‘Turpin!’ she hissed. ‘Can you get me these ingredients? Moon dust, a liar’s tongue, a caterpillar, a fox’s whisker, a thread from a hangman’s rope, powdered chameleon . . .’ She paused. ‘We also need an egg, a mirror and a playing card, but I can get those back at the cottage.’ She looked up again, gesturing to the shelves. ‘Go, quickly, and be careful!’
Turpin zipped off in the direction of the shelves, grabbing jars and piling them up in her arms. One by one, ducking and diving through the sisters’ shrieked curses, she rolled the jars and bottles to Tanya, who checked them off the list and bundled them into her waiting rucksack. Between the snatches of cargo, she and Don watched – Don through his fingers – as the sisters threw every hex they could think of at each other.
Griselda was now struggling to walk, forced to teeter unsteadily on two great crow’s feet that snagged her dress and caught in its hem, while Gretchen was also clumsy on two cloven hooves, not helped by the fact that her beard was now three times longer and wrapped round her legs.
Two more jars rolled towards Tanya and she snatched them up. ‘That’s almost everything. Well done, Turpin!’ she called. ‘Now all we need is the liar’s tongue.’ She watched anxiously as Turpin ran up the ladder like a rat into a pantry, gathering up several more jars. ‘What is she doing?’ she asked Don in confusion. ‘We only need one more thing on the list – she’s carrying at least three!’
Don watched, wide-eyed and as bewildered as Tanya was. ‘Turpin, hurry!’ he croaked.
‘Am hurrying!’ Turpin panted. ‘Just need one . . . more . . . thing!’
‘Leave it!’ Don cried as a shelf of jars just an arm’s length from the fairy toppled over and smashed. ‘Whatever it is, just leave it!’
Whether Turpin chose to ignore him or simply couldn’t hear him over the din, she continued to climb up the ladder, reaching out for something on the topmost shelf. As she did so, Gretchen hurled another curse.
‘You’re as stubborn as a goat,’ she yelled. ‘So you may as well look like one!’ She flung a fireball, but at the moment of release one of her hooves tangled in her beard and the curse flew askew.
‘Turpin, watch out!’ cried Tanya.
Turpin reacted swiftly and almost managed to dodge – but not quite. The curse caught the very tip of her wing, knocking her off the ladder. At the same time, Griselda’s counter-curse flew the other way, catching Turpin’s leg on her way down. She emitted a pained squeak, but managed to snatch whatever it was she had wanted from the shelf before tumbling to the floor and scurrying back to Tanya, her wing tip smoking. Two small, pointed horns poked up through her hair and from under the back of her waistcoat a long, thin tail with a bushy end flicked like an agitated cat’s.
‘Oh, Turpin!’ Don said in horror. ‘Look what they’ve done to you!’
‘What?’ Turpin said, oblivious.
Tanya reached out for a shard of glass from a cabinet that had been shattered nearby and held it up for Turpin to see her reflection. ‘Maybe there’s another spell,’ she said. ‘If we take the rest of the book, perhaps we can undo it . . .’
But a wide grin had spread across Turpin’s face as she peered into the shard. ‘Turpin does not want it undone,’ she breathed, stroking the little horns and swinging the tail in wonder. ‘Turpin loves them!’
‘That’s settled then,’ Don said hastily. ‘Now, if you’re sure you don’t mind, let’s move!’
Tanya nodded, stuffing the rest of the jars and Don into the rucksack, and prepared to run. ‘On the count of three, head for the door,’ she told Turpin. ‘Ready? One, two, three!’ The two of them sprinted for the door, skidding on broken china and spilled tea, and narrowly avoiding another ball of smoke headed in Gretchen’s direction. Tanya grabbed the door handle, but, before she could even twist it, another fireball from Gretchen blew it apart and they fell into the tiled hall where the ghostly butler was hovering with a resigned expression.
‘Run!’ Tanya gasped and, with no time to dodge the butler, whipped straight through him.
‘Well, really,’ he huffed. ‘No manners at all!’
‘Sorry!’ Tanya yelled, hurtling towards the front door. She flung it open, and then she and Turpin bolted into the empty street, leaving the madness of the bearded sisters behind as they fled under the bruised sky of the inbetween.
