Diary of Anna the Girl Witch 1: Foundling Witch (12 page)

“That’s an odd name. Is she really a queen?”

Nod.

“Does that make me a princess?”

Nod.

Wow. I guessed that explained the trust fund. But why would a princess have to be hidden in a bear den in the wilds of Siberia? My mother was trying to save me from something, but what? Then a terrible thought seeped into my mind.

“Does my grandmother use dark magic? Has the shadow taken her over?”

Squire nodded solemnly.

That was a lot to think about, but none of it helped me get out of Irvigne Manor or free the other kids.

Or did it? I thought back to my mother’s secretive letter and the picture she had included with it. That strange house on legs with the old woman riding in a bowl. No, not riding – she was flying!

“Squire, that picture with my mother’s letter, was that the Iron Queen? Was that my grandmother?”

Nod.

“And how did she fly in that bowl? I thought witches use brooms.”

“Iron Queen rides in her enchanted mortar, carrying her pestle like a club.”

“Why would she use a mortar and pestle?” Weren’t those things used to grind nuts and herbs in the kitchen?

“Because that is what she had on hand the first time she needed to fly.”

Oh. Well, that made sense: She had made do with what she had. I wondered what emergency had caused my grandmother to suddenly need to fly with nothing but a mortar and pestle. It sounded much like my present problem.

I looked around the room with new interest. There had to be something here that I could use to escape. I just had to use a little bit of ingenuity. And magic, of course.

D
ear Diary
,

I’m writing this on a scrap of paper with a pencil stub because I am far away from my comfy room at the Collège. Far away in body and spirit. By now, my friends must think I’m dead, and what is even worse, they may believe that I murdered Mei.

No, I can’t think that. Some may believe it, but my real friends won’t. I have to take heart. For now, I need to put aside my own problems and find a way to save those poor children in the dungeon. I’m sure that Gaëlle must be locked in the cell next to Mei by now. André and Marie won’t be taking any chances, not when they are so close to completing their evil scheme.

As the sun sets, filling my prison with shadows, a deep sadness overwhelms me. Why do people have to be bad? Why can’t the world be filled with happiness? I remember the darkness that took hold of me when I blasted André’s handkerchief. It was too easy. Darkness and evil are easy. Happiness takes work. Perhaps most people don’t have the will or the energy to keep the shadows away. I’m starting to hope that I’ll fight them with every fiber of my being until my last breath… if I have enough strength.

That’s always a huge “if.”

Isn’t it, Diary?

T
he day went
by too quickly. I had expected that being trapped in a tower would be boring, but I knew I had only a few hours before Victor arrived and took his Nine away to some horrible fate.

I spent the time going through everything in my small prison, looking for any weapon, tool, or bit of information that could help me escape. I searched every nook and cranny and flipped through every moldy book.

Around noon, Ouellette opened the door, put a tray of food on the floor, and shoved it with his toe.

“
Bon appétit
,” he said with a smirk.

The tray held a small bowl of porridge, a pitcher of water – no cup or glass – and a withered apple. Quite different from the extravagant buffet that Marie had laid out for the party last week.

Last week? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

I sighed and forced myself to eat the cold porridge. I wasn’t hungry, but I would need the energy later on.

By sunset, I had laid out an assortment of things on the crooked desk: A needle, a spool of red thread, a letter opener, three twist ties, a handful of thumbtacks, a zippered plastic bag, a fork, two pencils, and a stack of paper.

Not much to work with.

I stared at this collection of random objects, and a plan started to come together in my head. It wasn’t a great plan. In fact, some might call it crazy. Too many things could go wrong. But my other choice was to wait for Victor – the Black Horseman – and see where he would take us all. That seemed like the crazier choice.

I scribbled a note to Jean-Sébastien on a scrap of paper, hoping he would be able to convince others of the truth. Ouellette didn’t know that Jean had been with me in the dungeon. I had managed to keep him out of my story at the police station. Hopefully, the former constable hadn’t thought to question anyone else at the Collège or orphanage.

I gave the paper to Squire.

“You need to bring this to my friend, Jean-Sébastien. Do you remember him?”

Nod.

“Good. Let’s get this window open. Then take it to him as fast as you can.”

The window was nailed shut, but we used the letter opener to pry out the rusted nails. The poor opener got pretty much shredded in the process. Grinning, I watched Squire fly away into the night. Wouldn’t Jean-Sébastien be surprised when he opened his door to find a flying hand! I wished I could be there to see his face.

Next, I gathered my other tools in the plastic bag and put them in the pocket of my robe. I could have used sturdier shoes than my slippers, but nothing could be done about that now.

I turned to the bedraggled mop in the bucket. If my grandmother, the Iron Queen, could use a mortar to fly, then I could use a bucket. I brought it over to the window. It was an old metal bucket, just wide enough for my two feet to fit snugly. I leaned on the mop and closed my eyes.

There was no need for magic words. From my limited experience, I already knew that the real magic came from within. The familiar ball of energy grew inside me, and just as before, I was able to see it as something real – although I couldn’t explain how I could see it. It was as if my perspective shifted a little, allowing me to perceive the forces of magic.

I took a moment to examine that ball. Was it evil, this energy? I turned it over in my mind as if examining a beautiful jewel. Streaks of silver, purple, and gold sparkled around a glowing blue center, humming quietly. I couldn’t feel darkness within it – in fact, it didn’t appear to be either good or bad. It seemed to be… just energy. A tool. Just as a knife could be used to prepare a meal for family and friends or to cut out the heart of a living thing. A new kind of confidence grew within me: the understanding that what I did with the tool was what mattered.

