“I am not letting it slide,” I said, aggravated. “I did badly on my test but I went in to study with Kelvin. But I had to leave studying with Kelvin because of your demon problem, and that’s when Rourke got cranky enough to call you. He’ll never let me make up the test now.”
“Why didn’t you just leave a doppelg?nger to sit with this Kelvin person while you did the important things? I know you know the doppelg?nger spell. You helped gather the ingredients when I used it to avoid that dreadful neighborhood block party. Five werewolf hairs, easily collected from Wulfie. One pint of cream. One huff of dog’s breath. Two—”
Her list infuriated me. The witch could get under my skin faster than anybody in the world. “For your information, you have to be a witch to perform that spell. And are you seriously saying that my solution to algebra is to skip out on the tutor? What kind of crazy person are you? You don’t care two cents what happens to my grades, as long as I gather your ingredients and keep track of your demons.”
“I merely pointed out the way to keep this Rourke character from being angry at you,” said the witch. The October wind whisked around us. “As I judge your developing character, you are determined to keep your grades up whether or not you have my support. Thus I save my energy for making you realize that there are other things in life besides human schooling.” She frowned. “As for your chores, I don’t understand your position. I give you all the best tasks and take the mundane ones of cooking and dishwashing myself. Do you know that my mother used to have me scrub out the bathtubs? Like a regular human? With a sponge?”
Sarmine on a rant about her mother could go on for ages. I interrupted this digression. “So you think other things in life are more important,” I said. “Like what, settling scores against old enemies? How does causing chaos at school—my school—give you the moral high ground? Just so you know, your tasks are wreaking havoc on Devon. I have half a mind to thwart the demon by stopping him from completing his tasks.”
“You have half a mind, period,” said the witch. “A transfigured phoenix is still a phoenix.”
The wind sent a chill down my spine. “You mean it’s still going to burst into fire?”
“It will explode on Halloween,” said the witch, “whether we’ve found where Kari hid it or not. Uncontained phoenix fire will disintegrate your entire school and anyone unlucky enough to be inside the building at the time. I suggest you and your delicate little morals consider that.” She pulled a small packet of dried pepper from her fanny pack and sprinkled it over one of my pumpkins. The wind tickled my nose, along with the pepper dust. I knew I was supposed to ask the witch what spell she was creating, so she could impart some sort of “valuable” lesson about the properties of dried pepper or whatever.
“I have a dragon to tend to,” I said coldly. I pushed past the witch and stalked toward the garage.
“At least I’m doing something with my life,” said the witch from behind me. “You should’ve seen me at your age. Able to work complicated spells, already creating new ones. Causing chaos from here to the Pacific Ocean.”
“I’m so happy for you.”
“And my sister Belarize was even faster. When she was eight and I was four she decided she was sick of being ousted as the youngest. She planted a monster under my bed that almost took my foot clean off. Mother refused to believe my sister had done it. She had a blind spot about Belarize’s lack of morals. You don’t turn on your family.” Sarmine harrumphed at the memory, then rounded on me, throwing up her hands. “I just don’t know how to get past your blind spot, Camellia! I give you spells, you reject them. I show you counterspells, you don’t even try. Your attitude toward witchery keeps me up at night. Don’t you know what happens to weak witches? Don’t you understand how cruel the witch world is?”
“I’m not a witch!” I turned and shouted. “Why does everyone keep saying I am? I’m not like you. I’m not like the horrible way you behave. Nothing at all. I’m not!”
“You stubborn, blind—” Sarmine breathed out. Her face calmed. All cold and stoic it got, and her hands were steel on her wand. “There’s going to be a punishment for this … for this algebra mess.” It seemed like she’d wanted to say something else, but no. Only mean-just-because Sarmine would say in the same breath that algebra was useless and then punish me for it. “Not for failing your test, but for putting me in the annoying position of having to talk to this Rourke character.”
“No!” I shouted, stomping through the grass, bearing down on her. “I’m sick of your punishments. You have no right—”
“Half an hour mummified by the pumpkin plants ought to do it,” she said.
She plucked one hair from my head, and while I said, “Ouch, what the hell?” she doused it with a spray bottle from her fanny pack, dropped it on the peppered and god-knows-what-else pumpkin, and tapped it with her dragon-milk wand.