Weava the Wilful Witch (2 page)

That night, Weava sat on her broomstick above the city. Lights twinkled through the streets.

Her sister lived somewhere down below. Weava pulled her wand out of her stocking. ‘Find Merry,' she said, and used her witchsight. She closed her eyes, waved the wand and pointed it downwards.

When she opened her eyes again, her gaze was drawn to a tall block of flats.

‘Here I come!' she whooped, and swooped in to land.

The sign on the block said
Brimstone Buildings.

Weava tucked her broom under her arm and walked through the front door of the building. Still using witchsight, she climbed the stairs to Number 13. The door to the flat was open, so she walked straight in.

Her sister sat at the table, pasting pink labels on pink bottles and stacking them in a long box. Instead of her usual robes, she was wearing a dress with a full skirt and deep pockets.

‘Merry!' yelled Weava, and dropped her broom. She raced towards her big
sister and squeezed her in a bear hug.

Merry's eyes bulged. ‘What—what are
you
doing here?' she asked.

‘I've come to stay with you. I've got lots to tell——
ub-oof
!' Weava sneezed. She screwed up her nose. ‘Merry, what's that horrible smell?'

‘I don't know what you mean,' said Merry in an odd high-pitched voice.

Weava sniffed. ‘It's
those.'
She pointed to the pink bottles.

‘That's Candywaft perfume,' said Merry. ‘It comes in three scents: Meadow Breeze, Mountain Spring and Forest Bloom.'

Weava sneezed again. ‘It's awful,' she said, dabbing her eyes with her cloak. ‘I suppose it's something you magicked up to play tricks on humans!'

Merry's face went a funny colour.
‘Weava…It's cool to see you, but it's really late at night for a visit. Is Dad coming to pick you up soon?'

‘No,' said Weava. ‘He's at Witchmeet. Let's put that stinky stuff outside.' She waved her wand and sang a little spell.

The box of bottles sailed through the air and disappeared out the front door.

Weava sniffed. ‘That's better.'

‘Weava,
no
!' cried Merry. ‘You mustn't do silly tricks here!'

‘It's only a shift-spell. Merry, look what I've got for you!' Weava reached inside her cloak and drew out a jar of black-magic jam and Merry's old wand. She put the jam on the table and held out the wand to her sister.

Merry took the wand and dropped it on the table. ‘I don't want that.'

‘But you could use it as a spare.
I thought I'd lost mine earlier and——'

‘I don't need a spare wand. I don't need one at all. I got rid of my other one,' said Merry loudly. She put the wand in a drawer under a table in the lounge room.

‘But,
Merry
! You've got to have a wand! You're a witch.'

Merry bit her lip. ‘Listen, Weava. You are not to talk about witches or spells or brooms or wands around here. It makes you sound crazy.'

‘Huh?' said Weava.

‘It's nonsense,' said Merry. ‘Can't you see that? I know Dad likes to play at magic, but it's silly and dangerous.' She chewed a fingernail. ‘That's why I left stupid Wand College. I didn't belong there. I'm
much
happier in the city. I have this flat, and a job, selling Candywaft perfume. I even have human friends.'

‘But——'

‘I'm living in the real world,' said Merry. ‘Not some silly magic game.'

‘Magic isn't silly,' said Weava. ‘I'm going to a school for bad fairies soon.'

‘You're going
where?
' said Merry.

‘It's called Hags' Abademy of Badness,' said Weava. ‘I'm waiting for my invitation.'

‘Don't be ridiculous!' said Merry. ‘Of
course
you're not going to a school for bad
fairies.' The clock struck eleven and Merry jumped. ‘Oh dear, it's
so
late,' she said. ‘I have to be at work early tomorrow. It's time you went home.'

‘But I'm not going home,' said Weava. ‘I'm staying with you.'

Merry started to protest. But then she stopped and stared at Weava. ‘OK,' she said. ‘You can stay. I'll arrange everything.'

‘Arrange what?' asked Weava, puzzled.

‘Everything,' said Merry. ‘But now it's bedtime.'

She led the way into a tiny spare bedroom and closed the curtains, shutting out the night.

Then she gave Weava a hug, and said, ‘Goodnight, Weava. It's lovely to see you again, in spite of everything.' She went out, closing the door behind her.

Weava took off her cloak and hat, and put them in a pile with her shoes. Then she climbed into bed in her purple petticoat, and slipped her wand under her pillow. She had an odd, empty feeling in her tummy and it wasn't just because she hadn't had any supper.

Weava lay in bed, worrying about Merry.

Why was Merry trying to live like a human? What was she doing, selling that silly smelly perfume?

