How to Stop a Witch (3 page)

“It’s not my world. It’s called Myrth, and yes, it has witches and magicians and monsters and all kinds of scary things.”

“I see,” said Kristin. “Then it sounds like they’re used to trouble.”

Greg knew she was just patronizing him, but still her statement caused him to recall King Peter’s note. “Not trouble like this. I think Witch Hazel may be threatening to destroy their whole world.”

“Why would she do that? Isn’t it her world too?”

“Yeah, but I think she might be crazy. She kind of lost it when everyone started calling her a witch.”

“Oh, then she’s not a witch?”

“No, she is. She just doesn’t like being called one.”

Again Kristin frowned. She was staring at Greg’s face but not into his eyes, probably checking his color. “Hardly worth destroying your world over, I would think.”

“Look, I know you don’t believe me.”

Kristin wasn’t paying attention. “What
is
that?”

“What’s what?”

“That creepy buzzy feeling in the air.”

“Buzzy?”

Despite the two earlier occurrences, Greg was caught completely off guard when the air suddenly split between them, revealing an endless sea of floating stars. As if from far off he heard Kristin scream, but he couldn’t see her face behind the gaping hole that hung in mid-air between them.

The opening remained for only a few seconds before it flashed and disappeared, leaving behind a third envelope that dropped harmlessly to the path. Greg could now see Kristin clearly. Her face had lost all color, and her mouth had gone slack.

“Believe me now?”

“W-what was that?” Kristin managed to say. “Greg, did you see that?”

“Of course I saw. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. That was the rift I went through to get to Myrth.”

“B-but that’s impossible.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

Greg stooped to pick up the envelope. He tore it open and pulled out another letter, identical to the others. This one was written in a flowing script, though it was harder to read than King Peter’s, as it looked to have been written in a hurry.

“What does it say?” Kristin asked.

Greg suspected she’d rather have spent a month of detentions with Manny Malice than hear the answer. He certainly understood her reluctance. He still had a lot of trouble accepting the concept of Myrth himself.

Dearest Greg,

Lucky just told me Dad sent you a note. I know he asked you not to come, but Lucky says he worded it in such a way that might make you ignore the warning. Listen to me. YOU MUST NOT COME HERE. Simon says you’ll get killed when you do, and whether you save the kingdom first or not doesn’t matter. I won’t see you harmed.

Love, Priscilla

Greg looked up from the note.

Kristin’s earlier expression of terror had been replaced by something else. “Love, Priscilla?” she said.

Greg tried his best not to smile. “That’s what it says.”

“Who’s Priscilla?”

“She’s a princess. Didn’t you hear? She said Dad just sent me a note, and that last one came from King Peter, remember?”

“I meant, who is she, and why is she signing notes, ‘Love, Priscilla’?”

Greg blushed. “I don’t know. It’s just something people say in notes. You know, like ‘Sincerely’ or ‘Yours truly.’”

“I don’t think I like it.”

“Really,” he said, feeling quite the opposite. “Oh. Well . . . sorry.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?” He started walking again, slowly, so Kristin could follow on trembling legs.

“It sounds like these people really need your help,” she said.

“You did hear the part about me dying if I went there, right?”

“Yes, I heard.” She fell silent for a few steps. “So, who’s Simon?”

“Simon Sez. He’s a prophet.”

Kristin glared at him. “Are you messing with me?”

“What? Oh, no. His name really is Simon Sez, and he’s a prophet, I swear.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and he’s never wrong. If he says I’d get killed if I went there . . . well, then I might as well take a headstone with me.”

Kristin looked even more upset now than she had when the portal opened. “If he really is a prophet . . . well, he didn’t say you
would
get killed, did he? He said you
will
get killed.”

Greg gulped. “Not if I don’t go there.”

“But you will. Simon says.”

Now it was Greg who fell silent. How was it Kristin seemed so comfortable with the whole notion of prophecies when Greg had already lived through two of them and still refused to believe? Anyway, she had a valid point, even if it was one he desperately wished to ignore.

