The Ondine Collection

by Ebony McKenna

  Provided they had something to celebrate.

  “They should call the vote sharpish,” Hamish said. “Me stomach’s about tae eat itself.”

  That put a fresh smile on Ondine’s face.

  “Don’t forget the reason you’re here. Your work is not over yet.” Old Col said.

  Which wiped the smile straight off Ondine’s face. It was ridiculous that she should fear the outcome of this vote. Their make-other-people’s-wishes-come-true magic had helped Anathea become Brugel’s most popular leader of all time, but the Dentate members still had to vote and make it a reality.

  Hamish curled his fingers into Ondine’s and caressed her palm with his thumb as the speaker called for the members to cast their votes. He nuzzled into her ear and kissed the tender spot just below her ear lobe.

  Everything turned fuzzy and a wee bit lovely for a moment.

  “You’re in public, keep it nice,” Ma said.

  “It’s for Brugel, Ma,” Ondine said, surprised with how coherent she sounded as Hamish playfully nipped her ear and turned her brain to syrup.

  They lost track of time and completely forgot there were people around them, as couples are wont to do when they are so deliciously loved-up.

  “You can stop now, they’ve all voted,” Ma said with an elbow to Ondine.

  Heart almost stopping with anticipation, Ondine waited for the numbers to play out, with the counting of ‘igens’ to pass the law and the ‘nincs’ to shoot it down. [267] At the end of the tallying, the vote cleared with one hundred and eighteen in favour of the bill, eighty-three against.

  “Ye did it!” Hamish nudged her shoulder and gave her his wickedest grin.

  “We did it,” she said with a massive sigh of relief.

  Looking across the gallery, they saw Anathea in the royal box. She was on her feet, waving to the politicians below and blowing kisses to the public gallery. The new law secured Anathea’s tenure as the Duchess for life. In time, it could even be possible for her daughters to inherit ahead of Vincent, but that would be another vote for another time.

  “Vincent will be spitting cheeseballs,” Hamish said.

  “He promised he’d make peace. We all saw it,” Ondine said. “Anyway, I’m sure he’s distracted with Melody right now.”

  “Just as we shall soon be distracted with a free meal,” Old Col said with a gleam in her eyes. “The Duchess invited us to a celebratory luncheon. Come along.”

  Ondine, Hamish and Ma followed Great-Auntie Col to the Dentate dining room. Ondine gave Hamish’s hand a squeeze as a waiter showed them to their table. How lovely to be dining out somewhere other than her family’s pub. Not that the food would be up to Henrik’s standards, but she felt so much more relaxed knowing she didn’t have to clean up afterwards.

  She didn’t even have to pay the bill!

  Talk about posh! The tables were covered in cream-coloured linen with matching napkins. Each centrepiece had sprigs of budding willow surrounded by lush red tree peonies. As they sat down (the waiter held her seat back for her) Ondine couldn’t resist turning over the cutlery. A surge of national pride came over her as she saw the silver maker’s hallmarks and the hexagonal stamp of Brugel.

  Somebody else filled their glasses with chilled water and asked if they’d like anything from the wine list.

  “I’m not sure I should,” Ondine said, feeling heat roar up her face. What would her mother say?

  She didn’t have to think long about that. Sitting at the adjacent table, her mother leaned over and said, “I’ll give you a taste of mine.”

  That seemed like a fair compromise, so she ordered a pineapple juice in the meantime.

  A hush stole over the room and everyone stood to attention. Ondine looked to where everyone else was looking. The doorman announced the arrival of “The Honourable First Minister of Brugel, Natalya Cebotari.” After the applause softened for her, he announced, “Her Lordship, the Duchess of Brugel.”

  Rousing applause greeted Anathea as she made her way to the centre of a long table, raised on a dais so everyone could see her.

  Under their table, situated towards the back of the room, Hamish rubbed his foot against the side of Ondine’s. “Look at us, eh lass.”