I let the blue light seep out of my chest and circle my head, my shoulders… all the way down to my toes and around the bucket, which started to shake. I imagined that I was hovering in the air like Squire. Almost immediately, the bucket lifted off the ground an inch. The sudden movement scared me, and I gasped.

The bucket slammed down with a thud. I took a deep breath and concentrated.

The bucket rose.

“I hope I know what I’m doing,” I muttered. I grabbed the mop and pushed open the window.

The night wind ruffled my hair, and the chill made me shudder. I closed my eyes tight, suddenly afraid to look down. Squire had slipped out into the open air as if it were nothing unusual, but all I could think about was whether I’d die if I plummeted all the way to the ground from this height. As soon as I thought about falling, imagining it in all its gory details, my bucket plunged to the floor with a bang and overturned, sending me sprawling across the room. I dropped a chair along the way, but the bug-infested mattress softened my fall.

“Interesting,” I whispered, and stood up, leaning on the mop. “So as soon as I think of something… it happens!”

I stood quietly for a short while, waiting to see if the noise I had made would alert someone outside. But all seemed quiet. I stepped into the basket again, trying to block all thoughts of falling from my mind.

The energy ball was still there inside me, sparkling with its threads of silver, gold, and purple. I willed the basket to rise into the air and flew a circle around the room. It was difficult not to think about the terror of a fall, but I managed it this time. Hovering near the window, I congratulated myself; then I zipped across the room this way and that, to better remember how it felt to stay in the air.

Then I took a deep breath, opened my eyes wide, and in one decisive lurch, flew out the window. I floated through the night sky. A billion stars winked at me, and my old friend, the moon, smiled. There was an odd pull on my stomach – as if the effort of flying was somehow linked to my belly. The longer I stayed in the air, the heavier that pull became.

Irvigne Manor was quiet like a sleeping giant. Only a few lights brightened the windows. I floated over the rear garden and landed clumsily at the entrance to the hedge maze. My bucket overturned again, spilling me onto the lawn in a tumble. I needed to work on those landings.

I could have floated right to the gazebo hidden in the center, but I worried that something might happen to me in the dungeon. I wanted to give the kids the best possible chance to escape.

It turned out that the books in my tower prison had been useful after all, at least as an inspiration. One of the moldy old books had been a retelling of the Greek myths. Flipping through its pages, I had remembered the story of Theseus and the Minotaur. Theseus had to fight his way through a labyrinth and battle a half-man, half-bull beast at the center to rescue some children. He cleverly used a piece of string to mark his trail through the labyrinth so he could find his way out.

Theseus and I had a lot in common.

I tied the red thread to a branch at the first turning in the hedge and let it trail out behind me as I hurried through the maze. The mop and bucket were awkward to carry and kept bumping my shins, but I didn’t dare leave them behind. I couldn’t take them inside the gazebo with me, though. I hid them behind the building and pushed my way through the iron door again.

Every time I tried that trick, it got easier. This time, my knees only jellied for a moment before I was off running down the dark hallway. I had no candle, and the trek seemed endless. Holding my hands in front of me, I had to trust my instincts that there were no obstacles in my way. Jean-Sébastien and I had been there only a few days before, and the hall had been mostly clear.

A slight breeze told me that I was nearing the far door. I pushed through it, and a faint light blossomed before me. It was the lone lamp that lit this horrible dungeon.

I poked my head into Mei’s cell and called to her softly. After a bit of shuffling, her dirty face peered through the bars.

Hope lit her eyes. “You’re back!”

“I’m going to get the keys,” I said. “Wake the others, but make sure they stay quiet. Tell everyone to be ready to leave as soon as I get back.”

Mei nodded and shuffled back into the depths of her cell. As I moved toward the stairs, I heard her whispering to her neighbors. Then the children began to wake in one cell after another.

A single candle lit the guardroom halfway up the stairs. The guard was slumped over a table, snoring. This didn’t seem like an effective system to me, but I guessed that the constant darkness made it difficult to stay awake.

I stared at the sleeping man. He wore jeans and a grubby sweatshirt. His snores made the candle flicker. A single key hung from a loop on his belt.

This was where my plan might easily backfire. How could I get that key away from him? A dozen ideas flew through my imagination. With my magic, I could knock him out, suffocate him, bind him, burn him… and I dismissed them all.

Do no harm,
Squire had said. Even though this man was responsible for holding children captive, I wouldn’t let the shadows bite off another part of me to subdue him. I remembered all too well the emptiness inside me that came after a bout of dark magic, and I wanted no more of it. The man wasn’t worth it, even as blameworthy as he was.

But… could I change myself?

I let the energy flow out of the middle of my stomach and twist around me in long threads of gold and silver. It felt ticklish and looked like a giant, glowing squid was clawing its way out of my middle – but it worked. I waited until the energy had surrounded me like a second skin, then I imagined being completely invisible. Looking down, I saw my hand fading in the air. Soon I became truly invisible! The only discomfort was the growing itch in the middle of my stomach, just above my belly button.

Quietly, I stepped into the room and reached for the key. It was hooked onto the guard’s belt with a mountain climber’s carabiner. I worked the clip open and slipped the key off.

My hair fell against his face. The guard snuffled, and I froze. He rubbed his face and opened one unfocused eye, lazily looking for whatever had tickled his nose. Seeing nothing, he fell back to snoring.