by Lori Woods
“Val!” the old man calls out sternly. “None of the sucky vamp stuff in here.”
I pull my hand away before his lips can touch my fingers.
“It’s getting late, Val. Thanks for the chocolate. I better be getting back to my granny’s cottage.”
“Yes, since it’s your first day on this side, I’m sure it’s been hard adjusting to all the differences,” he says in his silky smooth voice that makes my heart palpitate. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Thanks,” I say as we head for the door.
“God bless you, Bo,” Val says to the old man, who is watching us.
“Yeah, he already did, Val. I’ve got hooves for feet and a goat’s tail sticking out the rear of my pants. A little more blessing and I would have been a card-carrying member of Little Bo Peep’s flock.”
“Sometimes age makes people grumpy,” Val says in defense of the old man as we step into the night air.
I’ve just met a talking goat, I think, but push that to the side. “Val, you weren’t by any chance in the woods near my granny’s cottage late this afternoon, were you?
“Why as a matter of fact, I was.” He lifts his hand. “As you can see, my skin is very sensitive to sunlight. Just a touch of it will cause a nasty burn. I like to walk in the deep woods in the forest out there. Its shade protects me from the sun, and it’s so pleasant to walk around during the day. As you can probably tell, I’m something of a night owl.”
“Again, thanks for the drink,” I say. He was in the woods near the cottage! Not good. Not good.
Val reaches to take my hand but his hand brushes against Broom Hilda instead; a shower of sparks fly from my broomstick.
“Oh, static electricity!” Val says as he jerks his hand back. “Nasty little shock. Your broomstick must be really powerful.”
“Yeah, that’s why I named her Broom Hilda,” I say.
“Until we meet again, Suzy,” Val says as he walks away.
Feeling that something is wrong with Broom Hilda, I’m looking at my broomstick. When I glance up as Val’s words trail off, I suddenly see nothing but an empty space where he was a moment ago.
“Broom Hilda, let’s get out of town,” I say.
Nothing happens.
I hum a little ‘Ride of the Valkyrie’.
Nothing. It is as though Broom Hilda is a toy whose batteries have suddenly run down.
The sparks when Val touched Broom Hilda! He drained her power. I wonder if it was an accident, or did the handsome vampire do it on purpose? Maybe I should wait inside the store. I turn and walk back to the door, only to see the old man flipping the sign in the door that says “open” to the “closed” side. He smiles at me and points at the store’s hours printed in bold black letters on the door: 7am to 12am.
“Rats!” I say, but smile as I’m saying it.
When all the lights, both inside and outside of the store, go off, I decide to walk across the street and stand under the streetlamp to wait until Broom Hilda recovers her charge.
As I walk across the street, I let the broomstick’s straw brush drag along the asphalt. Sparks! The straw brush is causing sparks to fly as I drag it against the road. Of course. It’s building up static electricity!
Instead of stopping under the lamp, I walk past it, dragging Broom Hilda along the pavement as I watch the shower of sparks. Come on, Hilda, get your charge back. Suddenly, I hear footsteps behind me. I glance back and see a figure dressed in black pass under the lamppost. I walk faster, causing the straw brush of the broomstick to spark brighter. Hilda, I need you!
“Val, is that you?” I call out.
The man walks toward me.
“Val, I don’t like jokes,” I say, getting more frightened by the second.
The figure become more menacing as it holds out a tin cup. “I just need a little blood.”
“Hilda, get your charge back,” I yell, desperately sweeping the tarmac back and forth as I continue walking.
“What? Is your broom out of gas?” a voice muffled by a hood asks.
Instead of answering, I walk faster.
“I assure you, Suzy, that you can’t outrun me, so just save me the effort and stop. I just want a little blood in my tin cup. Just a drop or two will do.”
I bolt down the sidewalk like a greyhound speeding out of the blocks at the racetrack. As I sprint, I continue to let Broom Hilda’s straw brush drag against the payment. I hear the sparks flying but I also hear the man’s footsteps. He’s gaining on me. I have a feeling he’s playing with me; that if he wants to, he can catch me in an instant.
