The Ondine Collection

by Ebony McKenna

  Ondine gulped and said, “But that’s horrible!” The word ‘oozing’ reminded Ondine of the gelatinous black shape they’d seen coming out of Mrs. Howser. Could she too have something similar to Mrs Howser’s shadow?

  “Is there any more pasta salad?” Melody eyed the buffet.

  “Mel, you need a break from Mrs. Howser.”

  “But she is helping me get better at magic.”

  “Yes but, look at you. You’re fading away to nothing. Come and stay with us and rest up.” Her offer was two-fold. Chef’s food would return Melody to health and the break would get her away from Mrs. Howser and her oozy black shadow.

  Melody sighed. “That’s a really sweet offer, but I can’t.”

  Hamish returned with a plate of Singapore noodles. “Get some meat on ye bones. Ye turn sideways and ye disappear!”

  The noodles looked delicious. Ondine’s tummy rumbled, but she wasn’t as ravenous as someone burning their energy with magic all day. “Why don’t you ask your parents if you can –”

  “ – It’s very kind of you, but no,” Melody said.

  ​“Why not?” Ondine fidgeted with worry. Had Melody’s parents seen how ill she looked? She didn’t need magic lessons; she needed to get to a fat farm. [237]

  “She must know you’re talking to me,” Melody said while she shovelled in more food. A chunk of noodle flew out and hit Ondine on the cheek. Melody had that panicked look about her, as if she were in trouble. “She knows everything.”

  Ondine’s words brimmed with sarcasm. “Kind of like, she’s psychic then?”

  Deadpan from Melody. “There is that.”

  Ondine stood up and made sure Hamish stayed with her friend while she headed to the buffet. Witches, pre-witches, seers and pre-seers crowded around the tables, piling their plates high, then getting sidetracked with talking to people and standing about, blocking the food Ondine wanted. [238]

  “Excuse me,” she said. “Sorry.” She budged the person in front of her. “Can I get to the beetroot salad please?”

  The chatty coven moved a few centimetres over, allowing Ondine access. So much to choose from. Sandwich points, pickled squid, pasta salads, slices of rare beef with horseradish cream, stir-fries, fruit and cheeses. At the allergy table they had sandwich fillings on rice cakes, leafy salads, fruit and more fruit and steamed vegetables with sweet chilli dressing. The vegetarian and vegan tables looked so colourful Ondine’s mouth began watering afresh.

  “Bingo!” someone said.

  “Eggplant stack!” another said, at which point they burst into giggles. Ondine didn’t get it. [239]

  Armed with a good spread of lunch, she made her way back to Hamish, where Melody was mopping the last smear of dressing from her plate with a wedge of bread.

  With several mouthfuls of food in her belly, Ondine didn’t feel so hopeless. Another thought soon chased that away. Was she hungry from natural causes or witching ones?

  Hamish helped himself to some of Ondine’s rare beef.

  Feeling full, Ondine put the plate to one side.

  “Are you going to eat that?” Melody said.

  “Give it laldy.” Hamish handed it over.

  “He means you can have at it,” Ondine translated for her friend’s benefit,

  “There you are.” Old Col and Mrs. Howser stood in front of them. Standing together. Like old friends.

  Ondine gulped past the boulder in her throat.

  “Time for our audience with the Duchess,” Mrs. Howser said.

  “Ye mean, all of us?” Hamish asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Mrs. Howser said. “Come along Melody.”

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  Chapter Fourteen

  Standing in the state receiving room, Ondine gulped hard as she and everyone else waited for Duchess Anathea to grace them with her presence. Guilt and fear swirled in her tummy, making her light-headed and lead-bellied. Guilt that they hadn’t done enough to make Anathea popular. Fear that Hamish might never get his work papers and be arrested and deported.

  Or be forced to spend the rest of his years as a ferret.

  Every corner of the room dripped elegance. From the art deco light fittings to the towering vases of flowers on the side tables, this was a properly decorated room. Right down – or more accurately, up – to the glass dome above that flooded the room with natural light.