They eventually reached the end of the woods and followed the sidewalk to Kristin’s house. The whole way Kristin grilled Greg about the world of Myrth, but mostly she wanted to know about Princess Priscilla and what Greg thought of her.

As much as he liked her, Greg was glad to drop Kristin off at her porch. As soon as the door closed, he rushed back to the woods, eager to follow the trails home before his mother got too worried.

Along the way he tried not to dwell on the inevitable. He didn’t know when or where it would happen, but surely it was just a matter of time before the rift would come for him, pluck him from this world, and drag him off to his doom.

A twig snapped, and Greg spun toward the sound, fully expecting to spot a gaping hole in the universe.

Nothing. Probably just a monkeydog.

Oh no!
Already he was thinking like he was back on Myrth. Small creatures, never seen but always heard making impossibly loud noises in the brush, monkeydogs existed only in that other world.

Or did they? Greg had once been told that long ago Earth had real magicians. Who’s to say they didn’t have monkeydogs, too? After all, when it came to monkeydogs, the fact no one had ever seen one could be offered up as irrefutable proof that the whole planet was littered with them.

A second rustling caused Greg to jump. He searched the path behind. What if Manny Malice had followed him out here? He gripped his walking stick tighter and hurried forward, listening to the many noises of the woods. Again he thought about Priscilla’s note. She must really be in trouble this time. Too bad there was nothing he could do to help.

Or was there? Simon had already predicted Greg’s return to Myrth. He was going there no matter what. But if he waited for the magicians to come for him, who’s to say they wouldn’t take too long about it and botch up the whole prophecy?

Because then it won’t come true—which is impossible, right?

No. His friend Nathan once told him the reason prophecies always come true is because the people who act them out work so hard to see them fulfilled. Maybe Greg did need to take action now. He debated the matter a long while. And then, thankfully, a longer while.

What about his “rather unfortunate demise?” It seemed an important detail, one that kept him spinning around and flailing his walking stick each time he heard a rustling in the brush behind.

He continued to debate the issue nearly the whole way home, but in the end, as horrible as it was to accept, he arrived at the only conclusion possible. Simon had already predicted he was going to die. There was no way around it. But why die for nothing? At least he could save Priscilla and her family first, not to mention all the other citizens of Myrth. Many would have said it was a noble viewpoint. Greg recognized it for what it was. Utter resignation.

His fingers closed around the ring he wore on his right hand. Given to him by the dragon Ruuan, it was no ordinary piece of jewelry. With it, all he had to do was say one magic word, and he’d be transported to Ruuan’s lair in an instant, and from there the dragon could carry him back to the castle in minutes.

He slowed to a crawl, debating what to do. Again, a noise behind. Greg spun toward the sound.

Maybe Manny
was
following him. Maybe when Simon predicted Greg’s demise, he also knew Greg’s time had come no matter which world Greg stayed in.

Greg knew then what he must do. He removed the ring from his finger and held it up to what little light bled through the trees.

“Well, this is it,” he said to the empty woods. The monkeydogs quietly rustled in reply. “I wish I could say I’ll see you again soon.”

For a moment the woods fell silent. Then Greg said the one word that would forever seal his fate. “Transportus.”

Behind him the brush rustled. Greg’s world shifted and began to fade from view. But then a voice screamed out, and something hit him hard about the waist, reminding him of the time Princess Priscilla had latched onto him and hitched a ride all the way across the kingdom to Ruuan’s lair, risking her life to protect him.

The image was still floating in his mind an instant later, when Greg found himself standing at the center of a huge cavern surrounded by glowing rock. Around his waist he felt the arms of a young girl. He realized then the thought of Princess Priscilla had been more than just a memory.

Only this time it wasn’t Priscilla who had risked her life to protect him. It was Kristin Wenslow.

Kristin’s screams echoed
throughout the enormous cavern. “Don’t let go!” Greg warned. He wrapped his arms around her just in case, and in spite of the horror of his situation, couldn’t help but notice how soft she felt.

“Where are we?” Kristin cried.

“Ruuan’s lair.” Greg dragged her toward a storage chamber nestled in one corner, where he knew the air would be magically cooled. It was there that Ruuan stored his food, while it was still breathing.