In fact, even as I think that, I feel his strong, hot breath on the back of my neck. I glance over my shoulder and see a hand reaching for me. “Hilda!” I scream as fingers brush against my shoulder.
Suddenly, I feel my broomstick come to life. Hilda jerks me to the right, almost pulling my feet off the ground. The man runs toward me as I hop on Broom Hilda and wish her to fly.
Zip! I’m airborne!
“I’ll get you yet!” the man screams.
“Suzy, be careful,” the tiny little voice calls out from the ground. “He’s evil.”
The voice again? Where is it coming from? Who is it?
The questions swirl around in my head but there’s no way I’m turning Broom Hilda around as she picks up speed until I have to hold on for dear life. A few moments later, I see the lights of the cottage as we swoop down through the trees.
There’s no place like home! I think as I grab Broom Hilda and rush inside.
“In the corner for you, Hilda,” I say, placing the broomstick against the wall. “Snowball, is there room under the bed for me?” I call out as I enter the bedroom.
9
“Snowball, get on the back of Broom Hilda or I’m leaving you home,” I say as she sits in front of the door, glaring at me. “There are werewolves and vampires running around in the woods,” I remind her.
Snowball hisses and then runs and jumps onto Hilda’s straw brush, digging her claws in as she does. “Take it easy, Hilda. We have a baby aboard,” I call out.
Snowballs hisses a response, and then we are airborne.
I glance back, expecting a terrified expression on Snowball’s face but am shocked to see her tongue sticking out.
She’s laughing. She’s having fun!
So am I as we fly low over the forest. Nightshade appears on the horizon too soon since both Snowball and I are both enjoying the ride.
“No! Ride more! Ride more!”
“Who said that?” I shout into the wind. I turn and glance at Snowball. Did my cat just talk? No! No! Can’t be. I’m just imagining things. I’m stressed. Yes, it’s just stress, I think as I see the library and go in for a landing on the sidewalk leading to the entrance. It’s a running landing; not my best effort by any means, but at least Snowball doesn’t get jarred off. The black cat slides off as Broom Hilda’s brush drops to the sidewalk and she becomes just another broomstick.
“I hate witches,” I hear a voice mumbling. I glance to my left and see Sprout planting caster bean seeds in a shallow trench in the lawn near the building.
“You do realize caster beans are poisonous?” I say.
He holds out a hand filled with beans. “Want one?” he asks.
His hand is covered with sores. As I pull back and hurry past the horrid man, I hear a scratchy voice coming from behind me. “You stink!” the voice says. I glance back at Snowball, who is hot on my heels.
“I hate witches’ black cats, too,” Sprout says as he drops beans into the ground and covers them up.
I don’t know whether to be happy that Snowball can talk or be scared out of my wits. I decide just to ignore it for the moment, as it could still be only my imagination.
“Wow, you look like you just rode in on your broomstick.” Alford’s deep voice greets me. “And you brought Hairball with you,” he says, his voice becoming disapproving.
“Gas costs money!” I snap back, irritated because of my lack of sleep.
&nb
sp; “You mean you did ride the broomstick?” Alford says, jumping up and down like a little kid.
“Her name is Broom Hilda!”
“Can I look at it? I know a lot about broomsticks, you know.”
“What? You read a book on broomsticks?”
Alford’s happy face suddenly becomes pouty. “That was uncalled for.”
“Sorry, I’m having a bad hair day.”
Alford glances at my frizzled hair. “Yeah, that’s obvious.”
“Here,” I hold Broom Hilda out for inspection.
“Rachel taught me all about broomsticks. She was nice to me!” he says accusingly as he approaches Broom Hilda. He leans forward and inspects the handle. “Oh my God! It’s a Salem broomstick.” He pulls back. “You know you have to be chosen by a Salem broomstick.”
“Don’t be silly. I bought it at a flea market.”
Alford shakes his head. “No, she made you buy her. She must have been waiting years and years for you to come along.”
“You are joking, right?” I say as I try to remember the day I bought Broom Hilda. But I can’t; nor can I remember where I bought the broomstick.