  Not an ordinary urn of coffee on a table for this room. No. It had a proper coffee-making machine. One that warmed the cups, ground the beans, percolated the coffee at exactly the right temperature and steamed the milk. [240]

  If it had been only her, Hamish and Old Col meeting the Duchess, she would have been nervous. But Ondine had even more worries because Mrs. Howser was in the room. Based on what she and Hamish had overheard by the pool, Mrs. Howser wanted to work for Vincent. She was also dead against Anathea becoming more popular.

  Why had Col allowed her nemesis to come to the meeting?

  So many questions swirled in Ondine’s head she felt a thumping ache coming on. It started at the back of her neck and grew up the left side.

  Howser-shouldn’t-be-here-thump-thump.

  How-do-we-let-Anathea-know-this?-thump-thump.

  Why-isn’t-this-meeting-more-secret?-thump-thump.

  Maybe-Aunt-Col-is-losing-her-mind?-thump-thump.

  Speaking-of-Aunt-Col-I-don’t-seem-to-be-learning-very-much-magic-Bong!

  The clock struck one as Duchess Anathea walked into the meeting room with her fluffy white dog, Biscuit-of-the-half-grown-teeth, trailing after her. Something had changed about Anathea since they’d last met at the Ferris wheel. Her face shone with more gloss than usual. She looked haughty, more commanding. Her blonde hair glowed with vibrant health. Being the head of state clearly agreed with her.

  Hamish slipped his hand in Ondine’s, partially dissolving her worries and head thumps. As one, everyone bowed their heads to show their respect. In the corner of her vision, Ondine couldn’t help notice Mrs. Howser didn’t bow as deeply as everyone else.

  As Anathea sat, Biscuit leapt into her lap and made himself comfortable. The lapdog yawned to reveal a curved row of pointy teeth buds.

  “Told you his teeth would grow back,” Old Col said.

  The Duchess craned the dog’s jaw around to have a look. “Getting there.”

  “That would be Ondine’s doing,” Old Col said. “She’s developing the most agreeable talents.”

  Locking gazes with Ondine, the Duchess said, “That is appreciated.”

  “Thank you,” Ondine said, then silently thought, I think.

  A flute of sparkling wine sat on the table in front of Anathea. She dipped a finger in the bubbles and held it out as Biscuit licked it off. Then she dipped her finger back in and did it again, before she had a sip.

  Ondine’s gorge rose.

  “That’s mockit.” Hamish said.

  Ondine squeezed his hand to silently plead for his . . . well, his silence, really.

  “How goes the task that was set for you?” Anathea asked.

  “Very well thanks,” Ondine said, being careful not to mention the type of task Anathea had set, because if Mrs. Howser found out she’d –

  “If I may be so rude as to interrupt,” Mrs. Howser said, taking a step forward. “You need some special magic, and you need it rather quickly. I believe I and my protégée, Melody – stand up Melody, don’t be shy – will be only too happy to help in any way you see fit.”

  A broad smile – one might almost call it warm – spread across Anathea’s face.

  “Naw, ye dinnae want that,” Hamish blurted.

  “Don’t,” Ondine said under her breath.

  “Oh really?” Anathea said. “And why would I not want to use any help that might be made available?”

  “Because it could dilute the magic, of course,” Old Col chimed in. “Your Lord
ship, I’m not one to blow my own trumpet, but you’ll get your very best results from Ondine and Hamish, I assure you. Mixing the magic with other spells could end up . . . ah . . . well, it could make something of a mess, you see.”

  “If I may speak freely?” Mrs. Howser said.

  Anathea nodded.

  “The original magic between Hamish and Ondine was my creation. As well-meaning as she might be, Colette Romano is misleading you if she thinks she can control it.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Auntie Col’s hands landed hard on her hips.

  Mrs. Howser continued as if everything was fine and dandy, when in reality Ondine was stomach-churningly nervous. “I mean no disrespect,” Mrs Howser said. “But if you want results – real results – then allow me to humbly offer my services.”

  “Uh,” Ondine started, but didn’t know how to go on.

  “There is an objection?” Anathea asked, her gaze locking with Ondine’s. “Is Birgit Howser the originator of your magic or not?”

