by Amelia Blake
“Huh. That does sound suspicious. But there could be a reasonable explanation for all of this. Also, just because her mother was a witch, doesn’t mean she knows anything about witchlights. Maybe she’s just shaken from the whole experience. I know I am.”
“Maybe,” Jessie says thoughtfully. “I mean, you did break the only means of communication she had with her aunt.”
“That’s not fair. You know it wasn’t my fault. And, anyway, there’s one place where I’m sure we can find her every day. Cheerleading practice.”
“Right.” Jessie grins. “How about I talk to her while you go to the library?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Not going to happen, Sullivan.”
“But don’t you miss books?” she taunts me. “You’ll be all alone in that big library with all those shelves full of books.”
“First of all, I won’t be all alone. Ms. Duncan will be there. And second of all, considering that I’m the one harboring a fugitive demon who reads my diary and eats all the food in my house—”
“He does what?”
“Don’t interrupt me. I think that taking all these things into consideration, you owe me at least one trip to the library.”
“Oh, all right,” Jessie relents. I don’t get why she is so afraid of Ms. Duncan, but now is not the time to use it as an excuse not to help out. We need to find a way to make a witchlight for Azzie as soon as possible, so that I can focus on figuring out a way to get all my books back without giving in to my parents’ crazy demands.
“A witchlight?” Ms. Duncan asks, staring at us. “And you need this for—”
“Our history project. Yes,” Jessie blurts out. She always speaks too fast and without thinking when she is nervous, which doesn’t happen a lot, but Ms. Duncan is a special case. I don’t know why she makes Jessie so nervous. I mean, she does look somewhat formidable with her eyebrows in a constant state of frowning. She also isn’t exactly tall, but the way she looks at you makes you feel like you are the smallest and most worthless creature in the world, so that might have something to do with it.
“And where did you two come across that term?” Ms. Duncan asks dubiously. I don’t think she’s buying our story about the history project. I hope she doesn’t think we are messing with her or something. No one messes with Ms. Duncan, or they find themselves dusting all the books in the enormous library every day after school forever. Summers too.
“Um, in some book we read,” I try to help out. We should’ve gotten our stories straight before we came here, but who knew the librarian would start questioning us.
“And what kind of book was that?” Ms. Duncan continues her interrogation.
“I don’t really remember,” I mumble. “It was a while back. Something about the founding of Mystic Hollow?” I need to practice my lines in front of a mirror, because saying them in the form of a question instead of a statement doesn’t add to my credibility.
“Does it really matter where we read it?” Jessie asks, starting to lose her patience, of which there wasn’t much to begin with. “Can’t you just do your magic and tell us if that word is mentioned in any of the books in the library?”
Ms. Duncan’s left eyebrow arches. “Do my magic?”
“Well, you know, search the database,” Jessie says like she knows more about the subject than the librarian herself.
Ms. Duncan’s left eyebrow twitches. It looks like it has more spirit than her right one which stays in place throughout the entire conversation. After trying to make us disappear with her glower—at least that’s what I figure she’s trying to do—and seeing that we, unfortunately, do not dissipate into thin air, Ms. Duncan adjusts her glasses, looks at the screen of her computer, and starts typing.
Jessie and I both give out audible sighs of relief. After a few minutes of typing, clicking, and scrolling Ms. Duncan proclaims, “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Jessie and I ask simultaneously, both sounding disappointed. I was hoping there would be at least some mention of a witchlight in one of the books. This is the largest library in Mystic Hollow after all.
“Nothing about a witchlight,” Ms. Duncan confirms. “At least not in the database.”
Jessie’s face and mine light up with hopefulness.
“But we have received a number of books relating to the history of Mystic Hollow this summer and they haven’t been scanned yet. Would you like to take a look at them?”
“Yes, that would be great,” I say, not able to keep a smile off my face. Did we finally catch a break? It’s not like we can know for sure that there will be something of value to us in those books, but at least there is hope, and we don’t really have many other options right now.
“Make yourselves comfortable over at that table”—she points at one of the tables—“while I fetch the books and scanners.”
“Scanners?” Jessie asks.
“Well, of course. You didn’t think I was going to let you check out books that haven’t been scanned yet? After you scan the books, and all the information is in the database, you can check the books for whatever it is you’re looking for.”
“Um, are you allowed to do that?” I ask tentatively. I don’t want to get on Ms. Duncan’s bad side—I mean, the library is my only source of books right now—but this just doesn’t seem quite right.
“I’m allowed to hold the books until they are scanned, and I’m so busy I don’t think I can get to them anytime soon. But you’re welcome to check in somewhere after New Year’s.” Really? Blackmail?
“Fine. We’ll do it,” I say grudgingly. We really need those books.
Ms. Duncan gets up from her desk and leaves to fetch the books. And scanners.
We spend the next three hours scanning several dozen books about the history of Mystic Hollow, including a few books that don’t have anything to do with it, but that Ms. Duncan sneaked in, probably thinking we are too stupid to notice. And apparently we are, because we have scanned most of the books she gave us but found nothing remotely interesting for us in them.