Sighing, Weava rolled over. Eventually, she went to sleep.

A little later, she woke with a start. Something was scratching on the window.

Weava got out of bed and opened the curtains, but all she saw was her own reflection.

She opened the window and something sprang into the room. The thing landed on her pillow and gave itself a few licks. It looked like a small black kitten, about the size of Weava's hand. It had furry wings and silver claws to match its eyes.

‘Do you know what
I
am, witchling?' the thing said.

‘You're a critter-fae,' said Weava.

‘Correct. I am the kit-fae. I'm the only one of my kind,' the creature said. ‘The hags sent me to Witchmeet to find you, but you never turned up.' It sniffed. ‘I had to use critter-fae-sight to find you. What are you doing here?'

‘I came to see my sister, Merry,' said
Weava. ‘But she's changed. She's stopped doing magic.' A tear trickled down her cheek.

‘This might cheer you up!' said the kit-fae. From somewhere in its fur it produced a piece of parchment.

Weava stared. ‘Is that my invitation?' She wiped her eyes on her petticoat.
‘Oooh
!
You mean I'm going to the Abademy?' She danced around the room in glee.

‘Not so fast,' said the kit-fae. ‘You haven't earned a place there, yet. Read the invitation.'

Weava took the invitation and read the words aloud.
‘Are
you
a
wilful witch?
Do you relish being
truly troublesome, dreadfully disobedient
and
mindbogglingly bad?
Answer Yes or No.
'

Weava beamed at the kit-fae. ‘Yes!' she said.

More lines appeared.
‘If you answered Yes, you may earn a Badge of Badness and attend the Hags' Abademy for further badness training.
' Weava danced around the room again.

‘Keep reading,' said the kit-fae.

‘
To qualify for your badge, you must create and perform a new and original act
of breathtaking badness. Answer I Will or I Won't,'
Weava read. ‘I will!' she said.

More words appeared, and Weava read them out.
‘You have made a wise decision. The kit-fae will guide you.'

Weava twirled around in her petticoat. ‘I have an invitation to apply for a Badge of Badness!' she whispered. ‘I'm going to the Abademy!'

The kit-fae twitched its fluffy black tail. ‘It sounds as though your sister will try to stop you,' it said. ‘That will make your task much more difficult. Are you up to it?'

‘I hope so,' said Weava.

‘Not good enough,' said the kit-fae. ‘Bad fairies have to be strong and certain.'

‘I
can
do it,' said Weava. Then she sighed. ‘I wish Merry was on my side. She used to be so much fun.'

‘Witches who turn their backs on magic can never be truly happy,' warned the kit-fae.

‘But I
want
Merry to be happy,' said Weava. She lifted her chin. ‘I know! Changing Merry back to her proper self can be part of my big bad deed! I'll do something
so
bad she'll
have
to cast a spell to put things right. That will remind her she's a witch, once and for all.'

Early the next morning, Merry tapped on Weava's bedroom door. ‘Good morning!' she trilled.

‘Stop
trilling,'
said Weava. ‘It makes you sound like a good fairy.'

Merry smiled. ‘Up you get! I've cancelled work today so I can keep an eye on you. And guess what? A girl called Jemima lives in the flat next door to us.
I'm sure the two of you will be friends.'

‘Is she a human?' asked Weava.

‘What else could she be?'

‘Fairy-breed,' said Weava. ‘Like you, and me.'

‘Don't be silly,' said Merry. ‘Fairy breed are banned from the flat. We're both living like humans now.' She left the room.

Weava got out of bed. ‘Where are my clothes?' she said.

‘Your sister stole them,' said the kit-fae. It crawled out of the blankets. ‘She wants you to wear human clothes.'

It nodded towards a pair of shorts and a T-shirt where Weava's things had been. ‘She's got a plan to make you live like her.'

‘I've got a plan, too!' said Weava. She grabbed her wand from under her pillow and marched into the lounge room, still
wearing her petticoat. ‘Give me my clothes,' she said to Merry.

‘You're too old for playing dress-ups,' said Merry. ‘Have some toast.'

Weava held out her hand. ‘I want my clothes.'

‘I put some proper clothes out for you.'

Weava waved her wand and chanted a truth-tell-spell.

Merry flinched as the spell hit her in the face.

‘Where are my clothes?' Weava asked again.

‘I packed them up to give to my neighbour, Mrs James, for her costume parties——' Merry clapped her hand over her mouth.

Weava cast a come-to-me-spell. Her clothes flew out of a box by the door and landed on the table.

Merry's phone rang. She walked over and picked it up. ‘Mary Charm speaking,' she said. ‘Today? But I thought…' She paused, and listened to the person speaking on the other end. ‘OK. I'll bring the Candywaft perfume delivery now,' she said, and hung up.