19
The Sleep of the Dead
THE CART SPED ALONG THE TRACK, whipping away from the potting shed and leaving Tanya breathless.
‘Do you think they’ll come after us?’ she said. A glance over her shoulder told her nothing; her hair was flying everywhere and everything beyond it was a blur.
‘I doubt it,’ said Don. ‘They probably haven’t even realised we’ve left.’
Tanya clung to the sides of the cart, wincing as it jerked and jolted. She would be sure to have bruises later, although for now there was something else that worried her far more. ‘How long have we been gone? It feels like we were there for hours and hours. My mother must be wondering where I’ve got to . . . and poor Oberon has been waiting all this time!’
‘Worry not,’ said Turpin. ‘Was an inbetween, remember? When passing from here to there and back again, time is nothing. Like the clock got stuck.’
‘Are you sure?’ Tanya asked doubtfully, but even as she did so she became aware of the distant sounds of chiming. The cart slowed and the air grew warmer and stuffy. The sugary sweetness of candyfloss filled her nose. There was a mechanical clunk as the track they were on shifted . . . and then they were back on the seaside ride once more, surrounded by waxwork mermaids and with the chiming of the clock still striking midnight. It was as though they had never left the ride at all.
The cart veered to the right, bursting through a set of double doors into bright sunshine before swooping down a slope and into another door. Behind this one was a makeshift graveyard with spectres floating overhead and bony hands reaching up through burial mounds. ‘You are now in limbo,’ a voice announced with an eerie chuckle. ‘The land in between the living and the dead.’
‘Oh,’ said Tanya, slumping back in the seat as a wave of nausea rushed over her. ‘I feel . . .’
‘Dizzy? Sick?’ said Turpin.
‘Yes,’ Tanya said weakly. ‘How did you know?’
‘Is normal for a human going into an inbetween for the first time. Not what you are used to.’ She reached up and rubbed Tanya’s head. ‘But it will pass very soon.’
The cart bumped its way through one final set of doors and then, thankfully, came to a final stop. Tanya clambered out shakily, hauling the rucksack with the heavy ingredients over her shoulder, and headed for the exit. She took a few deep breaths, trying to gulp away the sickness she was feeling, but the seaside smells only made things worse. She managed to reach the ticket booth where Oberon was waiting patiently, then leaned against it and closed her eyes.
A throaty chuckle caused her to open them again and she found the strange little man who had sold her the ticket staring at her. ‘First time in an inbetween?’ he said knowingly.
She waited for him to offer some kind of advice, but none was forthcoming. Instead, he motioned at Oberon and gave Turpin a curt nod.
‘Well, best be on your way,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Can’t have you hanging around here looking green, never know who might be watching. I don’t need any unwelcome attention.’
Tanya took the hint, calling to Oberon. He stuck his wet nose in her hand in greeting, then trotted alongside her as she made her way back through the other funfair rides. To her great relief, Turpin was right. Within a couple of minutes, the sick feeling had passed and she was almost back to normal, though her knees still felt a bit wobbly.
By the time she reached the carousel, her thoughts turned to the contents of her rucksack and a tremor of excitement went through her. She had a spell in her bag. An actual magical spell and the ingredients to perform it. Yesterday she would not have believed that such a thing was even possible.
&nbs
p; As the carousel whirled next to her, a dark figure standing among the brightly-painted wooden horses caught her eye within the rainbow of colours. Tanya slowed a little. Unlike the other people on the ride, the figure was not on a horse. Nor was it laughing or shouting – or even moving for that matter. It was standing motionless amongst the rising and falling horses, and there was something odd about its face. It vanished from view as the carousel continued its circuit, reappearing a moment later, not having moved. Tanya looked harder, realising with a jolt that the face was a painted mask rather like that of an unhappy clown.
‘What’s the matter?’ Don asked, his voice muffled by the pocket of the rucksack. ‘Why have we stopped?’
‘Nothing’s the matter,’ Tanya answered. ‘I just spotted someone standing on the carousel. They seemed like they didn’t fit for some reason.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘But then I saw the mask – it must be another waxwork. Funny, I never noticed it earlier.’ She shook her head and was about to continue walking on when something happened that made her freeze where she was. The figure had moved. She watched as it lifted a gloved hand to one of the poles and held it to steady itself. What was most disturbing was that, even though Tanya could not tell exactly where the figure was looking from behind the mask, she got a strong feeling that it was watching her. And, more than that, the suspicion that she had seen it before.
