned on the spot.

  Cora paused. The boy reminded her a little bit of Ogg, the half-troll she had met in Troll Town. But the more she looked, the more she was sure she hadn’t met him before.

  ‘Who are you?’ Cora asked.

  And then the boy smiled a smile that she recognised. At the same time, the bright morning sky above them darkened with heavy, grey clouds. Cora felt the first drops of rain on her skin and a strong, icy wind whipped throu
gh Tynth. And then suddenly, Cora knew. She knew the answer. His hair, his eyes; they were like Kaede’s. And she knew what the boy was going to say before he said it.

  ‘I’m your brother.’

  Cora woke to someone shaking her roughly. Instinctively, and still half-asleep, she grabbed onto her magic. Was it Kaede? Archibald? The council? Her brother? When she opened her eyes, the Jinx magic was in her hands but looking down from the hammock she was relieved to see that the person shaking her awake was Belle. Cora put her magic away and rubbed the sleep from her eye remembering where she was. Of course it is just Belle.

  ‘Good. You’re awake,’ said the hobgoblin. Belle’s face peered up at her, concern wrinkling her features. ‘Come with me.’

  Worried, Cora slid down from her hammock. Her stomach twisted into tiny nots. Her heart quickened. Dot. Around her in the darkness of the hobgoblin’s home, she could see that it was early. The sun had yet to rise, and Tick and Tock continued to sleep soundly in their hammocks.

  Cora hurriedly followed Belle through the glowing garden and into Dot’s room. From the moment she entered, Cora could see straight away why Belle was concerned. Dot didn’t look as good as she had yesterday. Cora could see that Dot’s eyes were clenched closed, her chest rose and sank heavily, and the rattled breathing that sounded like falling rocks had returned.

  Cora knelt down on the ground next to Dot. She looked at the old woman and reached for her hand.

  ‘Dot?’ she said.

  Dot stirred but her eyes remained closed.

  ‘The cormoraith is working,’ said Belle. The hobgoblin placed a damp cloth on Dot’s forehead. ‘But it needs help.’

  ‘Help?’ echoed Cora. ‘What do you mean?’

  Belle put down the cloth and pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket. She handed it to Cora. ‘This is a list of what I need.’

  Cora grabbed the folded paper but Belle held on tightly to the other end of it. She looked at Cora in the eye.

  ‘The items on this list are . . . dangerous,’ she said.

  Cora wasn’t sure what Belle meant by dangerous. Everything Cora had done since leaving Urt was dangerous. ‘Someone once told me I have to do what I can to protect my kind.’

  Nodding, Belle let go of the piece of paper and Cora placed it in her pocket.

  A flutter of wings broke the silence as Tick and Tock flew into the room.

  ‘What’s for break—’ began Tick.

  The fairies’ faces fell when they saw Dot. They darted over to Cora who was still kneeling by Dot’s bed.

  ‘But you used the cormoraith,’ said Tick looking at Belle.

  ‘That flower can bring magical beings back from death,’ added Tock.

  ‘Dot is human,’ said Cora.

  ‘To help the cormoraith, I have given Cora a list of ingredients,’ said Belle. The hobgoblin put some more orange paste on Dot’s forehead, chest and wrists.

  ‘What kind of ingredients?’ asked Tock.

  ‘Necessary ones,’ said Belle. ‘You must go and get what you can. I don’t have much cormoraith left.’

  Without saying a word, the fairies darted out of the room and in seconds they flew back, their own and Cora’s packs in their hands.

  ‘Ready when you are,’ said Tick.

  Scratch meowed from his spot on the bed by Dot’s feet. Then the black cat stood up and leapt to the floor. He rubbed against Cora’s leg and meowed some more. He understood that she was leaving. Cora gave him a scratch and hug goodbye.

  ‘The first item I need is in . . . Whimpering Bog,’ said Belle.

  ‘Whimpering Bog?’ repeated Tick, raising a hairy eyebrow.

  ‘But—’ said Tock, squinting suspiciously.

  ‘Go,’ said Belle, before the fairy could finish. ‘Time is against us.’

  Cora looked at Dot and paused. She remembered her dream and the image of her and Scratch playing in the Tynth sun. Suddenly, every part of Cora didn’t want to leave. She had only just found Dot and Scratch again.

  ‘It’s alright,’ said Belle. ‘I’ll look after her.’

  Scratch meowed once more and pounced back onto the bed beside Dot.

  ‘And him,’ added Belle.

  Cora nodded.

  Tick and Tock placed a hand on her shoulders. With a POP!, the three friends left Belle the hobgoblin, Dot and Scratch.

  Chapter Five

  Cora expected her boots to hit the hard ground with a thump, but instead, her boots landed with a wet and sticky squelch. Opening her eye, Cora could see that she stood in the middle of a dense, grey wetland. Tall, black grass and narrow, white trees with moss dangling from their branches stuck up from the bog around them. The sky was still dark in the early morning, but a thick, fog sat on top of the bog like a swirling blanket, giving the Whimpering Bog an eerie, grey glow.

