Mrs. Frabbleknacker lunged at the chalkboard, and Rupert dashed to the other side of the classroom. She caught hold of Rupert’s shirt and grabbed it, but he pulled away, tearing his shirt in the process.
Rupert didn’t waste a second — he burst from the classroom and ran down the hall. He didn’t know if Mrs. Frabbleknacker was following him or not, but he didn’t have time to turn around and find out. He needed more help and more protection than he had ever needed before. And there was only one person who could help him: Witchling Two.
Double Trouble
RUPERT LOCKED HIS FRONT DOOR BEHIND HIM, ran through the house, and panted in the doorframe of his basement.
“Rupert?” Witchling Two said. She popped up from behind the wooden table. “How did the potion work on Mrs. Frabblebabble?”
Rupert stomped over to her and slammed his hands on the table. “HOW? She’s madder than ever!”
Witchling Two giggled. “I knew it would work. I am good at potions, even if I’m rubbish at spells. Speaking of which, how would you like to practice spells today? My Bar Exam is coming up in four days, and I’m no better off today than when I met you.”
“We have bigger problems than your Bar Exam right now!”
Witchling Two pouted. “Well there’s no need to shout,” she said.
“I don’t understand what you did to me anyway. A sand potion—what is that?” Rupert thought about the way Mrs. Frabbleknacker’s eyes couldn’t stay on him. Rupert’s jaw dropped. “You made me slippery to the human eye… just like sand is slippery to witches! Does that mean Mrs. Frabbleknacker isn’t a witch after all?”
“I didn’t make you slippery to the human eye, silly,” Witchling Two said. “Just to Mrs. Frubblebubble’s eyes. You were thinking about her when you took the potion, right?”
“Of course I was, but that’s not the prob—”
CRASH.
The sound of broken glass rattled throughout the house.
“She’s here!” Rupert hissed. “Mrs. Frabbleknacker!” He scurried underneath the table and hid.
“I’ll deal with her,” Witchling Two said. “No Mrs. Fribbleknobber is going to mess with my apprentice!”
Rupert held his knees and sucked in a great big breath. He hoped, wished, and prayed that his evil teacher wasn’t at the basement door. He wasn’t sure what Witchling Two could do to fight her — after all, she still wasn’t very good at spell-work — but he appreciated the thought.
He was doomed. Utterly and completely doomed.
Witchling Two gasped, and Rupert threw his hands over his ears to block out the worst from coming.
“W-what are you doing here?” Witchling Two said, her voice unnaturally high-pitched.
“I knew it!” a familiar voice crowed. Rupert peeked out from under the table — Witchling Two’s guardians, Nebby and Storm, were lingering by the stairs, their hoods shrouding their faces. Rupert could only see Nebby’s very disapproving frown and Storm’s very gleeful grin.
“I knew it!” Storm shouted again, throwing her hood back to reveal her pointed, wrinkly face. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! I told you that our witchling was still seeing the humanling! I told you she had been gallivanting with this boy! I told you it would land us in nothing but trouble!”
Nebby removed her hood, too, and Rupert almost winced when he saw her face. She was wearing the I’m-very-disappointed-in-you expression. Of all the faces a parent could make, Rupert knew that was the worst one.
“How long have you known?” Witchling Two squeaked.
“Oh, we’ve known for a while,” Nebby said ominously. “And what’s more, the Fairfoul Witch also knows, now. She is furious.”
Witchling Two grew pale. Rupert watched her tongue flub around in her mouth, trying to wrap around the perfect words. “Fairfoul knows?” she squeaked.
Storm and Nebby nodded, and a knot tugged in Rupert’s stomach.
“How?” Witchling Two asked.
“I don’t know. It was very sudden. At the stroke of the Witching Hour, she stormed out of her lair shouting profanities about a boy named Rupert Campbell,” Nebby said.
Storm nodded sagely. “Must have consulted the tea leaves this afternoon. Yes, yes, she must have.”
“But when would she have found out?” Witchling Two asked. “Everyone knows she sleeps all day.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Nebby said. “What matters is that she knows.”
“We should have stopped them, Nebby,” Storm said, though she was glaring at Rupert and Witchling Two. “I told you we should have stopped them before Fairfoul found out!”
“Why didn’t you?” Rupert said.
Nebby’s swiveled her head to look at him, and for the first time, Rupert thought he saw some gentleness swimming behind her eyes. “She was improving — her potions were sharper, suddenly she was acing her practice WHATs, and she was confident. And,” Nebby paused to put her hand on Witchling Two’s shoulder, “parents want to see their witchlings happy, Rupert. And Witchling Two has never been happier.”
Witchling Two nodded robustly.
“But now I see that indulging your friendship was a mistake.”
“Why’s that?” Rupert asked.
“Didn’t you hear, boy?” Storm said. “The Fairfoul Witch is furious! Fairfoul! And if Fairfoul is furious, then the rest of the Witches Council is furious, too.”
“You can’t practice with this boy any longer,” Nebby said. “The Witches Council knows his identity — you’ve put this boy at deep risk. Though, he was already in deep risk — now he’s a walking time bomb.”
“That’s exactly why I can’t leave him,” Witchling Two said firmly. “I didn’t leave Rupert when the witches smoked us out of Pexale Close. I didn’t leave him when the Witches Council was chasing us. I didn’t leave him when he was having problems with Mrs. Frocklebopper. And I won’t leave him now.”
Rupert grinned. They really were friends.
Nebby elbowed Witchling Two. “You sure have a sensitive spot for this boy, hmm?”
“Getting into trouble, all day and all night!” crowed Storm. Then she bent over and laughed uncontrollably until she hiccupped for breath.
Witchling Two cocked her chin upward, a defiant expression etched on her face. But when she spoke, her voice trembled. “Storm Witch, Nebulous Witch — I’ve never asked you for anything big before, but I need your help now. If the Fairfoul Witch finds us, Rupert and I are both cooked. We need a protection spell around Rupert’s house, and I need you to cast it. So will you help me?”
“We are bound to the code of the Witches Council,” Storm said. “Technically, the Witches Council is supposed to find you and punish the boy — and since Fairfoul is the highest ranking witch, we should not disobey.”
Rupert grabbed Witching Two’s hand. Were they going to have to fight their way out of the basement against her guardians? Would they turn him over to the Fairfoul Witch?
Nebby took a step closer, and Rupert took one backward.
Nebby paused and smiled softly. “Don’t be scared, Rupert. Witchling Two means more to us than a Fairfoul Witch decree. You ought to know that by now.” Nebby walked to Witchling Two and affectionately patted her head. “You are our witchling, our family — and we will protect you. At least— until we figure out a long-term plan for you, Rupert. As I said, you are in terrible danger. Storm and I need to do a little investigating within the Witches Council before we can figure out how best to handle your situation. Promise me you’ll stay put until we return. We’ll discuss your options then, okay?”