‘Keep going,’ Don croaked. She looked down and saw that he had risked a quick peek out of the pocket.
‘What is it?’ she asked, moving off into a crowd of people. ‘You look . . . worried.’
‘How can you tell what I look like?’ Don snapped. ‘How many worried toads have you ever seen?’
‘Well, none,’ Tanya admitted. ‘Until now. But I’m getting pretty good at reading your expression.’
‘Just keep moving,’ said Don. He shot an anxious look at Turpin. ‘Keep to the crowds, where it’s busy.’
His words sent a chill creeping over Tanya’s skin. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked. ‘Are we in danger? Who was that in the mask?’
But Don either did not hear or was pretending not to for she got no answer. She continued onwards, making her way through the crowds of fun-seekers, eventually reaching the exit on to the street. A quick look back reassured her somewhat; the masked figure was not in sight. Still she stuck closely to groups or families as she headed back towards Hawthorn Cottage, remembering at the last minute to stop by a little shop on the way for the groceries she had promised her mother.
The sun had burned through the clouds by the time they returned to the cottage. Her mother was reading on the porch once more, and looked up from her book as Tanya approached.
‘Fancy a stroll down to the funfair this afternoon?’ she asked.
‘Um,’ said Tanya, trying to think of an excuse.
‘No.’ Turpin pinched her leg, causing her to wince. Her mother looked at her strangely. ‘No meddling mothers botching things up this afternoon. Is work to be done! Must keep her away.’
‘Maybe later,’ Tanya said, not meeting her mother’s eyes. ‘I’ve arranged to, er . . . meet Ratty on the pier.’
Her mother pursed her lips. ‘Oh. That Ratty again. I see. Well, make sure you stay on the pier and don’t go gallivanting off by that lonely river again.’
‘I won’t.’ Tanya went into the cottage and offloaded the groceries in the kitchen before shutting herself in the bedroom. She heaved the heavy rucksack off her back and flopped down on the bed with a sigh, unzipping the pocket so that Don could climb out. Turpin immediately leaped on to the dressing table, admiring her new horns and tail and pulling gruesome faces at herself in the mirror.
‘So now what?’ Tanya asked. She lay back on the bed and let her head sink into the pillow, suddenly exhausted. The inbetween appeared to have sapped her strength.
‘Now we must prepare everything,’ said Don. ‘There’s no time to waste – you have to get the spell ready for tonight.’
‘And what about my mother?’ Tanya asked. ‘We can’t have her snooping around while I’m trying to do it.’
‘No,’ said Don, thoughtful. ‘And we also need to take care of her when we set off to find Henry. She can’t know you’re missing.’
‘No, she can’t,’ Tanya agreed. ‘Turpin, you said you had some tricks we could use?’
‘Turpin always has tricks,’ the fairy announced, baring her teeth at herself in the mirror.
‘Then can you stop preening for a moment and tell us about them?’ said Don.
Reluctantly, Turpin dragged herself away from her reflection and came to sit on the bed by Don. She delved into the rucksack, removing the stolen jars one by one and setting them into two piles. Tanya sat up and hurriedly began hiding the jars she recognised beneath her pillow, fearful that her mother could walk in. When the last one was concealed, she studied the others, realising as she did that in one of them something was moving.
‘What did you bring him for?’ she asked, staring at the red-faced Cornish brownie, who was eyeing his new surroundings with contempt.
‘Bargaining with,’ said Turpin. She tapped on the glass, enraging the brownie further. ‘Always good bargains to be made when it comes to a fairy’s freedom.’ She grinned slyly. ‘Magical bargains that could help us.’
‘That seems a bit . . . cruel,’ said Tanya. ‘Perhaps we should just release him.’
Turpin made a disgusted noise. ‘Shan’t! Not yet anyway. He could come in useful. And anyway borrowing a bit of his magic is nothing to what the bearded sisters would have done.’
‘What would they have done?’ Tanya asked. The brownie’s eyes flicked from side to side, glaring at each of them in turn. He pressed his ear against the glass.