  “I know!” giggled Ondine. She could hardly believe they were here. Having lunch in the most exclusive, invitation-only restaurant in all of Brugel – The Dentate Dining Room.

  “Ye deserve it, for all ye’ve done.” Hamish held up his glass of water. Ondine responded by clinking her glass against his.

  Mercury’s Wings, this was the life.

  The courses – and they were numerous – were each more delicious than the last. For a moment Ondine wondered if Henrik had a doppelganger working in the Dentate kitchens, the food was that good. After the waiters took the main meal plates away, Duchess Anathea rose from her seat.

  Everyone in the restaurant stopped what they were doing and rose from their seats in respect.

  “Thank you,” Anathea said. “This luncheon has been beautifully prepared. The chef is to be congratulated.”

  The guests applauded in agreement. Ondine nearly called out “hear-hear” but held back in case it was a breach of protocol.

  As Anathea looked out across her audience, her eyes rested on Hamish and Ondine. She smiled and made the slightest nod in recognition. That’s when Ondine noticed Biscuit the dog was not around. Wow, that had to mean this was a seriously formal occasion if she didn’t have the dog with her.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend today’s historic vote in the Dentate and dine with me.”

  Polite applause. For Ondine, her busy schedule included washing dishes. Hmmm, menial housework or go to lunch? What a no-brainer.

  Anathea smiled as much as her barely-moving face could smile. “In these changing times, we seek certainty in all things. Brugel has experienced times of uncertainty, but the late Duke Pavla’s legacy will be carried on now that the tenure of the Duchy is secure.”

  Despite the goodwill in the room, Ondine felt she couldn’t relax. Not until Hamish had his papers so he could stay in Brugel instead of facing deportation.

  “We’ll all be jogging home to work this off,” Ma said as she patted her stomach.

  “Enjoy it,” Old Col said as a waiter came and refilled their wine glasses. “Oh, no more for me please, I’ll fall off my broomstick.”

  “Yes ma-am,” the waiter said without a blink. “May I suggest a stroll through the gardens after your meals? Don’t worry about being cold, the conservatory is virtually tropical this time of year.”

  “Thank you,” Ma said. “That’s a lovely idea.”

  After their lunch was over, they took the waiter’s advice and visited the orangery, where the outdoors came indoors. Trees and shrubs grew in proper dirt and flowers bloomed in well-tended beds, all under the protection of huge sheets of glass overhead.

  “Ru-ru-ru-ru,” they heard a dog yap.

  Hamish turned to Ondine. “That sounds like . . .”

  “Biscuit?” Ondine said. They turned to see a familiar white fluffy dog barrelling towards them.

  “Not the clothes!” Ma held up her foot to ward the dog away.

  “Biscuit, heel!” Duchess Anathea said as she came into view. She’d changed into a cream-coloured suit that swished with each step she took. “Ondine, Hamish, thank you once again for all your help. I would never have thought about using the vacuum cleaner without your prompting.”

  “You’re welcome,” Ondine and Hamish said together.

  “And now, there is a debt to be repaid.” She turned to Hamish and reached into the inside of her jacket for a sheaf of folded paper. “Thank you again, for everything you’ve done for Brugel. This document, signed by myself and First Minister Cebotari, grants you Brugelish citizenship and gives you the freedom of the city.”

  Tears of happiness blurred Ondine’s vision as Hamish took the papers from Anathea and
made a low bow. When he finished, he said, “Och, come here,” and gave the Duchess a massive squeeze.

  “Steady!” Anathea said. “This suit can’t be returned if it’s wrinkled!”

  “Aye.” Hamish un-squeezed himself from Anathea. Then he unfolded the document so he and Ondine could gaze upon it. She couldn’t read it through her happy tears.

  “Thank you,” Ondine said, as she wiped her cheeks. No crying onto the paper, it would leave splotches. And she dare not cry onto her clothes either because tear stains left salt-rings.

  “Now, we need to talk about Birgit,” the Duchess said.

  “Must we?” Hamish and Ondine said together.