“It’s pointless,” I say when I finish scanning yet another book. The sound of the scanner will haunt me in my dreams. “I’m starting to think that this whole idea was stupid. Why would something so secret be in a library book?”
“It’s not like we have any other options,” Jessie points out. She actually looks like she’s having a good time. Go figure. “And besides, we never expected to find a spell here anyway, just something to point us in the right direction.”
“I know, but I feel like we’re wasting our time.” I stare at another unscanned book, wondering if I should start scanning it or just leave it be. We still have a few books to process, but with every book that doesn’t answer any of our questions, my enthusiasm dips lower. And I really need my enthusiasm to deal with all the things that are going haywire in my life.
“I think we should at least rule this place out. I mean, rule out all the books in here. And besides, weren’t you supposed to go talk to Ciara?” Jessie glances at a large clock on the wall.
“Oh, right,” I smack myself on the forehead. “How could I have forgotten about that? Are you coming with me?”
“I think someone should stay and finish up here. Besides, I think it will be best if you talk to her alone. If she sees me trying to talk to her again, she’ll probably teleport or something.”
“Yeah, right.” I laugh.
“No, I swear I’m not joking. She’s been literally disappearing on me.” Jessie starts gesticulating with a large book, the pages flapping as she moves her arms. “One moment she’s in class, sitting next to me. The next moment the bell rings, and she’s gone. I immediately go after her, but there’s no sign of her in the hallway.”
“Maybe she just entered another classroom?”
“I doubt it. I tried to catch her after one of her other classes. Same thing happened. I’m sure it’s some witchy mojo she’s working. I don’t know what she’s up to, but it’s really suspicious that she’s been disappe
aring on me like that.”
“Okay, let’s test your theory and see if she disappears on me the same way she does on you,” I say, picking up my school bag from the chair next to me.
“Why are you taking your books? Aren’t you coming back?” Jessie asks.
“Um, sure,” I cringe inwardly, but put the bag down. I was hoping I could go home after talking to Ciara, since I’m not looking forward to scanning the rest of the books.
“Just leave it here. I’ll give you a ride home when we’re done.”
I don’t know how to refuse this offer. I really need to get my driver’s license, if only to avoid situations where I can’t wiggle out of scanning library books. “Okay, then,” I say, and head in the direction of the girls’ changing room.
Chapter Twelve
When I enter the changing room, I’m relieved to see that Ciara is still there. There’s only one other girl with her, and, fortunately enough, it’s not Chloe.
“Hey,” I say to Ciara. “I really need to talk to you.” The other girl snickers as if she actually knows what I want to talk about.
“I don’t really have time right now,” Ciara says, zipping her bag. “Maybe we can talk later?” Always so polite, but I am pretty sure that later will never come.
“Actually, no, we need to talk right now.” I block her way and the other girl stands next to Ciara like a bodyguard. Really? “In private,” I add.
The other girl snickers again. “Like that’s going to happen.”
“It’s okay, Jen,” Ciara says. “See you tomorrow?”
Jen gives me the stink eye, but doesn’t say anything and leaves, even though she doesn’t miss an opportunity to bump into my shoulder on her way out. What’s her deal?
When the sound of Jen’s footsteps disappears in the hallway, Ciara says, “I have already told you everything I know, which is nothing when it comes to witchlights.”
“If that’s true, then why are you avoiding Jessie every time she tries to talk to you?” I ask.
“Because she just won’t leave me alone, and I need to focus on other things right now.” Ciara slings her bag over her shoulder, ready to leave. Not so fast.
“Like cheerleading?” I ask.
“We have a very important game tomorrow. Maybe you’ve heard something about it.” I might have, but that’s not the point.
“Game or no game, you have to help us figure out how to make a witchlight. I have an actual demon living in my bedroom, and it’s at least partially your fault.”
“My fault? I’m out of three demon tears, which, for your information, are extremely valuable, not to mention my Mirror of Edana is broken. It means that I won’t be able to get in touch with my aunt until she comes back to Mystic Hollow, which might not happen for a while. I think you’re the one to blame for all of this, Emmy, and you should fix your own mess.”
My jaw drops. Seriously? Did those words really come out of her mouth? If it wasn’t for Ciara, who invited herself to our sleepover and conducted her weird magic ritual, none of this would have happened.
“Now let me through. It’s going to rain soon and I don’t feel like getting wet and catching a cold before the game.”
“So you can predict the weather now?”
Ciara rolls her eyes. “I can watch a weather report, like any normal person.” She tries to walk past me, but I block her way. “Listen, Emmy, I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve here, but it won’t work. I already told you everything I know. There’s nothing else I can help you with, so why don’t you move aside or I’ll have to move you.”
My eyebrows shoot upwards. “Are you actually threatening me?”