  The clumpy bog water covered her boots up to her ankles. She lifted up one of her feet and it came up out of the bog with a squelch, covered in sloppy mud. She took a step and lifted up her other foot. It, too, rose out of the bog slowly as though her boot was trapped in a lake of gooseberry honey. One thing was for sure — she couldn’t move very quickly through the bog at all.

  ‘Whimpering Bog,’ said Tick as he fluttered next to her with his hands on his hips.

  ‘Otherwise known as Queasy Quagmire,’ said Tock.

  ‘Monster Marsh,’ said Tick.

  ‘And my favourite,’ added Tock. ‘Screaming Swamp.’

  Screaming Swamp? thought Cora. ‘Who calls it that?’ she asked.

  The fairies paused. ‘We do,’ they said together.

  Cora really hoped there wasn’t going to be any screaming. Looking around, she wasn’t exactly sure how far the bog stretched. The grey fog obscured most of the wetland and she couldn’t see much more than an arm’s length in front of her.

  Suddenly, she heard the snap of branches breaking nearby.

  In the air, Tick and Tock gasped before clinging to each other, their heads swivelling from left to right to see where the noise had come from.

  Cora paused and raised an eyebrow at the fairies. ‘What’s the matter with you two?’ she asked. She had never seen the fairies act so jumpy before, even when they were being chased by a Jinx.

  Tick and Tock quickly let go of each other.

  ‘Nothing,’ they said at the same time.

  Cora stared at the fairies, unconvinced. She remembered what Belle had said about the items on the list being dangerous. Reaching into her pocket, Cora pulled out the folded piece of paper Belle had given to her. Opening it up, she read aloud the first item on the list.

  ‘Hair of a werewolf,’ she read. Then Cora realised what she had said. ‘Wait . . . hair of a werewolf!?’

  Tick and Tock winced.

  ‘I was afraid it was going to be that,’ said Tick.

  ‘Better than toenails of a werewolf though,’ said Tock.

  Tick nodded in agreement.

  ‘Hair of a werewolf,’ repeated Cora. ‘How are we supposed to get werewolf hair?’

  ‘From a werewolf of course,’ said Tick.

  Cora glared at the fairy.

  ‘How are we supposed to get werewolf hair and still live?’ Cora corrected herself. She imagined herself trying to pluck strands of hair from a snarling, angry werewolf.

  ‘It might not be as difficult as we think,’ said Tock, stroking his chin.

  ‘They do shed a lot of hair.’

  ‘We just need to find where they have shed,’ said Tick looking around him.

  Cora peered into the foggy bog. It wasn’t going to be an easy task. There wasn’t much solid ground for hair to land on without getting lost in the watery muck of the bog, and the fog made seeing anything ahead of them near impossible. Cora called up the princess’s magic. The princess had given her avian magic to a man named Artemis who Cora had accidentally syphoned it from. The air swirled around her and Cora shaped it into a ball. She pushed it out in front of them and it dispersed the fog.

  �
��Let’s go this way,’ she decided, pointing to the cleared way ahead. It was most likely much the same as all the other ways, but they needed to start somewhere. With difficulty, Cora lifted her boots up and out of the bog and the fairies flew next to her, their heads nervously swivelling from left to right every now and then.

  Cora and the fairies searched the bog and the branches of the thin, white trees for any sign of something that looked like werewolf hair.

  ‘Exactly how many werewolves are in Whimpering Bog?’ Cora asked, peering at some moss on a branch.

  ‘Whimpering Bog is like The Hollow,’ said Tick. ‘But instead of being a wonderful place full of music and the home to many fairies . . . it is a not wonderful place with no music and is the home to many werewolves.’

  ‘So it is nothing like The Hollow,’ said Cora.

  ‘Correct,’ said Tock.

  ‘And full of many, many werewolves,’ Cora added.

  ‘Correct,’ said Tick.

  The fairies’ words weren’t reassuring Cora. In any case, if Dot needed hair from a werewolf in order to be well again, then that’s what they were going to get.

  ‘We should hurry,’ said Tock.

  Cora agreed. She eyed her surroundings and with her magic she pushed some more swirling air in front of them, waving away the bog fog ahead.

  As Cora squelched through the bog, her eye searching for any sign of werewolf hair, the corner of her left boot hit something hard. She pushed away some of the wisps of fog and looked down. By her feet, sticking out of the muddy clumps of bog, was a collection of bones. She swallowed.

  Another snapping sound came from their right.

  Tick and Tock swirled around in the foggy air, their heads turning in the direction the noise had come from. This time, Cora did the same.

  Quickly, she pushed her magic towards the sound. The ball of air flew into the fog, pushing it aside to reveal . . . more of the bog.

  Cora settled. She realised that they needed a distraction. Something to get their minds off a werewolf,

  or five, bursting through the bog fog at any moment. Once, in Urt, when Cora had fallen and scraped her knee, Dot had needed to clean the wound. She had told Cora a story about a flying kitten to distract her from the pain, and it had worked. Cora’s heart tugged at the memory. Then Cora realised that in the flurry of Dot being injured, there was something she hadn’t told Tick and Tock. The something that had been on her mind since leaving Tynth.