‘Depends.’ Turpin delved into the bag again, removing a clear glass jar containing a shimmering substance. It looked a little like the baby’s cry, except thicker, and within it fine strands were visible. ‘A stew, maybe, or fried up with liver and onions. Or dipped in chocolate.’
Don nodded. ‘Chocolate brownie.’
Inside the jar, the brownie was not looking quite so angry now. In fact, he had begun to tremble.
Tanya was horrified. ‘They would have eaten him?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Turpin. ‘Is a good way to absorb more magic. The best way probably. So, you see? He should be thanking us.’
This time, Tanya didn’t disagree. ‘So back to my mother,’ she said at last. ‘What can we do?’
‘Plenty,’ said Turpin. ‘How easy do you want it to be?’
‘As easy as possible,’ said Tanya.
Turpin held up the shimmering jar. ‘Then this is the answer.’
‘What is it?’
‘Spidertwine.’ Turpin unscrewed the lid and pulled out a shimmering, silver strand between her fingers. It was so fine it was almost invisible. ‘Is magical, very strong. Unbreakable by mortals.’
Tanya frowned. ‘Yes, I remember. But how can this help us?’
Turpin looked at her as if she were simple. ‘We wait until she’s asleep, then tie her up, silly!’
‘I hope you’re joking.’
‘Is perfect!’ Turpin insisted. She gave a wicked laugh. ‘She won’t be able to move at all! And we could even sew her lips up so she can’t shout. Hey presto.’
‘I am not tying my mother up!’ Tanya said in exasperation. ‘Or sewing her lips together. Good grief!’
Turpin scowled. ‘You said you wanted it to be easy.’
‘Yes, but I thought . . . oh, never mind.’ Tanya rubbed her eyes tiredly. ‘Do you have any sensible ideas?’
‘We knock her out cold,’ Turpin said sulkily. ‘With a sleeping potion.’
‘Now that has potential,’ Don said.
‘Go on,’ Tanya said. ‘How long would it last? And how would we make it?’
‘Can last between a day and a week,’ said Turpin. ‘Depends how strong you brew it.’
‘It takes the form of a tea, I believe,’ said Don.
Turpin n
odded.
‘Does it taste like normal tea, though?’ Tanya asked.
Turpin made a face. ‘Oh, no. Tastes nasty.’
‘Then she’ll never drink it,’ Tanya said. ‘Isn’t there another way? Sleep would be the best solution – she’d never know I was gone.’
A crafty look crept into Turpin’s eyes. ‘There is another way. A much simpler way, used by thieves and robbers in the night. The Sleep of the Dead.’
‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that, either,’ said Tanya.
Turpin rolled another jar into Tanya’s lap. Tanya lifted it and examined the contents. It was filled with something dark and powdery. ‘What is this stuff?’
‘Graveyard dirt,’ said Turpin proudly.
Tanya squeaked and tossed it away.
‘Careful, stupid girl!’ Turpin pounced on the jar and hugged it to her. ‘You could have broken it!’
‘Well, it’s a horrible thing to be carrying around!’
‘Is a very clever old trick,’ said Turpin, clutching the jar protectively. ‘Throw a handful of this at a house in the night and POOF! Everyone inside falls into a deep, deep sleep until the spell caster chooses to wake them. Is perfect.’
Tanya stared at the jar. Though she was repulsed by its contents, it certainly seemed a simple solution. ‘That’s all you have to do? Throw a handful at a house?’
‘Easy-peasy,’ said Turpin.
Tanya narrowed her eyes. ‘Then why didn’t you just tell me about this first?’
Turpin shrugged. ‘Because humans are so squeamish.’
Tanya snorted. ‘Because you wanted it for your thieving supplies more like.’
Turpin nodded, not embarrassed in the least.
‘Fine,’ said Tanya. ‘The Sleep of the Dead it is then. Now we’d best get on.’ She delved into the rucksack and took out the page from the spell book. It was a little rumpled from being bumped about, but otherwise undamaged. She smoothed it out on the bed. ‘We have everything except for three things: a playing card, a mirror and an egg.’ She got up and removed the mirror from the wall above the dressing table. ‘That takes care of one. I’ll find the other two, then as soon as my mother comes back into the cottage we’ll sneak outside and throw the graveyard dirt to put her to sleep before I make the potion.’