“Who’s Ruuan?” said Kristin. “And why does he have a lair?”

“Because he’s a dragon.”

“What?” Her grip tightened until Greg could hardly draw a breath.

“Don’t worry,” he gasped. “He doesn’t seem to be here right now. This happened to me last time, too.”

“Last time?” Kristin shrieked. Greg shoved her through the narrow gap that separated the chilled storage chamber from Ruuan’s lair. Light cast from the molten rock outside illuminated her face with heavy shadows. It might have lent a ferocious quality, had Kristin not been so enraged already. “You’ve been here before, and you came back?”

Greg could tell from her tone that Kristin couldn’t see how this was possible. Odd, since she was the one who pointed out he should come. “Ruuan’s okay,” he tried to reassure her. “He likes me, I guess, on account of I didn’t slay him the first time I came here.”

“I didn’t slay him either. Do you think he’ll remember?”

“You’ll be fine, as long as you stick with me. Oh, by the way, you can let go now.”

Kristin remained clamped to him like a vice. In theory Greg liked having her arms around him, but in reality it made breathing nearly impossible. After several reassurances, she reluctantly let go, though Greg suspected she would tackle him again at the first hint of a dragon.

“Why did you grab onto me like that?” he asked.

“I heard you talking crazy and thought you were about to do something stupid. As it turns out, I was right.”

“You were the one who said I was going to get killed here whether I ignored the note or not.”

“Yes, but at least my way there was a chance the prophecy could be wrong. Your way has you charging right into an early grave. Why don’t you just go back outside and call for the dragon to eat you?”

“Ruuan wouldn’t eat me,” Greg said. “At least, I don’t think so. Besides, I came to save the kingdom.”

Kristin regarded him doubtfully. “How do you plan to do that?”

“I don’t know. I’m not even sure what the problem is. But I bet it has something to do with the section of amulet I gave Witch Hazel last month.”

Kristin’s mouth dropped open. “How often do you come here?”

“I’ve only been twice, to fulfill two different prophecies. Now I guess there’s been a third.”

Kristin begged to know about Greg’s other two trips, but Greg shook his head. “They’ll be plenty of time to talk on the trail. If what I suspect has happened, we better not wait for Ruuan. He may never come back, and it’s a long way to the castle. Let’s just hope the spirelings aren’t home.”

“The what?” Kristin asked.

“Believe me, you don’t want to know. Take my hand, and whatever you do, don’t let go.”

“Don’t worry.”

As Greg guided her back into Ruuan’s lair he remembered that Ruaan’s ring would protect Kristin whether she held his hand or not, but he conveniently forgot to tell her. He led her to a magical door that hid the secret Passageway of Shifted Dimensions, the only route a mortal could take to the ground, as the lair was nestled halfway up an infinitely tall spire. Greg was nearly as concerned as Kristin when the door opened to welcome them, but they stepped through anyway. Again a cool breeze hit them, as the passageway possessed a special magic of its own.

“This way,” Greg said, though that should have been obvious, since there was but one way they could go.

They descended a steep staircase that gradually melded into a sloping tunnel through the rock. Before long Greg heard a high-pitched whine from over his shoulder.

“What’s that?” Kristin asked, her eyes wide with fear.

At first Greg thought it might be the sound of Ruuan soaring up the spire on his way back from the hunt, but then he realized the true origin of the sound.

“Rake.”

He slipped his backpack off his shoulder and loosened the straps to allow the little shadowcat to escape.

Kristin took one look at the creature with its blue-black fur and unnaturally long tail and screamed. “What is that, Greg? Watch out.”

“Shh. It’s okay. It’s just Rake.”

A sudden shuffling sounded in the passage ahead. The pair froze in place and listened, afraid to breathe.

Whatever was coming was coming fast. Again Greg was reminded of the soaring dragon. He nearly told Kristin to run, but just then two short, stocky creatures rounded a bend in the rock. They looked a bit like rocks themselves, only Greg knew they were not. He also knew he couldn’t possibly outrun them.

Kristin screamed, a sound that was becoming all too familiar, but Greg could hardly blame her. He felt like screaming himself.