“What? Oh, yes!” Witchling Two said cheerfully. “Exactly. You caught us!”
“Well I don’t think that’s appropriate behavior,” Mrs. Campbell said. “Those witches have nasty tempers, and…” Mrs. Campbell stood on her tiptoes, craning her neck. “Is that a shoe under the table? Rupert, are you there?”
Rupert cursed under his breath and rolled out from under the table. He emerged, hesitantly, afraid of what his mother might say about his new lima bean tan.
“Uh… Hi, Mom.”
Mrs. Campbell screamed. Then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fell to the floor with a thump.
“That was a lot easier than I thought it was going to be,” Witchling Two said.
“Easier? You’ve killed her!” Rupert ran over to his mother — but thankfully she was breathing and had a pulse.
“It’s the shock that does it,” Witchling Two said. “I can’t tell you how many people have had that reaction to me over the years.”
“How many?” asked Rupert.
“I just said I couldn’t tell you.”
Rupert sighed. “We were so close.”
“But so near.”
“So far,” Rupert corrected. He thought about how easily Witchling Two lied. “Sandy. Where did that come from?”
Witchling Two grinned. “Well, I wanted to wait for a ta-da moment, but I guess this will have to do.” She stood on her tiptoes and thrust her chest outward. “I thought of my name. When I pass the Bar Exam. Sandy… it comes from… well…” she looked up at him with a sheepish blush. “I want to be the Sand Witch.”
Rupert cracked open with laughter. “The Sand Witch?” he snickered. “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”
Witchling Two harrumphed. “Don’t laugh! I thought it was a very respectable name. And it’s so appropriate for me.”
“You did give me a sand potion. And you thought of the idea of showering ourselves in sand to get away from Witchling Four. And you did make a sand dome to hide from the Council,” Rupert agreed.
“I’ve given this a lot of thought, and you had better call me Sandy now,” Witchling Two said, and Rupert knew her mind was made up.
Mrs. Campbell began to snore on the ground, and Sandy looked at her with pity. She walked over to Rupert’s mother and began to hoist her by her left armpit, and Rupert grabbed her right one. They tried to drag her up the stairs, but she was too heavy. So instead they dragged her to the basement closet and rested her head on a mop. Rupert locked the door to the broom cupboard.
If his mother was passed out in a closet, the Fairfoul Witch might not see her. At least not for the moment.
“Sorry, Mom,” he said, “but this is because I love you.”
Sandy put her arm around him. “She really will be safest there, oh Green Machine with no Spleen who is Seen to Wean Clean Teens off Keen Beans—”
“About that,” Rupert said. “You better get me to Storm and Nebby stat — unless you want me to choke you until you’re purple.”
Sandy squealed. “Purple is my favorite color!” she said, clapping her hands together. “And oh! That reminds me! Do you have any lollipops?”
The Nebulous Witch’s Lair
SANDY AND RUPERT ESCAPED TO NEBBY’S LAIR once the sun had set. Sandy was able to shower them both in sand from a playground’s sandbox, so they were safe from the Fairfoul Witch’s watchful eyes.
Nebby’s lair was the kind of house that Rupert’s mother liked to look at in the real estate magazines — a very modern-looking place with lots of windows, mirrors, and strange-angled walls. It was very bright and clean looking. Quite the opposite of anything Rupert would expect of a witch’s lair.
As soon as Rupert walked in the door, Nebby put up a pot of tea and disappeared into the kitchen to bake something. Rupert prayed it wouldn’t be Toecorn or Knuckle Soup, but when she emerged with a pan, it looked like perfectly harmless chocolate chunk cookies.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Rupert asked, biting into a cookie. “I thought witches were mean and evil and horrid.”
Sandy sniffled. “You didn’t think that about me, did you, Greeny?”
“Stop calling me that!”
Nebby smiled. “Some witches are mean and evil and horrid, much like some humans are mean and evil and horrid. But like humans, not all witches are nasty. I personally don’t enjoy harming things that don’t harm me. And since I’ve raised Witchling Two, I’ve taught her my values.”
Somewhere from the back of the house, Storm hooted, “NO, NEBBY! SHE LEARNED THEM FROM MEEEEEE!”
“Is she all right?” Rupert whispered to Sandy.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “That’s why she’s called the Storm Witch, you know — because of her unpredictable outbursts of emotion.”
Nebby put her hand on Rupert’s arm. “You little green thing,” she said. Then she frowned at Sandy, who plunked into a white armchair with her shoulders hunched.
In seconds, Nebby turned Rupert back to a pink thing, all traces of green now gone. Rupert sighed in relief, as he examined himself in a mirror. For a few horrible moments, he thought that he would look like freshly mowed grass forever.
“We don’t feel comfortable sending you back home at night,” Nebby said.
“But I have to get back to my mom,” Rupert said. “We’ve locked her in a closet, and she’s the only family I have.”
“That’s all good and kind,” said Nebby. “But as soon as the Fairfoul Witch realizes how strongly you feel about your mother, she will use that to hurt you.”
Rupert kicked the leg of the table. “Then what should I do?” he said, his face desperate. “How do I keep my mother safe and still be friends with Sandy? I still need to help her pass her Bar Exam — we only have four days left, and Sandy is in no shape to pass. And she still needs to help me with Mrs. Frabbleknacker, who tried to claw my eyes out when I left class today.”
In all the excitement with the Fairfoul Witch, Rupert had almost forgotten that Mrs. Frabbleknacker was still livid with him. Compared to the problem of the Fairfoul Witch, facing Mrs. Frabbleknacker seemed like a breeze. But even if she was the last concern in his mind, she was still a niggling worry.
The Storm Witch coughed, and all eyes turned to her. “Bear warning at night and by the morning’s light make right.”
Nebby and Sandy nodded thoughtfully.
“Yes, that’s exactly it,” Nebby said, and she put a hand on Rupert’s shoulder. “After Storm and I left your house, we did talk to a member of the Council of Three — someone quite close to the Fairfoul Witch — and she did not seem optimistic about your situation, Rupert. To be honest, you’re in trouble. Much more trouble than you can even imagine.”
“Because I belong to the witches, right?” he said accidentally.
“So… you and our witchling were snooping around the Witches Council lair.” She winked. “Yes… you are claimed. It seems like both you and your mother are on thin ice with the witches.”
“Why?” Rupert asked. “What happened with my mom?”
Nebby pursed her lips. “I’m not exactly sure, Rupert. This falls under the territory of the Fairfoul Witch. I only know what our records show — that your mother stole a forbidden potion, and the witches claimed you.”
He sulked. “That’s all I know, too.”
“But it seems to me that you have two options. You can stay in Gliverstoll, in which case the Fairfoul Witch will most certainly find you. Or you can try to leave. In which case, you have a very, very small chance of success if — and only if — Storm and I can successfully distract the Fairfoul Witch.”