The Blue Witch

by Alane Adams

  “Yes.” She felt fine, better than fine, like she could leap over the sun in one jump. “Did I really just meet my father?”

  “I think so. I’m not really sure what happened,” Hugo said.

  “One second you were there, and then you joined hands and you both vanished,” Jasper said.

  Fetch took Abigail’s hand, rubbing it between his furred paws, then put it to his face. “You are filled with starshine, Abigail. Use it to crack the egg so that we might depart.”

  Abigail lined up with the egg again. The daddy Omera was stirring, groaning and twitching his limbs. Big Mama rose up, her eyes glowing with excitement. The two baby Omeras peeked out from behind her.

  “Okay, here goes nothing,” Abigail said. She waved her hands in a tight circle, murmuring to herself. She usually said fein kinter to call on her magic, but today, the words that tripped of her tongue were new.

  “Aredoma flaria.”

  Her palms tingled and began to glow with a golden aura. Her blood burned in her veins as her magic intensified, sending electric jolts through her, until a powerful bolt of blue light shot out. Brighter and more dazzling than any witchfire she had used before, it encircled the egg, which began to vibrate and bounce around.

  After a few moments, a tiny crack appeared.

  “It’s working!” Hugo cried

  Abigail kept it up, unleashing every ounce of magic she had until exhaustion crept into her bones. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself on until, with a loud crack, the eggshell snapped in half.

  Abigail dropped her hands, chest heaving from the effort.

  In the center of the shell sat a small Omera. Its ebony hide glistened with sticky goo. It stretched one delicate wing out and then another. It opened its mouth and let out a pitiful cry.

  Big Mama leaped to its side, giving it a warm bath with her tongue.

  The baby opened its eyes and looked straight at Abigail.

  She caught her breath. The Omera’s eyes were like twin stars, golden and shimmering.

  Fetch approached the baby, ignoring the mother’s warning growl. He petted it once on the head and then nodded, as if it was exactly as he expected.

  “Odin will be pleased,” he said cryptically.

  The daddy Omera lifted a groggy head and then screeched at them. Big Mama snapped back, and he settled down but continued to make a rumbling noise in his chest.

  “Time to go, kids,” Jasper said.

  “How? We can’t hike down that cliff,” Abigail said.

  “Yeah, and I’m not wading through that swamp again,” Hugo added. “Even if I did trap the viken in quicksand, there are still sneevils and things that crawl in the night.”

  Abigail looked at Hugo, eyebrows raised. “I can’t wait to hear that story. But I think I can get us a ride.” She turned to Big Mama.

  The Omera snapped her head toward Abigail.

  “It’s the least you can do,” Abigail said, stepping forward to run her hand over the baby. “His daddy can watch over him until you return.”

  The Omera growled, then turned his head away, as if he couldn’t be bothered to argue.

  Big Mama gave the baby one last lick, then lifted it gently and put it back in the nest with the other two. She lowered herself, dropping one wing, and Abigail climbed onto her back.

  “What are you waiting for?” she asked, grinning at her companions.

  Hugo was next to climb on. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, nervously wrapping his arms around her waist.

  “Sure, I’m sure.”

  But Jasper shook his head. “Fetch and I can take the long way around. Don’t worry about us. You just get home safely.”

  “I won’t have a home much longer,” Abigail said, remembering the contest. “I failed to find and tame a pet creature. Now Endera’s going to win.”

  The Omera launched herself into the air. Abigail thrilled as they dropped down the sheer cliff face. She wrapped her arms around Big Mama’s neck as Hugo clung to her waist.

  And then Big Mama soared up. They flew over the swamps, brushing the tops of the trees. Hugo filled her in on his adventures until they were outside the Tarkana Fortress. The sun was just beginning to set as the Omera coasted down to land.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Abigail said, rubbing the creature’s scaly nose.

  Big Mama chuffed at her and then head-butted her.

  “You’re welcome,” she said with a giggle. “I’m glad I could help.”

  The Omera gathered her thick legs underneath her and launched up into the golden sky.

