Witch Magic (The Cindy Chronicles) (2 page)

It all began six months ago…

I’d just changed into my periwinkle PJs and climbed into bed. My bedside table lamp still glimmered, casting shadows.

“
Diminius.” With the magic word, it went out. 

I tucked my sheet and comforter under my chin, the way I like it, and was about to close my eyes when a tiny red light flicked on above my head.

“What?” Startled, I sat up and scooted toward my headboard. The light grew bigger and bigger. As it grew it moved toward the foot of my bed.

An irritated female voice spoke.
“Cinderella, it’s time. Polonias can’t wait any longer. The land needs you. All of its inhabitants need you.” She sneezed and the rosy light became the outline of a woman around my age. She had brown hair and an eclectic taste in clothing.

Without thinking I pulled the comforter up past my nose. “
Revealith,” I whispered, hoping the magic would show me what she really was.

“Tut, t
ut,” she quipped, then sneezed. “Knock it off with the magic. I’m allergic.”

That made me laugh. “You’re allergic to what? Magic?” She reeked of it.

“Well, yes. No need to be rude.” She tapped on the light blue lampshade next to my bed and it illuminated.

I choked back more laughter. “Sorry.”

The light around her diminished and she dropped lightly to my carpet. I let the comforter fall slightly. There didn’t seem to be anything malevolent about her. She was obviously some kind of witch, like me. Her fashion sense was a bit over the top, unlike me.

She smoothed out her
outlandish bright green dress. The sleeveless bodice sparkled with different colored gems, and the tulle skirt pooled out around her like an overripe tutu. Her legs were covered in black and lime green striped stockings, and she wore pointed black heels. Atop her curly brown hair sat a green and black hat, not pointed but fluffy like an old-fashioned artist’s hat. In front was a lovely gold and lime colored butterfly. It looked real, and I almost reached out to touch, but held back. The woman was tall, around Snow’s height. Her eyelashes were lined in green jewels that matched her eyes.

“So what do you want?” I asked
as I watched her reorganize herself.

She sniffed
but said nothing, then stuck her hands to her sides like she intended to walk on a tight rope. She jumped. When she came back down, her feet landed on the carpet with a thud.

“
Twixit.” She jumped up again. Again her feet returned to the ground with a thud.

I was intrigued. Couldn’t help myself. She glanced at me from u
nder her long, bejeweled lashes and jumped a third time.

“Oh, for the love of butterflies!”
She stomped around in a circle and pulled at her thickly fluffed skirt. The funky black and green hat on her head danced around precariously. I thought it would fall off, but it didn’t. 

“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked, trying to contain my giggles.

She huffed and said something, but I couldn’t understand her with her back to me. I watched her shoulders rise and fall. Then she turned. “Hi, I’m Quilla Templeton. Your fairy godmother. Maybe you remember me?” She stuck out one of fingerless gloved hands.

I
got on my knees and moved toward the edge of the bed. “Um, Quilla, is it?”

She nodded,
blowing her bangs off her forehead.

I took her hand. “You seem young for a fairy godmother.”

She rolled her eyes.

“It’s a title, Cinderella.” Her cheeks reddened. “I may be
slightly
older than you. We fairies age at a much slower rate than humans.” She pulled her hand away and stepped back.

“If you’re a fairy, where are your wings?” I didn’t mean to sound presumptuous, but fai
ries were supposed to have them. That much I knew.

Her cheeks got even redder. “Well, aren’t
you just a tactless bundle of appalling manners?” She crossed her arms. I waited. “A mean and awful fairy by the name of Tinkerbell used magic to steal my wings.” Tears filled her eyes. “I haven’t been able to get them back.”

“Is that why you can’t fly?” I asked, sitting on the edge of my bed.
At least I figured that’s why she kept jumping up and down before. Quilla’s brows burrowed. It was obvious this line of questioning made her sad, but she had come into my room. A few questions wouldn’t hurt.

Quilla
growled, stomped around in another circle, and then stopped when she faced me. “I can fly just fine. Maybe not with my beautiful wings, but I’ve got magic nonetheless.”

I leaned back. “So Quilla. What’s up?”

She glanced at the ceiling. “A roof,” she said quickly.

“Why are you here?” I tried again. Obviously Quilla wasn’t familiar wit
h regular Salem, Massachusetts jargon.

“Oh, right.” She snapped her fingers and sneezed. “You need to come to Polonias. It’s urgent, and only you can save
the land and its people.”

The words sounded rehearsed. I wasn’t buying it. “Right. And you’ve got some great
property to sell me in Florida too. Am I right?” I winked.

Her hands dropped to her sides. “Florida? No.” She shook her head. “Stop talking and listen.”

I shrugged. “Bossing me isn’t helping any.”

She glared. “May I?”

“Continue,” I said, sarcastic.

She put her hands on her hips.
“Polonias is a land created by magic. It’s connected to this one, but doesn’t necessarily reside here. It’s Elsewhere, if you catch my meaning.” She looked at me hopefully.

“I have no idea what you’re saying.”

“Ugh, this is ridiculous. The Croswells should be ashamed of themselves. They should’ve told you the truth when you received the Eye of Abernathy.” Quilla gave me a pointed look. “You’ve never heard of Polonias?”

“The first time was when I had a vision or a dream or something a few months ago.”

“Yes, that was me. We’ve been waiting for you to show up ever since. When you didn’t, King Loyalor sent me to find you and bring you back.” She walked over to my bookshelves, pulled a book, and turned it over. It must’ve been dusty because she blew on it. Dust sailed into the air. She didn’t sneeze.