  “Is she still . . . ?” Old Col asked.

  “In a secure facility? Yes,” Anathea said. “In two of them, in fact. Her person is in the asylum and her soul is in the vacuum cleaner bag, in a safe. As long as we keep the two pieces apart, she can do no further damage.”

  Old Col made a sniffing sound. “That’s the best we could hope for I suppose.”

  Tucking the certificate inside his coat pocket, Hamish turned to Ondine and reached for her hand. “I think we did good, lass.”

  Ondine beamed and nestled into him, feeling that at last, all was right with the world.

  “Don’t crease your clothes,” Ma said. “Or we won’t get the refunds.

  “Yes, Ma,” Ondine said with a giggle.

  “Come on kids, let’s go home.” Old Col said.

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  Epilogue

  Weak afternoon sunshine greeted them as they walked to the railway station. The banks of snow on the streets were melting into brown slurry. It sloshed down the steps to the platform, spraying Ondine’s boots. She raised her hem to avoid staining her skirt, but the act only exposed her legs to cold splashes of mud.

  “Allow me,” Hamish scooped her up and carried her in his arms.

  Ondine snuggled into him, feeling warm and protected. She heard Old Col tisk behind them.

  They caught the train home, but dared not sit on the wet wooden bench seats in case they left stains on their fabric. Throughout the day other passengers had brought slurry on the train with their boots and bags, coating every flat surface with slop. Possibly because passengers had been standing on the bench seats to avoid the river of slush sliding and slopping up and down the aisle.

  At last they reached their station. The late afternoon sun tried desperately to wring out the last little bit of shine on the neighbourhood. The streetlights were already on and the neon dragon out the front of On The Fang flickered into life.

  “Oh how sweet!” Ondine squeezed Hamish’s hand as she saw an early sign of spring. The raised garden beds near the station still had plenty of snow, but a clutch of bright yellow crocus flowers had broken through.

  “Aye, I’ll be glad to see the back of winter.”

  “On that, I agree,” Old Col said.

  LATER, AFTER THEY’D swept the last of the customers out into the cold, slushy February night, Ondine banked the open fire and locked the screen in place. Her back ached from leaning over the sink all evening washing dishes and she was about ready to collapse into bed.

  “Yer mother works ye too hard, lass.”

  She turned to find Hamish grinning at her, holding something behind his back. With a self-conscious flourish, he produced a bouquet of golden crocus.

  “They’re beautiful,” she held them to her chest, “thank you.”

  “Ye’ve been on yer feet all night; ye need to sit down fer a while.”

  Good idea. Ondine plonked her crocuses into one of the table vases, then reached for a dining chair and pulled it out to face the fire. Hamish did the same and sat beside her. It felt so natural to rest her head on his shoulder and, oh how lovely, he put his arm around her and held her close.

  In the background, the radio news invaded their idyll with stories of strange magic spreading to the United States, Japan and even as far away as Australia.

  With a heavy sigh, Ondine said, “I can’t help wondering if that’s all my fault.”

  “Dinnae fash yerself,” [268] Hamish said as he played with her hair.

  “I can’t help it,” she said with an even louder sigh. “I mean, we’ve won this battle and helped Anathea, but I can’t help thinking there’s a bigger war that’s only just beginning.”

  The last coals of the fire glowed dimly, giving out scant heat. Ondine shivered as the cold air and even colder thoughts took place.

  Hamish produced a blanket and tucked it over her, keeping her warm. She snuggled in further, sharing the warmth. He’d thought of everything, hadn’t he?

  “This is going to sound strange,” she said, “but I think I like being magic. I like making other people’s wishes come true. And if there is more of this weirdness going around, I’d much rather have some magic in me to tackle it, than no magic at all.”

  “Aye, that’s because ye’ve got a heart as big as Brugel,” he said, touching the tip of his nose to hers.

  She luxuriated in his attention, then pulled back for a moment. “You have put your papers somewhere safe, haven’t you?”

