Spelled

“Hey, tha rhymed. Thaz funny.” I broke into a fit of giggles again. “Wait, you can talk?”


I stumbled back into the kitchen, wanting to share my new discovery with Black Crow since she seemed so interested in chimeras. I only made it a few steps before my feet fell off—or at least, I couldn’t feel them anymore.

Ah well, the floor seemed like as good a place as any to take a nap—just ask Rexi.

Black Crow was still on her spellphone, so she didn’t notice me. She probably wouldn’t mind, I thought as I yawned and closed my eyes.

While I drifted off, my ears still worked. My brain couldn’t make much sense of it though.

“You can have the girls. All I ask is to keep the chimera.”

Thunder rumbled in the background, and a voice spoke that reminded me of broken glass.

“Done.”





“Rule #32: If you find yourself at the mercy of a wicked witch, sing a romantic ballad and wait for your prince charming to save the day.”

—Definitive Fairy-Tale Survival Guide, Volume 1





13


Someday My Witch Will Come


I woke up in a strange bed with a pounding headache. Ugh. Where was I, and who the spell had been using my head as a bongo?

There was a really nasty taste in the back of my throat. A little drool came out of the corner of my mouth and dropped onto a needlepoint pillow that said, “As the Crow Flies.” I went to wipe the spittle from my cheek, but my hand wasn’t cooperating. That’s because it was tied to my other hand behind my back. A quick kick proved my ankles were tied too.

I looked around the room for an explanation—like maybe there was an ocean of alligators on the floor and Black Crow was worried that I’d fall out of bed if I weren’t restrained.

Yeah right.

Didn’t see any alligators, just ugly pink floral carpeting. The whole room was decorated with girly pink and white furniture, and every square inch of it was covered in knickknacks and trophies—science fair awards, spelling bees, an Achievement in Alchemy crystal. Clearly, Black Crow was a bit of a brain. The walls were mostly bare, but I did see a nice plaque on the closest one: Hex Salesman of the Year. And under it was a picture of Black Crow shaking hands and accepting the plaque from none other than Griz, the Gray Witch.

“Bedknobs and broomsticks. That pixing Bumpkin and his Grimm-glammed queen set me up.” I kicked the metal post with a clang of frustration at being so naive.

I tried to calm myself down. Maybe I was wrong. Perhaps it was an honest mistake and the Bumpkins had really been trying to help. Then I remembered the look of knowing and retribution that Moony had given me—and how easily the queen had given me directions, even though I was trying to squish her children. What were her words again? Black Crow will take care of you.

Yep, she was sure taking care of me all right.

“How could I be so stupid? She probably pixie dusted the pie.”

I thrashed around on the bed to get myself up.

“Shhhh.”

Now what? The shushing came from the sitting room off to the side of the bedroom. Trying to get a peek proved a little harder than I thought, considering I was trussed up like a solstice day game hen.

Kato looked so calm, sitting there all nice and comfy next to a glass armoire filled with potions. A large, plush pet bed lay next to his clawed feet. Where were his manacles? If Black Crow left him free, she must have thought she could trust him. I couldn’t help but notice he had a new fashion accessory—a hot-pink rhinestone collar.

“Traitor,” I spat in disgust. “I was beginning to think that maybe you weren’t so bad. But no, she feeds you and now you’re her pet?”

Kato huffed and repositioned himself. “Can you for once go beyond the obvious? Look…” He used his tail to bat one of the yarn balls that Crow had so thoughtfully provided for him. It flew toward me and hit an unseen barrier. Vaporized on contact.

Huh. So he was a prisoner just like me.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “But what was I supposed to think?” I hated being wrong—and yet lately, it happened so often. “In my defense, you are wearing a very nice collar with a medal hanging down.” Hopefully it said something stupid, like Fluffy or Spot. Would serve him right for taking on such a superior tone of voice with me again.

Wait a minute.

I raised myself up as high as I could to take a good look at Kato. “You talked just now. Am I still dusted?”

“Yes, so go back to sleep.” His voice had a deep, gruff quality, but even as an animal, he sounded condescending.

I liked him better when he couldn’t talk.

Betsy Schow's books