“Wow, and I thought you were just another witch?” Alford says, clearly now in awe of me.
“Enough of this silly broomstick talk, Alford. I have decided that I want to get out of Nightshade as soon as possible!”
“Why? What happened?”
I quickly tell him about meeting the vet on the way to the cottage, about the tree and the man in black attacking me, and everything else.
“Any one of them could be Night Shadow,” I say. “Especially Val. Is he really a vampire?”
“Yeah, and I hate bloodsuckers. They are so smooth. Until they get your blood. Then they won’t give you the time of the day. But Val is different. He’s one of the few good ones. He’s the pastor at Nightshade’s Protestant church. He helps the needy in town. Okay, for a few drops of blood, but everyone’s got blood, even if they don’t have money.”
“So I can eliminate him as Night Shadow?” I ask, hoping for a yes because, strangely enough, I like him.
“No,” Alford says, shaking his head. He could just be putting on an act.”
“You’re not helpful, Alford. I need to eliminate suspects.”
“Trust any of them at your own risk,” the dwarf says with a shrug. “What’s that silvery powder on your shoulder?”
“I have no idea. Pixie dust for all I know,” I say. Suddenly it dawns on me. That’s where the attacker/creepy man touched me last night. “Eek!” I shout as I brush the powder off.
“What did you do that for?”
“Why?”
“Sheriff Dudley could have analyzed it, and maybe we could have gotten a lead about whose body Night Shadow has taken over.”
“Wow, I didn’t realize that Nightshade was high tech. You mean send it to a crime lab?”
“No, silly. Sniff it. He’s got the best nose in Nightshade.”
The thought of the floppy-eared sheriff sniffing my arm makes me shudder.
“Okay, let’s forget about evil Night Shadow for the moment. Where are the spell books I need? Those that might contain the exit spell?”
Instead of answering, the dwarf waddles away and I am left standing there, holding my broomstick. Quickly, I follow him. I note that Snowball is keeping close to Broom Hilda and me as I enter the tall canyons of books.
Alford stops at a section of books covered with spider webs and glances down at Snowball who has her back arched. “What? Scared of spiders, Hairball?”
“Snowball, you midget!” Snowball astonishes me by calling out in her new scratchy voice. “Can’t read or remember anything, can you!”
I just stare at Snowball as though she has suddenly turned into a Martian.
“God, Hairballs talks!” Alford declares. He glances at me. “You left out the fact that it talks! You don’t tell me that your broomstick is a Salem broom and you conveniently leave out that Hairball is a familiar.”
“What are you talking about? She’s just a plain old black cat!” I say shrilly.
“Maybe on the other side of the cemetery, but on this side she is a familiar! Right, Hairball?” the dwarf says, glancing down at Snowball.
“You call me that again, midget, and I’ll start leaving presents in your oversized shoes!” Snowball announces.
“Stop!” I shout. “You two are acting like children! You’re giving me a giant headache.”
“He started it,” Snowball says and hisses at Alford.
God, I really am losing my mind. I’m standing here listening to my cat argue with a dwarf. I feel like pinching myself, but from past experience I know it will just hurt and not change anything.
“Alford, please call her by her correct name,” I say, looking down at the upturned dwarf’s face. “And as far as you, Snowball, please don’t refer to Alford as a midget in the future. And under no circumstances deposit any sort of surprises in his…” I almost say excessively large shoes. “…shoes,” I say. “Now if you two are finished bickering like little kids, I’ll have Alford show me where to start my search.”
“There,” he says, pointing at the floor-to-ceiling shelf of tattered books, all leather-bound and covered in spider webs.
“Alford, I thought it was your job to keep the books dusted?” I’m horrified at the spider webs and layers of dust covering the books.
“And release a spell that suddenly turns me into a frog! You are joking, right? I never touch one of the spells books. The rumor is that Sprout touched one when he was the assistant librarian. He was tall, dark, and handsome back then.” He pauses. “But look at him now.”
“He was once the assistant librarian?” I ask, appalled at the idea of the warthog of a man roaming the stacks of books.