“Why me? How can I, a person who’s never heard of Polonias,
been to Polonias, or knows a single thing about Polonias, be the one person to save it? Sound like a bunch of bull.”

She gasped. “It
. Is. Not. Bull,” she enunciated. “It may sound odd, but it’s true. You and you alone possess the keys necessary to save our land.”

I snorted.

“Don’t snort at me. It’s very unladylike.” She shoved the book back in its place and stomped over. She leaned down so our faces were aligned. “Are you going to help us or not, Cinderella?”

I leaned in and touched her nose with mine. “No.”

She pulled back. “Well, that’s just unacceptable!” She sputtered and threw her hands in the air. Glitter seemed to shoot from her fingertips, and she sneezed. “People will die! Lots of people. And other fairies, water sprites, and gnomes. They’ll die too.” She was out of control, flitting everywhere at once. “Do you want that on your conscience?”

Of course I didn’t want anyone’s death on my consci
ence, but I didn’t believe for one second she was being serious. And the way the butterfly danced atop her head made me take her even less seriously.

She stopped suddenly and looked at me. “You’re a disappointment!” With a
quick lightning crackle and a sneeze she vanished.

My light flicked off
and I was alone.

Timidly, in case she came back,
I made my way under my covers, tucked them to my chin, and thought and thought and thought.

Mostly I believed Quilla Templeton was nothing but a nuisance
. Still a tiny speck in my brain wondered if she were telling the truth. The speck got bigger until I decided to talk to Professor Pops about it. Maybe he would know something about Polonias.

The dream that night was surreal. I stood
in the middle of a misty meadow. It was dark except for a pink moon hanging against the gray-violet sky. Gigantic black trees surrounded me. But it was silent. There wasn’t a swish of the tall grasses tickling my bare legs. Not a single leaf rustled. There wasn’t a breeze or even the tiniest sound of insects.

Except my breathing.

But I sense
d someone was out there. Just beyond the tree line. Watching me. Waiting for something. Or maybe he was stalking me. Maybe I was his prey. I didn’t know.

A figure stepped
forward. Dark. Solitary. And I sucked in a breath. My heart rate sped up. I knew I should run. But my feet were planted to the spot. As though I were one of the tall grasses, unable to uproot myself.

Five feet away, the figure stopped
.

I strain
ed to catch a glimpse.

Arms reach
ed out. Grasping. As though it wanted to touch me, but couldn’t. 

A male voice whispered
. “Come, Cinderella. I need you.”

I was still hazy from the dream, but at least I showered and dressed. Presentable, my mother would say. I walked downstairs to the smell of coffee,
blueberry muffins and bacon. My three favorite things. I was in my work uniform. Black pants. White shirt. Burgundy and black vest. Bertilinis recently made me an assistant manager.

My mother was seated at the breakfast bar. She looked perfect. Her
dyed blond hair done up in a twist. Fresh makeup. She wore a buttery satin, short-sleeve blouse, tan skirt, and nude heels.

“Hi M
om.” I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She put a piece of grapefruit in her mouth and smiled, then gave me a once over with her hazel eyes.

“Why are you still working at that job,
Cin? I thought it was decided that once you graduated you’d quit. You don’t need it.” She pushed the grapefruit away and stood.

And here we go
, I thought, sitting on the chair next to the one she’d been sitting in. I sat my work apron on the counter and rested my chin on my palm. “You and dad decided. Not me. I like my job. It makes me feel…” I shrug. “Grounded. Normal. Like I belong.” The dream, and my visit with Quilla last night, seeped to the forefront of my mind. But I internally shook both away.

My m
om pulled bacon from the oven and placed two pieces on a plate next to a blueberry muffin. Then she slid the plate in front of me. “Why would you want to be normal? You aren’t. Witch or not. You’re a Croswell. We don’t do normal.” Her face lit up with a smile.

I remembered what Quilla said last night. “The
Croswells should be ashamed of themselves.” I was a Croswell wasn’t I? My aunt possessed magic. We had to be related, right? The thoughts tumbled around in my mind. Sure all families had secrets. But if I was adopted, well that was a
big
secret.

“Cindy,” my mom barked.

I glanced up, shoved my questions away, and took a bite of bacon. “Thanks for breakfast, Mom.” She hadn’t prepared it. I didn’t think my mom knew how to cook bacon, or muffins, or even coffee. She left everything domesticated to Alice, our housekeeper.

My mom
shook her head and laughed. “Of course. How long is your shift?”

I chewed and swallowed. “It’s eight hours, so I’ll be home late.”

“Oh, what else do you have planned today? Going to hang out with Gabe?” She stuck the bacon pan on top of the stove with a hot pad and then looked at me.

I shrugged.
I hoped so. Gabe and I spent as much time as possible together. “Probably. I need to talk to Profes—Mr. Henry about something too. So I’m going to go over to his house after breakfast.”

Mom nodded. “Alright. See you later.” She
turned to leave the kitchen but I stopped her.

“Hey M
om?” I walked over and hugged her. Secrets or not, she meant the world to me.

My mom patted me lightly
on the back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said squeezing her. “I-I just love you.”

She sniffed. “Love you too, Cindy.” My mom pulled away and patted her arm before leaving the kitchen.

I took a deep breath. If she
was keeping secrets from me they wouldn’t last long. I had a spell for that.