  “Well, that was an adventure,” Hugo said. “Here, I found your sea emerald.” He put the necklace around her neck.

  “It won’t be mine for much longer,” Abigail sighed. “Once I fail my ABCs, it will belong to Endera.”

  Chapter 23

  Agaggle of witchlings waited outside the dormitory, excitedly chattering about the creatures they had captured. In the center of them, Abigail saw Endera looking around, probably trying to find Abigail and see what she had. Keeping to the deepening twilight shadows, Abigail snuck around to the rear of the building and scrambled up the ivy. She crawled in through her window, dropping onto the bed in an exhausted heap.

  She was neatly tucked under the covers when Madame Vex opened the door and did a bed check. The woman went to the open window and leaned out. Abigail lay still, feigning sleep.

  Mumbling something under her breath, Madame Vex closed the window firmly and left.

  Abigail slept soundly the rest of the night, dreaming of starshine.

  The next morning, she grimly joined the other girls out in the gardens. They each had their pet with them. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. Even with everything that had happened this year, she didn’t want to leave.

  Endera stood next to a giant Shun Kara wolf with shaggy black hair. Its long snout jutted from a square head capped by sharp ears standing at attention. With a twitch of its lips, it revealed glistening fangs.

  The witchling looked Abigail up and down, searching for her creature. When she saw Abigail was empty handed, she began to gloat.

  “Unless you have a worm in your pocket, you’re going to be expelled,” she said, a smile lighting up her face. “I hope you like taking care of nurslings.”

  Madame Barbosa clapped her hands.

  “Inspection time, girls. Madame Vex and I will observe you with your pet. Our decision will be binding.”

  They went down the line. What’s the point of waiting? Abigail thought glumly. She should just pack her bags and leave now.

  She must have shifted her feet, because the next second, Endera’s voice was in her ear.

  “Don’t you move,” Endera hissed. “You’re going to watch me win, and then you’re going to hand over that sea emerald.”

  Abigail just sighed.

  Watching over the nurslings would be okay.

  She kept repeating that to herself as, one by one, Madame Barbosa oohed and aahed over the creatures. Madame Vex kept her nose in the air, giving a brief nod of her head at each one. Most of the girls had managed to charm shreeks that carried their bookbags. Portia had a pair of shreeks that flew around her head, quickly braiding her hair. Minxie had enchanted a rathos that ate pickled cheese from her hand. Nelly had wrangled a young sneevil that stood up on its back paws. Her hands were bandaged from the pokes of its tiny tusks, but even Madame Vex was impressed.

  Next up was a quiet girl named Lucilla. She stood with her head down, hands empty. She sniffled loudly as Madame Vex pointed at the gates.

  “Pack your things and go.”

  The poor witchling dragged herself off.

  Abigail sighed. She wouldn’t be far behind.

  They moved on to Glorian, who had an old shreek with wrinkled graying skin. It snored loudly in its cage, refusing to wake up. Madame Vex just sniffed. “Hardly worth the effort,” she said.

  Madame Barbosa patted the girl on the shoulder. “A passing grade, dear, but next time, do try harder.�
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  Endera was next.

  The witchling stood by her Shun Kara, chest puffed out, looking as proud as the beast. She snapped her fingers, and it growled, baring white fangs that gleamed with hunger.

  “My, my,” Madame Barbosa purred, reaching out one hand to scratch the beast’s ears. “This is a fine specimen. Can you make it do something?”

  Endera took a bone from her pocket and threw it in a high arc.

  The animal lunged forward and raced in a blur across the clearing, snatching the bone from the air before it hit the ground. It skidded to a stop, tearing a hole in the grass, and then trotted proudly back to Endera’s side and dropped it at her feet.

  Endera folded her arms and glowed, as if she were already Head Witchling.

  Abigail sighed to herself. It wasn’t fair. It really wasn’t. But still, saving the baby Omera had made her feel . . . good.

  She put on a smile as the pair of teachers stopped in front of her.

  “Well, Abigail, what have you to show us?” Madame Barbosa asked, looking over Abigail’s shoulder to see if she was hiding a creature.

