Pointy Hats and Witchy Cats

by Addison Creek

  “The cloud potion,” she explained.

  “Why would we ever want to do that?” Hannah asked. “Isn’t that for someone else to do? Like if we need rain or something?”

  Ms. Mallon scrutinized her. She was clearly conflicted about the whole Carlisle clan. She didn’t want to get on their bad side, but she thought they were too privileged.

  “Someone else could do it, or you could do it yourself,” she explained lamely.

  Hannah shrugged.

  Taylor scuffed her foot on the ground as if what Ms. Mallon was saying truly was a mystery.

  “Jade! Why don’t you give it a go?” Ms. Mallon said.

  “Um, okay,” I said, and stepped forward. All eyes were suddenly on me.

  My bottle of potion was in my hand. We had spent all last week brewing it. Mine had come out the right color, but Ms. Mallon thought the consistency might be a little thick. Without having any idea what that boded if I drank my concoction, I took the tiniest of sips, then made the special wrist motion that went along with it, a kind of flick and twist that might have been an especially cool dance move.

  At first nothing happened.

  Taylor gave Hannah a look that said she wasn’t surprised.

  But then, all of a sudden, the already sticky air in front of me started to form a thicker sort of paste. Everyone’s skepticism was stopped in its tracks.

  A small, sickly-looking sort of yellow cloud was forming in front of me. Even better, it got bigger and bigger and the color became less thick and more cloud-like, relaxing into a soft gray. In front of my face the cloud had expanded into a mass about the size of my head.

  Shocked, nobody moved. The hot air, judgmental witches, and everything else fell away. My first spell was well and truly successful.

  Then it popped and a bucket’s worth of liquid rained down on the floor, splashing my shoes.

  “That’s more like it,” murmured Hannah, turning away with a smirk.

  Despite the fact that she tried to cover it up, I could still see that she was impressed.

  I glanced at Ms. Mallon. She gave me one curt nod.

  “In honor of this momentous occasion, I’m gong to give you all permission to leave early today,” she said.

  Taylor opened her mouth to say something, surely something unpleasant, but quickly snapped it shut.

  “I’ll call my driver,” Hannah offered, as if without a ride home an early release was unacceptable.

  We all went to gather our things. I carefully replaced my potion bottle back with the others. None of the other potions I had attempted—just two of them—had worked out. This one sort of had.

  I was downright getting the hang of it.

  As we put away our supplies, I wondered again about where I’d get a crystal ball. We had all been given some supplies by our families, a variety of herbs and basic ingredients. Ms. Mallon had supplied us with crystal balls to start off with, but those too we’d need to supply for ourselves after deportment. I hadn’t addressed that problem with my grandmother; surely she already knew about it. Either she had a crystal ball for me or she didn’t, and I was content to worry about it later.

  Once everything was put away, I joined Jackie and Kelly at the door. Glory was running out to play a soccer game while the others were nowhere to be seen.

  “It’s so hot out,” Jackie complained when we got outside.

  The day was in fact muggy and gray. I wished I had worn a skirt instead of jeans.

  “What’s going on?” Kelly whispered.

  I hadn’t noticed at first, but people were hurrying away from us and forming a crowd near the common.

  “More excitement!” said Jackie sarcastically.

  Her mom was the mayor, after all. Whenever there was drama, the mayor had to deal with it and was late to supper. Jackie’s mom hated being late for summer.

  Along with everyone else we hurried toward the common, which was a green space surrounded by cobblestones. There were now many townsfolk milling around and looking concerned. Something big had happened, and everyone in the vicinity had come to see what it was.

  When we got nearer, I noticed a large poster of a woman’s face tacked onto a wall. The woman looked vaguely familiar, and then I knew why.

  “That’s my mom’s poster!” cried Jackie, hurrying forward.

  Up close, the sight was frightening. The poster had been slashed, and black ink ran down in big streaks across the whole thing, so that the woman’s face was half blotted out. Everyone in the common stood silently, watching, except Jackie.

  Jackie darted forward with tears on her face. She had just reached the poster, intent on tearing it down, when Quinn stepped out of the crowd.

  Murmurs went up around us that the sheriff had arrived, and he moved quickly to stand between the poster and Jackie. He spoke to her so quietly that I couldn’t hear what he said, but Jackie shook her head furiously. Quill kept speaking in an even, soft tone, ignoring everything else and concentrating his attention on Jackie alone.

  Finally Jackie relented. When it was clear that she wasn’t going to rip down the poster, Joy stepped out of the crowd holding a roll of bright green roll, Twinkleford’s version of crime scene tape.

  Our witch debutant debuts couldn’t come fast enough.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  One thing I still hadn’t gotten used to was how talkative and aware a lot of the creatures in Twinkleford were. The cats could speak to some people even if they couldn’t speak to me. On the first morning when I went to class alone, a red and orange speckled cow had said hello to me.

  The swamp was especially interesting. Those creatures liked to jump out and yell insults before disappearing back into the murky depths. From time to time I would see the giant butterflies gracing the skies, their wings joyfully wide. The butterflies didn’t speak, but they seemed as aware as all the rest.

