‘Those old Star Trek films,’ said Granny Annie, ‘always refer to humans as "carbon-based life forms". So they were right. And witches have found a way to loosen the bonds of the earth. That could be how them things work. Earth is carbon, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, mostly. Now we just need to find a way to heat the witch repellents from a safe distance. I wonder...’
‘Do you have an idea, Emily?’
‘It wouldn’t work.’
‘What is it?’
‘I was thinking about hairdryers. They blow out heat, but it wouldn’t be strong enough. And they need electricity.’
‘Not to worry. We can put a multiplication spell on a hairdryer to make it stronger. And electricity isn’t a problem. Remember our car? We can put a little bit of magic in them to make them work anywhere.’
‘Fantastic!’ cried Emily. ‘Now, where are your hairdryers?’
Granny Annie and the other witches stared at her blankly.
‘Witches don’t have hairdryers, Emily,’ said Granny Annie. ‘We wash our hair only with rain water and we let it dry naturally. Now that I think about it, the All-Seeing Eye has a hairdryer. She takes her appearance far too seriously, we think.’
‘So can we get a loan of hers?’ asked Emily.
‘I don’t see why not. You keep working on your research and I’ll ask her. She’s still flaked out in the front room. Granny Smith will make some hang sangwiches to keep us going.’
The All-Seeing Eye, still faint and swooning, gave Granny Annie the passwords, access spells and keys to her house and Annie went off like the clappers to fetch her hairdryer. Meanwhile, Emily kept searching the Witches’ World Wide Web for information. She discovered that they would need only to neutralise two of the witch repellents to get through the cordon, because they had a limited range of just a few metres.
Farmer Blue turned up with his friends, each with a rifle and dog, mainly cocker spaniels, all eager to help. They ate ham sandwiches and gulped mugs of hot, thick tea while they waited for action. It was ten to nine in the morning.
‘I have it!’ cried Granny Annie, bursting through the door with the hairdryer in her hand.
‘Let’s magic it,’ said Granny Smith.
They placed the hairdryer on the talking table and all the witches gathered round. Concentrating hard, they combined their powers to put the best multiplication spell and the strongest self-powering spell possible on the little device.
‘So what’s the plan?’ asked Emily.
Everybody looked at her blankly. Then she knew it was up to her to come up with the plan.
‘Okay,’ she began, ‘we approach from beside the lake, that’s where he’ll least expect us. We neutralise the witch repellents and the men with the guns surround the huts. Then I’ll go in and confront him and order him to free the boys.’
‘Oh, Emily. Are you sure?’ asked Granny Smith.
‘It’s the only way, granny. Besides, I won’t be on my own, will I?’
‘No, you won’t,’ came the chorus of voices.
So they set off for the mine and the lake. Some of the witches flew on their broomsticks, some drove. The men travelled in Landrovers, their dogs yelping all the way. Emily went in the station wagon with her two grannies, both as pleased as punch with their granddaughter’s bravery.
Everybody gathered beside the lake, just as the evil schoolmaster’s first lesson of the day began. He always started with double maths. It was a pleasant morning with a clear, blue sky and barely a breeze. Emily held the magicked hairdryer tightly and, at a nod from Granny Annie, aimed it at the nearest witch repellent. She switched it on and, after a few seconds, black smoke rose from the tree stub. Then she went to the next device and incinerated that too.
The men and their dogs moved forward and took up positions around the cluster of wooden huts beside the black lake. Emily and the witches calmly walked up to the hut which had grey smoke coming from its chimney, assuming that was where the boys were being held. Emily walked up the wooden stairs and knocked on the door, rat-atat-tat. After a few seconds, the evil schoolmaster himself opened the door and stepped out. He sniffed the air, looked around cautiously, then jumped back inside, slamming the door shut behind him. Emily looked back at the witches, hiding in the shadows, and shrugged her shoulders. Granny Smith made a Go on motion, so Emily knocked again.
Again, he opened the door, but this time he made to grab Emily, thinking he had another prisoner for his evil classroom. But Farmer Blue aimed his rifle and shot the evil schoolmaster in his shoulder. He fell backwards onto the floor, roaring in pain. Emily pushed past him into the smelly, dark hut as the rest of the witches and hunters rushed forward.
‘Malcolm! Are you alright?’ He looked pathetic, chained to his desk and pale with hunger.
‘I’m okay,’ he replied feebly.
Emily looked around and saw Roger and the other boys, each chained, each looking pale and sick, but with their eyes lighting up with joy. Farmer Blue came in behind her and put his foot on the evil schoolmaster’s chest, his rifle aimed at Seamus’###ór’s shocked face.
The children were released and brought into the village for a slap-up feed of roast be, roast potatoes, peas and gravy, with strawberry mousse and ice cream for dessert, plus as many sweets from Mrs Reilly’s shop as they could carry. In the end, they were all fine. The evil schoolmaster ended up in a mental hospital, where he could do no more harm. Anyway, the witches are keeping a good eye on him.
And as for Emily and Roger, they went home, back to the big city. And even though their new home was huge, with a massive garden, a treehouse and a jacuzzi, they constantly pestered their mum and dad for another holiday with their grannies. And let’s just say that Emily, with her magic spells, never had to do her homework again. Never ever.
Emily found that she had more time for Malcolm. They argued less. And their mum and dad seemed happier, kissing each other all the time. Yuk! And so they all lived happily.
Chapter 27: WHAT HAPPENED TO EDNA
The day before Emily and Malcolm arrived in Castleconnell, Edna was busy in her kitchen. She was working on a surprise for the rest of the witches, a new spell and potion.