  Ondine squeaked out, “Well, yes, she probably is.” Then she cleared her throat and tried to explain. “At least, she put the spell on Hamish and then when he bonded with me it set off a chain reaction thingy, but please, Your Grace, let us keep working for you. It’s working so well. The people love you more than ever.” That last bit was a desperate attempt by Ondine to remind Anathea that they were doing their best to make her popular. Because if Anathea started thinking she didn’t need them, what incentive would she have for granting Hamish his citizenship?

  Anathea looked directly to Mrs. Howser. “You mean to say it’s the spell made by you that makes people’s wishes come true?”

  Mrs. Howser made a bow to affirm this.

  “Excuse me! I was the one that turned him into a ferret in the first place!” Old Col snapped.

  It brought the room to a sudden and horribly uncomfortable silence. This could only get messier. Old Col looked weak and watery while Mrs. Howser looked more confident by the second. Mercury’s wings, why did Col agree to let Howser join the meeting?

  “It was one of my spells, Your Grace,” Mrs. Howser said. “Of course, Colette here added her . . . contribution. But it’s no idle boast when I assure you the mutating magic is all of my making.”

  “A ferret?” Anathea said, her eyes growing wider as she looked from Hamish to Old Col and back again.

  Ondine wanted to bury her face in her hands. The cat – or ferret in this case – was well out of the bag. Now that Anathea knew of his other skills, Ondine would bet her life on Anathea wanting him to stay that way and spy for her. Just as the late Duke had done.

  “Aye,” Hamish said.

  Biscuit the dog pricked up his ears.

  Anathea looked from Old Col to Hamish again. “The night you made Biscuit’s teeth fall out. You had a ferret spying under the dining table, didn’t you?”

  “Please, Your Grace, do not upset yourself with trifling matters,” Mrs. Howser said, sounding as slippery as her greasy shadow. “It is enough to say that Colette Romano has been trying to impress you with another witch’s magic. But as I am here now, and I forgive Colette for her transgressions, please consider me a convenient replacement for your magical requirements?”

  “I have not been claiming credit for your work,” Old Col said, her voice wobbling and her expression frail and senior. “That’s not what’s been happening at all.”

  Anathea raised her palm to shush them all. “A ferret you say? This is something to be seen.”

  Ondine and Hamish gulped in unison.

  “Go on.” Old Col sounded defeated. “You may as well show her.”

  “Aye.” Hamish kissed Ondine on the forehead and let go of her hand.

  The grimace on his face made Ondine ache for the pain he had to endure. This transition was slower than his flash-change under the stage, but no less shocking for Ondine to see her true love reduced in such a way. At first his face turned dark, then fur sprang out all over the place, even from his ears. His nose turned pointy as long whiskers sprouted from his cheeks. His ears shrank away into furry triangles. A moment later he vanished under a pile of lifeless clothes.

  “What an interesting thing to be seen,” Anathea said.

  Shambles the ferret poked his pointy, furry face out from under a shirt. The ring she’d bought him for Christmas slipped free and rolled on the floor. An ache started up in Ondine’s heart from the pain of seeing him like this.

  “How very interesting. And how very, very useful,” Anathea said.

  “I was like this for dozens of years, until I met Ondine,” Shambles said. “And when I finally came round, I was still fit-like, on account of the spell Col made. So ye see, she is a great witch, sure she is.”

  “How loyal he is,” Mrs. Howser said. “He would have found it hard to expose Miss Romano’s lack of usable magic, probably based on some kind of gratitude towards her. I’m sure they meant no harm in deceiving you, Your Grace.”

  Ondine protested, “It’s not like that!”

  Biscuit the dog shot out of Anathea’s arms and charged at Shambles.

  “Not again!” Ondine cried. In a flash, she scooped Shambles into her arms, away from the marauding dog. His teeth might be tiny buds, but she wasn’t taking any risks. [241]

  Ru-ru-ru-ru. Biscuit leapt at Ondine, then dug his claws into her pants. Riiiip! Those same claws tore an ugly gash in the fabric on the way down. Defying gravity and lack of fitness, Biscuit leapt even higher. Chomp! His teeth closed around Shambles’s middle.

  “Arrrrrghghghghghghg!” Shambles cried out.