“Yeah, during Granny Maycomber’s time.”
“Let’s forget Sprout for the time being. Just tell me how to begin my search?”
“You pull a book out, open it, and thumb through it,” Alford says as though he’s talking to a child.
“Alright, alright, I get you,” I say, shaking my head.
“While you get down and dirty with those dusty old volumes, I’ll go and make a pot of tea,” Alford offers.
“God, I need something stronger than tea. Do you have coffee?”
“Does a cat poop in a litter box?” Alford asks, raising his eyebrows at Snowball.
“How about a big shot of Irish whiskey in my coffee?”
“Now you’re talking, Suzy. I love Irish coffee.”
“Yeah, I can tell by the whiskey bottle in your back pocket,” Snowballs says.
Wow, I’m finding it hard to wrap my mind around the fact that Snowball is not just the run-of-the-mill black cat; that she a witch’s familiar.
“Snowball, apologize to Alford this moment or it’s back in the cat carrier for the rest of the day,” I say sternly, wanting to get control of the situation if possible.
Snowball arches her back than lowers it. “Sorry, Alfie.”
“Alfie,” the dwarf repeats the name. “Oh, Snowball, I like it. Alfie. I did always hate the name Alford,” he says. Then with a smile, he glances up at me. “Two cups of Irish coffee coming right up.”
“Two?” I ask.
“Well, I can’t let you drink alone, now can I,” the dwarf says as he waddles off. He stops after a few steps. “And I’ll see if I can find some catnip,” he adds and winks at Snowball.
The minute he is out of hearing, Snowball begins humming bars from Randy Newman’s song, ‘Short People’.
“I am not amused, Snowball. The cat carrier is sitting on top of the service desk waiting for you?” I threaten. “Now stop this nonsense so I can start to work,” I say, glancing at the masses of volumes I might have to wade through before finding the correct spell. “I could use that cup of Irish coffee about now,” I say as I pull the first book off the shelf and blow a cloud of dust at Snowball, who sneezes and hurries away.
“Now to
get down to work at last,” I mumble, opening the book. “What!” I exclaim. I am expecting words in English. What I get is runic magical symbols, which look no different to me than hen pecks and chicken scratches. They are totally meaningless to me.
“Why does everything have to be so difficult?” I shout.
Neither Snowball nor Alford comes running to ask me what’s wrong as I sit down on the floor with the big leather-bound book in my lap. I am near tears. I suddenly realize how the dwarf must feel being unable to read.
I watch a tear drop from my chin to the old parchment that the runes are written on and suddenly the symbols are dancing around on the page like little stickmen. When they settle down, I suddenly find I can read the runes.
Just when I think nothing in this crazy town can surprise me, something like this happens, I think as I read the heading of the first spell. “Clean your house with a single twitch of your nose,” I read the heading out loud. Please, you have got to me kidding me! Twitch of the nose! I quickly try twitching my nose and find it will not twitch. Not to the left and not to the right.
I close the book and glance at the cover. Spells for Nose Twitchers!
“Wrong book,” I mumble and grab the next one. As I look at the cover, the runes rearrange themselves until they make sense to me. Spells Using a Willow Branch. I shake my head, but instead of putting it back on the shelf, I start a stack of those that may be of use in the future.
The next book title is Word Spells.
“Okay, now I’m cooking,” I say when I open the book. As I glance at the first spell, I hear a noise above me. I tear my eyes away from the book and look up just in time to see the monstrous bookcase tilting over. I have only a second to cover my head with the book I am holding and double up in a ball as books like missiles rain down around and on top of me. I suddenly feel as though someone is over me, using a jackhammer on my head. Everything goes dark.
“Are you dead? Are you dead?” I hear a voice calling out to me as someone is pulling books off the top of me.
“Not yet,” I manage to reply weakly as the last of the books is removed and I’m looking up at the faces of Alford and Snowball.
“See, I told you she wasn’t dead, Alfie?” Snowball says before leaning down and licking me on the forehead. “A good cleaning will make you feel better,” she adds in her unique scratchy voice.