‘My word,’ she said to her black and white cat, Speckles. ‘The girls are going to love this. If I can get the mixture right, just one teaspoon and a magic word and I’ll be no bigger than a mouse.’
Speckles watched with curiosity as Edna gathered the potion ingredients. There was frogspawn in a jam jar, lemonade, some bark from a yew tree, bat whiskers, spearmint mouthwash, some leaves and, finally, salt and pepper for seasoning. She put everything into her little cauldron, a special pot over a gas flame, just perfect for potions. She stirred the mixture for hours, taking a sip here and a sip there, until she was happy with it. As night fell, and Emily and Malcolm’s train neared the village, Edna uttered the magic word and took a spoon of potion.
‘Microscopia,’ said Edna.
‘Meow,’ said Speckles, alarmed at the sparks that began to fly from Edna’s head and body.
The sparks flashed across the kitchen and Edna began to change. Her cat hid behind a huge African mask as Edna started to shrink. Smaller and smaller she became. When she was no bigger than your hand, the shrinking stopped. Speckles began to eye her with new interest. His little cat brain was confused. His owner had disappeared and what was this? A new kind of mouse?
Edna noticed that her cat was in a crouch, his stalking position. With a tiny gulp, Edna realised the danger. She tried to shout at her cat, but her voice was so tiny. She looked for somewhere to hide and decided to run to a mouse hole in the skirting board. Just then, the sparks began to fly from her again and she faded in seconds to the size of a pinhead.
‘Must have been because I was tasting the potion so much,’ she said to herself, in a squeaky voice that couldn’t even be heard by an owl.
Speckles searched all over the kitchen for her but, luckily, Edna was too small to be seen. Her fear now was that she w
ould be crushed under Speckles’s huge, clawed feet. She decided to stay away from the mouse hole and searched for a way to let the other witches know what had happened to her. She tut-tutted to herself when she realised that she hadn’t told the others that she was trying a new spell. That was a witch rule, in case something went wrong, like when ordinary people go swimming or climbing mountains.
Then Granny Smith called by to see how she was getting on. She looked all around the house for Edna, calling her name. Edna jumped and waved and screamed, but Granny Smith couldn’t see or hear her. So she left the house, very worried, and reported Edna’s mysterious disappearance to the others.
As the whole adventure with the Evil Schoolmaster unfolded, Edna spent her days making a message out of tiny specks of dirt and dust she found on the floor. After much work, she spelt out the word TINY, in letters three centimetres high.
She worried that her message might be too small to be seen or that a draught might blow it away. Suddenly, tiny sparks began to jump from her hands. In an instant, a cloud of sparks filled the kitchen and Edna was back to her normal size. With a grateful sigh, she put the remaining potion away on a high shelf and fed Speckles. Then she went to tell the witches what had happened, vowing to be more thoughtful towards mice and bugs and bats and all the other tiny creatures.
EPILOGUE
Six months after all the excitement, Emily lay in her bed, wide awake and restless at two in the morning.
She’d gone through the whole running down the beach and finding Johnny Depp washed up, just lying there, fantasy. More than once. He’d look up at her with those dreamy eyes and say ‘Shouldn’t you be asleep?’
She’d tried the singing inside her head thing, couldn’t come up with any reasonable explanation as to why she couldn’t fly over the rainbow.
So that didn’t work either. Then she rose and stood at the window, watched the clouds skipping across the moon, the night birds floating on the warm air.
‘Night birds?’ she said. ‘Haven’t seen those since...’
Something else crossed the moon’s silvery face. Something totally weird but utterly familiar.
In seconds, two friendly faces were at the window, their hands gesturing at her to let them in.
‘Grannies,’ cried Emily, hugging them in turn. ‘I’ve missed you both. More than I would have thought possible. Thanks for coming to visit.’
‘Afraid this isn’t a social call, dearie,’ said Granny Smith, her smile quickly fading..
‘Not at all,’ said Granny Annie as she pulled a small doll from her cloak pocket. The doll was dressed like a witch, a serious-looking face, black shawl, broomstick in hand. Odd.
‘There’s a soulcatcher about,’ said Granny Smith.
Emily said ‘What’s a soulcatcher?’
This didn’t sound good.
‘It’s not good,’ said Granny Smith. ‘She’s a restless spirit, goes around the place collecting the souls of witches.’
‘That’s awful,’ said Emily. ‘Why would she want to do that?’
‘That’s something we have to find out. And find out fast.’
Emily looked out at the moon again. She felt a flight coming on.
‘Do you need my help?’ she asked hopefully.
‘Yes,’ said Granny Annie.
‘More than that,’ said Granny Smith.
Emily looked at them both, held her palms upright, to say And?
‘We’re so sorry, darling,’ said her grannies together. They looked at each other and continued. ‘She’s looking for you now.’
‘Me?’ gulped Emily, the colour draining from her, the fun suddenly gone from the whole bizarre situation.
‘This doll,’ said Granny Annie. ‘It’s supposed to represent you. We found it in her lair. She has a kind of shrine to you there.’
‘Crikey.’
‘It gets worse. Edna’s gone missing. We checked her house in case she went and shrunk herself again. Nothing. We think her soul’s been captured.’
Emily straightened her back, clenched her fists.
‘I don’t like the sound of this soulcatcher at all, at all,’ she said. ‘Let’s go.’
Granny Annie said ‘That’s the girl.’
Granny Smith said ‘You’re a legend.’
And off they flew.
THE END (For now!)
###
Witch Grannies will return in The Case of the Lonely Banshee.
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