  “Stop it! You’re killing him!” Ondine screamed.

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  Chapter Fifteen

  “Naw, naw, ahahahahahahah!” Shambles garbled.

  It sounded like he was . . . laughing?

  “Awwww, his teeth are so wee! Best tickle fer ages!” At which point Shambles burst into a fresh bout of ferrety giggles.

  With a quick tug, Ondine pulled Shambles away. Biscuit slipped off him and fell to the floor in a puddle of fur. Shambles was covered in slobber, but at least it wasn’t blood. Silently, she chanted, ‘Don’t kick the dog, don’t kick the dog’. No amount of grovelling could make up for that. [242]

  “I can see now why my departed brother wanted to have you around permanently.” Anathea said. “I would like you to perform the same kind of services for me as you did for the late Duke.”

  Shambles said, “Ye honour me, Yer Grace, but I cannae leave Ondi. She’s me life.”

  Such sentiment would ordinarily make Ondine grin with happiness, but not in this kind of atmosphere.

  Anathea shrugged. “I hardly see what difference this makes. You are already supposed to be working for me. I propose it becomes more of a formal arrangement. Where you stay of an evening is entirely your business.”

  “So ye mean, ye want me to work for ye, here in Venzelemma?”

  No, Hamish, you’re supposed to stay with me. We’re never going to be apart again, Ondine wished.

  Anathea’s brows made the slightest crease. “I’m not going back to Bellreeve, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Biscuit barked freshly at Shambles, desperate to gnaw his belly again. Ondine didn’t trust that dog for a second. “Your Grace, it’s not safe for Hamish and Biscuit to be under the same roof. Things will only get worse when his teeth grow back.”

  “Your Grace, thank you for this audience,” Old Col said in a tone that told Ondine it was time they ended this meeting.

  A commotion by the main doors distracted them. As one, everyone turned to see the cause of it. Ondine’s stomach did that hideous dropping away thing as Lord Vincent sauntered in, blue hand and all.

  Did he never wash?

  Shambles crawled up her back to settle on her shoulder. “He doesnae look so good.”

  Understatement of the year. Lord Vincent looked like he’d been turned inside out and shaken a few times, the
n shoved back together in a rush.

  “Dearest nephew,” Anathea said with an imperial tone. “To what do I owe this interruption to my busy schedule?”

  His said in a growly rush, “You are in grave danger.” Perspiration gathered on his forehead, as if it took every ounce of strength for him to be here.

  Like watching a tennis match, Ondine’s eyes shot back and forth between Vincent and Anathea.

  “Really? From whom?” the Duchess gave her return volley.

  “From me!”

  Terrible didn’t even come close to describing how Vincent looked. He staggered forward and drew breath. His face turned grey. Had someone poisoned his food?

  In his next breath he fell to his knees, his eyes rolling back into his head.

  Morbid curiosity took hold. Ondine stepped closer, to get a better look. Vincent’s head snapped forward. He jumped to his feet and thundered at full strength, “You! This is all your doing!”

  Ondine leapt backwards.

  Shambles whispered, “Ondi I think we should –”

  “Die!” Vincent pushed his palm out. Time and space rippled before Ondine’s eyes. A rolling shockwave knocked her to the floor.

  “No!” It was Aunt Col’s voice this time. Dizzy and half-concussed, Ondine saw her witchy great-aunt rebuffing the advancing shockwave. In the next heartbeat Duchess Anathea scooped Biscuit into her arms and hid behind Col, using her as a human shield.

  Where had Mrs. Howser gone? What was she doing all this time? Saving the Duchess? No. She stood there, arms crossed, watching it unfold.

  Melody crouched against the wall, her hands over her ears.

  Thick, heavy pounding reverberated inside Ondine’s head, as if she’d put her ear to a speaker at a rock concert. Shambles flailed about on the floor, moaning and groaning like he was about to revert to human form. He had the worst habit of changing at the exact wrong time. It would be an absolute disaster if he . . . Mercury’s wings, he started changing.

  “No Hamish!”

  Vincent heard her. He stopped duelling with Old Col.

  “Perfect!” In two steps he reached Shambles, drew back his foot and kicked.