  Abigail opened her mouth to admit she had failed when an ominous shadow flashed across the sky. The sound of rushing wind and beating wings sent a ripple of excitement fluttering through her. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

  But it was.

  With a loud thump, Big Mama landed on the grass and shrieked horribly, sending the witchlings screaming for cover.

  Madame Barbosa and Madame Vex drew their hands up, ready to send a blast of deadly witchfire, but Abigail threw herself in front of the creature.

  “No, don’t. She’s . . . she’s with me,” she said. “Surprise!” Abigail scratched Big Mama’s scaly black head, and the Omera huffed in pleasure.

  “You tamed an . . . an . . . uh . . .” Madame Barbosa was rendered speechless.

  Madame Vex’s face was ashen. “Send it away, you fool. A wild Omera could kill any of us with an accidental jab of its spiked tail.”

  Abigail turned and put her arms around Big Mama’s neck. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You can go home now.”

  It was probably her imagination, but it looked as if the Omera winked at her. Then it sprang into the sky and winged away.

  Abigail turned back to face the staring crowd of girls. “Well, did I win?”

  “No, no, no!” Endera shrieked, stomping her foot. “It’s not fair. I got a Shun Kara wolf!” The animal howled in support.

  “Now, Endera,” Madame Barbosa said. “Be a good sport. I think it’s clear who the winner is. Abigail, please come forward and claim your Head Witchling pin.”

  Abigail stepped up, and Madame Barbosa pinned the prized gold pin, a letter T for the Tarkana Academy, to her dress. As the two older witches walked away, still muttering over Abigail’s feat, Abigail turned to Endera. The girl had furious tears running down her cheeks.

  “I believe you owe me one spellbook,” Abigail said, triumphantly holding out her hand.

  Endera’s lips trembled. The girl reached down into her school bag and pulled out a thin book. It was made of scarred black leather and the pages were yellowed.

  Endera held on to it tightly. Her eyes were like daggers as she glared at Abigail. “I swear, Abigail Tarkana, you will regret this.” Then she shoved the book into Abigail’s hands and stomped off. Her Shun Kara loped after her, followed by Glorian and Nelly.

  The rest of the witchlings crowded around Abigail, patting her on the back and cheering her.

  Abigail was enjoying every bit of the attention until a prickly feeling ran up her spine.

  She turned, searching for the source of her unease. There. Up in the tower. A woman stood in the window, watching her.

  Melistra.

  Abigail shivered as the powerful witch stared at her.

  Suddenly, she wished she had asked for anything but Endera’s spellbook.

  Chapter 24

  Imust be dreaming, Abigail decided. Here she was sitting at Yule Day’s Eve lunch with all the popular girls, and everyone was hanging on her every word.

  The Dining Hall had been decorated with fir tree trimmings and scented pinecones. Candles glittered on every table, adding a festive quality to the room. A fire burned in the hearth, and some of the girls were cooking popcorn.

  Ever since she had won the Head Witchling competition, Abigail had been the center of attention. No more eating alone in the corner. No more waiting to be picked for partner in Positively Potent Potions.

  No. As Head Witchling of the firstling’s class, Abigail was suddenly the queen bee. The belle of the ball. The it girl.

  “Tell us again, Abby dear, what happened when you met the Omera,” Portia asked. The school’s most beautiful firstling looked at Abigail with her large teal green eyes, hands clasped in her lap as she waited for Abigail’s answer.

  “Well, it happened like this . . .”

  Abigail launched once more into the tale of how she had come across the black-winged Omera in the swamps and cast her charm spell over it.

  Of course, she left out the part where it had kidnapped her and taken her to its nest to help hatch its youngling. She especially left out the part where she had met her father and been filled with starshine.

  Because that was hard to explain.

  “I know you cheated,” a voice snarled.

  Abigail didn’t have to turn around to know that sour voice had come from Endera.

  She let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, Endera, are you still jealous because I won and took your precious spell-book?” Abigail ran a hand over the thin tome that rested on the table. A shiver ran up her spine.