  It was on one such walk, as I was heading home after deportment class, that I came across a goat.

  He was white with gray hooves and a black streak down his forehead. I had seen him before, always standing in the same spot in Bottle Borough. Many of the misfit supernaturals lived there, though it wasn’t as bad as my family’s borough.

  “HEY! You there! Only started seeing you around recently! Where are you walking so fast?” the goat yelled to me.

  When I realized that I was understanding the slurred speech coming out of the mouth of a goat, I nearly tripped.

  “Yeah, that’s right! Who wants to pay attention to the goat?” he yelled.

  All the other passersby simply ignored him and continued to walk along as if this was an everyday occurrence. Unfortunately, I could not.

  Then something splattered at my feet and a very unpleasant smell wafted up to me. I looked down, dreading what I would see, and found a pillow of goat poop. This town certainly was big on its poop. I scrunched up my nose and stepped backward, grateful that at least none of it had gotten onto my shoes.

  “What? Can’t take a little mess! It’s not real poop, it’s mud, you . . .” He didn’t finish his insult because he hiccuped.

  I looked helplessly around. There wasn’t a single helpful face looking back at me.

  The goat kicked up another pile of mud with one of his back hooves and hurled it at me.

  Whenever I tried to sidestep the mess the goat took issue with it. Basically, I couldn’t go forward. The only trouble was that home was forward.

  “Here, let me help you,” said a man’s deep voice. Had it come from a cave? Something definitely deep and dark. I glanced over my shoulder and gasped.

  And there was the sheriff, dressed as a sheriff and everything. His uniform was sleek and fit him like a glove. The garment factory must have spun it to fit him perfectly.

  I guessed they had put gold into the lining especially for him. I wondered how he so often seemed to know when I was in trouble, and showed up to help me out of it. Maybe he had cat spies everywhere in Twinkleford.

  “You spoke to me fine so
far. You’ve also done your fair share of yelling at me. Have you so soon forgotten English?” he asked, when I just gaped.

  I shook my head. Nope, I spoke perfectly fine.

  In my head!

  Idiot!

  “Hi,” I squeaked.

  A splotchy sound at my feet made me squeal.

  “YOU ARE THE WORST AT FLIRTING! SO AWKWARD,” the goat yelled.

  Then he took a swig of liquid.

  Quinn eyed him sternly, while I desperately wished I could melt into the ground and never have to show my face again. Was I trying to flirt with Smoldering? I really didn’t think so. But I did have to admit to myself that I was both furious with him and thinking about him more than I should.

  The goat tried to focus his eyes but quickly gave up.

  Quinn walked over to him. The goat tried to get the bottle away, but Quinn was faster.

  “It’s Friday! My missus says I can drink on Fridays! I always do what she tells me. What she tells me . . . you are tall,” he said to Quinn.

  “Yes, my mother thinks so too,” said Quinn dryly. In one deft movement he picked up the goat, then handed me the bottle that the goat had been drinking from.

  “Let’s get him home. It’s on the way,” he said to me, starting to walk away without waiting to hear my response. I hurried to catch up.

  “How are classes going?” he asked.

  The goat started to snore in his arms.

  “Fine,” I said. “Just thrown into this whole new world without warning and expected to succeed at the most important witch test of my life with only a few weeks to prepare. So everything’s fine.”

  Quinn quirked one eyebrow at me. I felt a little ridiculous complaining, given that he was carrying a drunken goat home. With that load, his limp looked more pronounced again.

  “How did you find me that first night?” I asked.

  This was something I had wanted to know since I’d arrived in Twinkleford.

  “You mean the night before the wedding? The dream part was a hunch. We have our methods for finding witches. We realized that your grandmother was corresponding with someone outside Twinkleford. At first we thought it might be your sister. That’s who we were trying to find. Then we realized that it was your father.”

  “You came because you thought Ethel might be there?” I gasped.

  “Oh, she’s mad at you,” said the goat before dropping his head again.

  “I can see that,” said Quinn dryly.

  “We follow leads wherever they might take us. Yes, it’s not that far-fetched to think that Ethel might have been wherever your were. You’re her sister, and you were somewhere safe,” he explained.

  “Clearly not,” I muttered.

  “You couldn’t have known that you’re the only Rhinestone left to join the coven and keep the generational line continuous,” he explained.

  “That was a big word,” muttered the ghost. This time he didn’t bother raising his head.

  “So you followed my grandmother?” I fumed. “That’s . . . that’s . . . spying!”

  “Not when we have permission to do it. We had someone following her, but no. If you’ll recall, we got there ahead of your grandmother. We were hoping to find Ethel before Bethel showed up. We didn’t,” he sighed.

  “Of course not!” I cried triumphantly. “She wasn’t there!”

  “We know that now,” he said.

  We had reached a paddock with a terribly cute hut attached. There was even a garden, although half of it looked chewed to rags.

  Just as we got there a lady goat came out. She was wearing a bright purple bonnet and little ankle decorations, also in purple.

  “What’s he done now! Really, you’d think he could handle his liquor. Suppose that isn’t fair. I used to drink him under the table, poor lamb. I mean, goat.” She arrived at the gate and continued, looking at me, “Haven’t seen you before.”