Weava put on her old clothes. ‘I'm wearing these,' she said.

Her sister threw up her hands. ‘All
right
! I haven't got time to argue. I have to go to work after all.'

Weava noticed the box of pink bottles was back on the table.

‘I'll come back at lunchtime,' said Merry. ‘I can't force you to stay in the flat——'

‘Yes, you can,' said Weava. ‘Just pick up your wand and cast a stick-tight-spell at me.'

Merry went pink. She strode over to Weava and snatched the wand out of her hand. Then she stuffed it into one of her dress pockets and headed for the door. Weava was about to yell at her, when she saw the kit-fae flitting behind her sister. It seized Weava's wand from Merry's pocket without her noticing. Then it darted back to Weava's bedroom.

‘Oh, I almost forgot!' said Merry. She turned back and went to the lounge-room table. She pulled out a drawer and removed the wand she had put there last night. This she stuffed into her other skirt pocket.

She hoisted the box of perfume and staggered out the door. ‘Stay here!' she yelled over her shoulder.

‘Huh,' said Weava. ‘A fly-me-spell would be much easier. The box would float next to her while she walked.'

‘Very silly,' agreed the kit-fae. Now Merry had gone, it slunk out of Weava's bedroom, gripping Weava's wand in its mouth. It spat it out onto the table, and sneezed.

Weava helped herself to a slice of toast. Now, where had Merry put that jar of black-magic jam? She cast a spell and found the jar in the kitchen
rubbish bin. Merry had thrown it away.

Weava was insulted. ‘I made that!' she said.

‘Your sister has human friends,' said the kit-fae. It giggled. ‘Do you know what happens when humans eat witch food? They love it so much, they eat until they get tummy aches.'

Weava grinned. ‘Right!' she said. ‘I'll make a black-magic jam cake and give some to that human girl Merry wants me to play with. That can be the beginning of my bad deed. Merry will
have
to do a spell to fix the girl's tummy ache.'

Weava found the ingredients for a cake in the pantry. She dumped flour in a basin and used her wand to beat it up with eggs and milk.

The kit-fae perched on the edge of the basin and purred happily.

Weava tipped the jam into the cake batter, mixed it well and poured it into a cake tin. Then she put the cake in the oven.

Two hours later, the cake, gleaming and purple as a blackberry, sat like a toad on Merry's best dainty plate.

Weava was admiring it when she heard Merry coming upstairs.

‘Yoo-hoo
! It's me!' called Merry.

The kit-fae swished its tail. ‘I will not be
yoo-hooed
at,' it said. It flitted into Weava's bedroom.

Merry poked her head into the kitchen.
‘Yoo-hoo!'
she said again.

‘You sound like an owl,' said Weava.

Merry goggled at the cake. ‘What is
that?
'

‘You know what it is,' said Weava. ‘It's a black-magic cake.'

Merry frowned. She put her hand in her dress pocket, but Weava's wand was no longer there. ‘How did you get your wand back?'

‘My friend took it,' said Weava. ‘Didn't you, kit-fae?'

The fetch flew through back into the kitchen. ‘Indeed I did,' it said.

‘Weava!' said Merry. ‘I said no fairy breed in my flat! Don't break rules!'

‘You did when you were my age.'

‘Yes,' said Merry. ‘And look what happened! Dad sent me to that stupid college and…' She trailed off. Then she shook her head, as if to clear it, and put her hand on Weava's shoulder. ‘But everything is better now. And guess what? You can live with me from now on. Won't that be lovely? I'll send you to school and——'

‘Oh, that's all arranged,' said Weava. ‘My invitation to the Abademy came last night.'

‘You're not going to the Abademy!' said Merry. She looked at the cake again. ‘Get rid of this,' she said.

Weava cut a slice of the cake and put it in her mouth.
‘Mmmmm.
It's scrumptious! Have some, Merry.' She cut another slice and pushed it at her sister.

Merry shook her head.

Weava licked her fingers. ‘I'll share it with that Jemima girl from next door. She'll love it.'

‘You can't!' gasped Merry. ‘It'll make her sick. What would I say to her mother?'

‘It doesn't make
me
sick,' said Weava. ‘It's a wandiful cake.'

‘Yes, but you're a w——' Merry closed her mouth. ‘You're not giving Jemima that cake!' She grabbed the plate, tipped the cake into the sink and turned on the waste disposal. ‘Go to your room, Weava!' she yelled above the noise.

Weava did as she was told. Frowning, she sat down on the bed.

What would it take to make Merry angry enough to cast a spell?