  Truth be told, Abigail hadn’t even opened it. The leathery skin quivered under her touch, as if it were alive. She wanted nothing more than to shove the ugly thing deep down in her bookbag, but she wouldn’t back down to Endera.

  Twin spots of red marked Endera’s cheeks as she faced off against Abigail. “Wild Omeras are impossible to charm. So that means you cheated. That book is mine, and I will get it back.”

  Next to her, Nelly smirked, “I bet she doesn’t even know how to uuuuse it.”

  On the other side of Endera, Glorian nodded vigorously. “That’s right. She’s probably too scared to even open it.”

  An oily whisper tickled Abigail’s ears.

  Do it. Show her. Show them all what you can do, dark witch.

  Abigail’s spine tightened, and she found her voice. “Is that so?” she said sweetly. It was time to shut Endera and her pals up for good. “Let’s see, shall we?” She opened the book to a random page.

  The letters were a blur, but they swam into focus as she pressed her finger down on the parchment and recited the hand-inked words.

  “Gally mordana, gilly pormona, gelly venoma.”

  Her words rang out as a hush fell over the room. Even the upper-level girls sensed a change in the atmosphere. A hundred pairs of eyes turned on Abigail. Dread rushed through her veins.

  What have I done?

  The three witchlings backed away, looking frightened, but before they’d taken two steps, they began to shimmer. Glorian’s whole body shook. Nelly’s eyes grew wide.

  Endera shouted, “No! Take it back!”

  But she was too late. With a sucking gloop, all three girls disappeared.

  There was a moment of shocked silence. And then the Dining Hall erupted into applause.

  “Great trick, Abigail,” Portia said, clapping her hands in delight.

  The applause faded away as she and the other witch-lings waited for Abigail to make the girls reappear.

  “Go ahead,” Portia prompted. “Bring them back now.”

  Abigail stood frozen in place. The spellbook dangled numbly from her fingers. Her brain couldn’t take in what she had just done. That kind of magic was . . . intoxicating. Her blood soared, but at the same time she felt nauseous. Sick.

  Because not only were Endera and her friends gone, but Abigail had no idea where they were or, more imp
ortantly, how to get them back.

  The door to the Dining Hall banged open, and Madame Vex swept in, pausing in the entrance. “What is going on?”

  She wrinkled her nose, sniffing the air, as if she could smell the traces of the spell Abigail had cast.

  The crowd of witchlings around Abigail parted and stepped back.

  Swooping down on Abigail, her eyes flared at the sight of the spellbook in her hands.

  “Abigail Tarkana, what have you done?”

  Chapter 25

  Hugo sat in the jookberry tree, swinging his legs, and checked the time on his pocket watch. Abigail should have been here an hour ago. She had promised she would come, double crossed her heart.

  Who am I kidding? he thought with a sigh. Abigail had bigger fish to fry now that she was so popular.

  In fact, ever since she had won the Head Witchling competition, Abigail had been too busy to spend time with Hugo.

  “Sorry, Hugo, but Minxie and the girls want me to show them how I braid my hair,” she had said the first day. “Maybe we can hang out tomorrow.”

  The second day it had been, “Dear Hugo, the most popular girl in school, Portia Tarkana, well, she wants me to teach her how I get this glow to my skin. I promise tomorrow—super swear—I will be there.”

  Then she’d raced off to join the flock of fawning girls that seemed to follow her everywhere.

  Abigail was getting such a big head, it was a miracle she could fit into her uniform.

  He should just go home. His mother would be fixing her annual Yule Day fig pudding, and later they would each open a small gift around the fire. That’s what he should do. But he and Abigail hadn’t learned anything new in ages, and he wanted answers, at the very least to show Abigail he was still useful to have around. He pulled out his notebook, studying the pages of notes.

  They now knew Abigail’s blue witchfire came from her father. But they still didn’t know why Lissandra had been running away and how she had died. Abigail could still be in danger. If he was going to get to the bottom of it, he needed to find out more about Lissandra.