  I introduced myself.

  “Ah, yes. We’ve been hearing a lot about you. Good luck to you. You’ll need it,” she said.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Same place as usual?” Quinn asked her.

  “Of course,” she said, letting Quinn through the gate.

  The sheriff told me to wait there, then disappeared, but I didn’t have to wait long. He was gone only long enough to set the goat down and get out of there.

  “Those are the Carthrights. Nice folks. Mikey and Mindie,” he said as we walked on up the road.

  “Mindie doesn’t seem to think Mikey can keep up,” I said dryly.

  Quinn chuckled.

  “They’ve been together since they were children. She’s always led him around,” he said.

  As I walked, something struck me. I couldn’t even have a normal conversation around here without a drunken goat interrupting.

  Chapter Thirty

  I had taken my little walk with Quinn on the last afternoon I had to relax before the debutant competition. I no longer wondered what his motivations were for searching out my sister. I didn’t even care about defending her. I was too worried about keeping our family from being kicked out of the coven.

  Bethel had made it clear that our only hope was for me to become a witch. If I didn’t get my cape, shoes, and witch hat, we were done for. My grandmother was spending her evenings out with the unicorns; she didn’t think we’d be allowed to take care of them any longer if we were no longer members of the coven, and she wanted to spend as much time with them as she could before she had to say good-bye.

  Lately I had spent my evenings reading. I never would have known that my nights would be so fascinating. Once I discovered what Quinn was, I couldn’t help it.

  At first I hadn’t thought much of it; vampires were a dime a dozen in the world that was now mine. Not so with half-mermen. There was only one of those, and the result was that Quinn was famous and sought after. Everyone wanted to know him or know something about him.

  The merfolk had immense power. They controlled the ocean and all that was in it and they had access to vast trading networks and resources.

  The upshot of my explorations was that I became fascinated along with everyone else. Quinn had been in line to become the mayor when the explosion happened. He was beloved. Women lined up their daughters to marry him. There was a lot of opportunity there, or so they thought, assuming that his merman powers, handed on to offspring, could generate an entirely new type of paranormal. Residents of Twinkleford were delighted and hopeful.

  All of that had come crashing down when the explosion hit, inspiring Quinn to change course and become the sheriff.

  I had found out a lot about Quinn’s own history from the reading I’d been doing.

  Merfolk did not approve of dating, marrying, or fraternizing with non-merfolk. They were a complicated bunch, I was reliably informed by a very old and dusty book. Given that they were confined to the sea, they had very strict rules on “fraternization.”

  The only slip-up had occurred thirty-two years ago. Crown Princess Jessica had met a man she adored. He was a ship’s captain and a rascal, but he loved her. She visited him one night when his ship was docked at an island. After that she returned to the sea and he was left devastated.

  The only antidote for a broken heart, according to his ship’s crew, was to get him out on the water, so the next thing he did was to spend long months sailing the ocean waves.

  Nine months later he was still sailing. He had returned to his rascal ways, but he never forgot the beautiful woman he’d spent the night with.

  One day, still far out at sea, he saw something bobbing in the water. The object turned out to be a bassinet. Overcome with shock and awe, he almost passed it by, but his first mate insisted on retrieving it.

  In it was a boy. He had the same stunning hazel eyes as his father. Neither father nor son ever saw the mermaid princess again.

  Quinn was the only known living half merman. He did not have a fin. He could, however, swim underwater for as long as he liked. He could also con
trol water if he very much wanted to, but only if he was close to it. He was also very strong. He could swim for days, and his arm muscles were evidence of that.

  He had been raised at sea with his father. Part of him always longed to meet his mother, but he knew that was not to be. Entire books had been written about him. Nobody could believe that the Crown Princess of the merfolk had defied her family and had a son with a human father.

  The paranormals were far less impressed by the whole thing. Quinn didn’t have gills and didn’t look like a merman. If people couldn’t see it, then they didn’t believe it. As far as they were concerned, he was a normal boy, just one who won every swimming race he ever entered.

  Some people hoped that this hybrid boy could be used as a way to bridge relations with the merfolk, but that was also not to be. In fact, it soon became clear that his existence made everything worse.

  The merfolk were terribly angry that he existed at all. He represented a great betrayal of their family and customs and way of life. If it could happen once, they worried, it could happen again.

  Spending half your life shunned by the people you were related to was never easy. I imagined it had been especially difficult if the young boy had wanted to get to know his mother, and also knew he never could.

  Somehow, finding out so much about Quinn’s background made me feel better about everything. The information could only help me in the long run, right?

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The next morning I made myself a breakfast of dried fruit on yogurt, with some oats thrown in for good measure. I had even poured a bit of maple syrup over the top of it all. I was minding my own business, reading an article in the newspaper about how crystals were sourced, an article that actually gave nothing away, when Lowe came in wringing her hands. Her face was so pale it worried me.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “I wondered if I should start packing. I have an old collection of records, rainbow bracelets, and hair products, not to mention everything else. If we’re forced out of this house, I don’t want to leave packing until the last minute.”