  “In the strong box under the floor in the kitchen.” He pressed his forehead lightly against hers. “Now dry yer eyes, all is right with the world.”

  “No Hamish, don’t say that out loud. The minute you do, the universe conspires to make something awful happen.”

  Hamish chuckled and held her closer. “OK, I’ll nae say it again. I’ll just think it.”

  “Don’t even think it.” She gave him a poke in the ribs.

  He tickled her in retaliation and they became silly and giddy for a moment. When they eventually stopped, and Ondine caught her breath back, she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy in my life as I am right now.”

  “Och, lass, it’s just the beginning.”

  He kissed her so sweetly she thought she’d float away. There was no heat left in the fire, yet her body radiated warmth.

  “I love you, Hamish.”

  “And I love you, Ondi.”

  They shared more sweet kisses and snuggled under the blanket, feeling yummy and lush. They stayed there, wrapped in each other, until the sun peeked over the hills heralding the beginning of a new day.

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  –THE END–

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  ONDINE BOOK 4

  The Spring Revolution

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Astral projection. Some people are great at it; others are famous for sleeping right through it.

  Take the almost-sixteen-year-old Ondine, for example. By all accounts she’s a healthy teen, eats well, has her regular share of bad and good hair days. (Long, wispy and brown. What can you do?) Being our brave and clever heroine, Ondine is blessed with ‘resting curious face’, which means she often looks like she knows what’s going on. Even if she doesn’t.

  At the end of a long day of working for her family in their pub, The Duke and Ferret in downtown Venzelemma, the capital city of Brugel, Ondine is also blessed with the ability to fall asleep three minutes and twenty-two seconds after climbing into bed. She has neither the energy nor the inclination to develop her astral projection abilities. It would involve meditating, then separating her spiritual body from the physical to then journey – along what is known in psychic circles as the astral plane – from her mind and project herself into the mind of another.

  Or travel to various psychic destinations.

  On the other hand, witch-in-training Melody, who is getting the colour back into her cheeks after the strain of working with the ‘bad witch’ Mrs Howser, is an absolute natural at astral projection. Melody and Ondine first met at Psychic Summercamp, three seasons (and three books) ago. Melody proved to be so good at astral projection, she can now travel by day or night and visit people who are either asleep or awake – sometimes wit
hout the recipient even knowing. Plus, Melody can take people with her on these journeys, visiting places or people anywhere in the city, or indeed any part of Brugel (a country in eastern Europe that has still not won the Eurovision Song Contest).

  So it came as no surprise to Ondine, as she was asleep in her bedroom above the family pub, to see and hear Melody appear at the end of her bed one rainy spring evening, sitting as comfortably as you like. Even though it was the middle of the night, and, as previously stated, it was raining. Pouring down, it was. Hitting the windowpanes at a fierce angle and diluting the last of the winter snow into slurry. Exactly the kind of weather you don’t want to be out in, even if you do have seriously important news you simply can’t wait until morning to tell your friend. Which is again why astral is so useful, as travel along the psychic plane is not weather-dependant.

  Melody looked dry and warm as she folded her travelling witch cloak over her knees and smiled her brightest smile for Ondine.

  “You’re totally owning astral,” Ondine said.

  Melody beamed with confidence. “Yeah, I am. You’re still asleep, by the way.”

  “Am I?” Ondine made to rub her eyes, like she normally did upon waking, but found that her arm had turned rubbery and she only mooshed her head into the pillow instead. The pillow felt as soft and squishy as pizza dough. So doughy. So drowsy.

  “I have something you need to see,” Melody said, holding out her hand. “Come with me.”

  “Do I have to wake up?” Ondine nibbled at the corner of her pizza dough pillow. Mmmm, yeasty.

  “No, it’s best if you stay asleep for this,” Melody took her limp palm. “This is really important, so hold my hand the whole time and don’t fall asleep on me, OK?”

  “I thought you said I was asleep?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  As Ondine’s hand slipped into Melody’s, she saw a third person appear in the room.