“I’m not threatening anyone,” Ciara says, irritated. “But I’m also not getting caught up in whatever it is you’re doing. Creating a witchlight for a demon—” she huffs, as if the whole idea is ridiculous. Only why would she consider it ridiculous if she knows absolutely nothing about witchlights? She is lying through her teeth and I need to get the truth out of her. She also told Azzie that she doesn’t know any adult witches, but she does know at least one—her aunt—so if she lied about that, she could very well be lying about other things too. The only thing I don’t understand is why she is trying so hard to hide this information from us. She seemed so willing to talk about magic the other day, and now she is basically denying any kind of knowledge of anything supernatural.
“You know what I think?” I say, stepping forward. “I think that you’re lying. I think that you know exactly what a witchlight is and you probably know how to make one. The only thing I don’t understand is why you are so bent on keeping this information to yourself. Maybe I should just come over to your house and ask your grandmother about it? I mean, if you’re a witch, your aunt is a witch, your mother was a witch, what are the chances that your grandmother isn’t one? I’d say pretty slim. Maybe I should just ask her how to make a witchlight?”
Ciara’s face turns deathly white. “My grandmother doesn’t know anything about this. And if she did, there’s no way she would ever help you with what you’re asking. If she found out I’ve been using magic like this, I would be in serious trouble.”
“Really? And you don’t think I’m in serious trouble? What if those fire-breathing demons actually do come looking for Azzie? What do I do then? Oh, I know, I’ll send them to your house.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Just tell him to leave. It’s not like he can do anything to you without a witchlight. Demons can return to their dimension without any help from witches.”
“Well, apparently, he’s not interested in going back, so he’s stuck in my house, eating my food, sleeping in my room, and reading my email. Oh, and I’ve actually caught him stalking you on social media, so don’t put it past him to get in touch with you. Maybe he’ll just show up on your doorstep one day, with a bouquet of flowers and an engagement ring. I’m sure your grandmother will be very excited when he asks her for your hand in marriage.”
“Okay, Emmy, you’re being completely ridiculous. I don’t want you or any demons you conjured anywhere near me or my grandmother. And if you continue bothering me with this, you will regret it. After all, I’m the one who has experience with magic. You can’t even use a Mirror of Edana properly,” she scoffs.
My cheeks flame. This is getting ridiculous, but not in the way Ciara is talking about. It’s all her fault. If it wasn’t for her, Jessie and I would have spent a fun night watching The Undead Chronicles and eating popcorn. We most certainly wouldn’t have conjured up a constantly hungry teenage demon with an affinity for blonde models.
“Maybe I can’t use some stupid mirror, but I sure can use these.” I ball my hands into fists. “And you’re not leaving this place until you tell me how to make a witchlight or at least tell me where I can find a spell that tells me how to make one.”
“Oh, please,” Ciara rolls her eyes. “You think that’s going to stop me?” She smirks at my fists. I should have known that all that innocent princess act was just that, an act. I don’t know what bothers me more: that she turned out to be just as bad as every other popular girl in school or that she had tricked me into thinking that she wasn’t.
“You have one last chance to tell me how to make a witchlight,” I say, my hands still balled into fists. I’m bluffing, but Ciara doesn’t know that. “You don’t want that pretty face to be all bruised up at tomorrow’s game, do you?”
Her face goes even whiter than before and a few red splotches appear. “You wouldn’t,” she whispers.
“Oh, yes, I would.” I wouldn’t, really, but I stare at her intently as if trying to tell her with all my expression and body posture that yes, yes, I would.
The red splotches on Ciara’s face grow wider. There’s an especially ugly one in the middle of her left cheek which narrows down to her neck. “Last chance, Emmy. Let me through or you’ll regret this.” In addition to the red splotch, a vein is throbbing on her neck. Well, at least I know I’m getting somewhere. There is no way s
he would get this upset if she didn’t have something to hide.
“Move.” Ciara steps forward, her body just a few inches from mine, her lips pursed into a thin line, her eyes burning with rage. And before I can move or do anything else for that matter, Ciara lifts her hands, pointing them at my head, and then whispers something in that strange language she used during the spell. Before she is finished talking, my head explodes with pain, red shiny spots gather in full force before my eyes, and then everything goes dark.
“Emmy, wake up,” Chloe is shaking me again.
“No, I don’t want to go to school,” I whine, and Chloe giggles, which is not a characteristic sound for her. At least not when she is trying to wake me up in the morning. I try to bury my head in the pillow, but instead bump it into something hard. It hurts.
Chloe giggles again. “It’s a little late for that. Why don’t you open your eyes and look around?”
I pry my eyelids open, and the first thing I see is that Chloe isn’t Chloe at all. It’s Jessie. This definitely explains the giggling, but doesn’t explain a few other things, like why I’m lying on the floor or why my head hurts so badly. I try to sit up, but my head explodes with pain. “Ow,” I squeeze my temples, trying to stop my head from moving. Every tiny movement sends a jolt of pain through my skull. “Where am I?”
“In the girls’ changing room. You went to talk to Ciara, remember?” Jessie helps me sit up and rest my back against a locker.