Witch Wars Read online

  ‘Witches usually travel by cleaning equipment,’ Peggy hurriedly explained. ‘You know, brooms, hoovers, small feather dusters under each foot …’

  ‘And cleaners,’ said Aggie Hoof. ‘Karen is my cleaner, so I travel on her, obviously.’

  ‘She’s the only one who does that …’ Peggy said.

  Fran finished scribbling Felicity Bat’s and Aggie Hoof’s names in the air and chuckled as glittery dust exploded everywhere.

  Felicity Bat rolled her eyes and muttered, ‘She’s such a glittery ball of boring happiness.’

  ‘Ladies,’ Fran said with a smile, ‘it’s getting late – we must get to the rules. This way!’

  Tiga watched as Aggie Hoof pushed herself to the front and tottered after Fran, closely followed by Felicity Bat and the others. Peggy nudged Tiga forward. ‘Come on, Tiga. You don’t want to be left behind.’

  Down the corridor they went, past statues and door after door, until they reached a really small one. Behind that lay another long corridor lined with more statues and doors. They went through an even smaller door that led to a room lined with thousands and thousands of grey books. Shimmering black ladders stretched from floor to ceiling.

  Fran soared through the air to the ‘W’ section and pushed a book.

  ‘And now,’ she said, ‘I give you, THE RULES!’

  The bookcases began to shake and, with a bang, all the grey books changed colour. Deep turquoise, bright orange, delicious purple – all with beautiful patterned spines.

  ‘This is the only colour that remains in all of Sinkville,’ said Fran with a sigh.

  The eight witches stood with their mouths hanging open.

  ‘I’ve never seen colours like this before,’ said Peggy, taking a step towards the books. ‘I’ve heard about them, but I’ve never seen them.’

  ‘We have all the colours above the pipes,’ said Tiga, who was a bit confused.

  ‘Oh, we have all the colours above the pipes,’ Felicity Bat said mockingly.

  ‘During what has become known as the Big Exit,’ Fran explained, ‘some very bad witches left Sinkville forever for a new life in the world above the pipes and they took all the colour with them. But they couldn’t touch the colour in this room. These books contain all of Sinkville’s history. And they couldn’t take that.’

  ‘But why did they leave?’ Tiga asked.

  ‘No one really knows. Most witches believe it was because they wanted to terrorise the children up there. There was a trend for sneaking up the pipes and scaring them silly. Celia Crayfish went up and invented homework and Brussels sprouts, which have tortured children ever since.

  ‘Anyway, when they left, they took everything with them. It wasn’t just the colour. They took their houses and shops too. That’s why there are buildings missing all over Sinkville.’

  Tiga ran her hands across the coloured spines.

  ‘Each book you see here is the story of a witch who ruled Sinkville,’ Fran went on, slapping Tiga’s hand. ‘Every nine years, nine witches, all nine years of age, are chosen to compete in Witch Wars. The winner, one of you, will be the next Top Witch, the witch who will rule over all of Sinkville. In these books you’ll find stories about all kinds of witches: some good, some bad, some boring, but all important. The last Top Witch, Big Sue, was very nice and did many great things, like planting more trees and giving money to charity and letting bins speak again. And then there are the evil Top Witches, like Celia Crayfish.’ Fran rolled her eyes. ‘She invented Annual Present-Burning Day, the day after Christmas.’

  ‘Celia Crayfish was magnificent,’ said Felicity Bat. ‘And she was my grandmother.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Fran. ‘I’d forgotten about that. She was very good – at being dreadful.’

  That seemed to please Felicity Bat.

  ‘Every Top Witch who has ruled this place stood in this very room on the eve of their Witch Wars, knowing that, if they won, their story would end up in one of these books.’

  Fran did a series of somersaults and bowed.

  Everyone reluctantly clapped.

  ‘Now,’ she said, ‘as most of you know, the Top Witch will live here in Linden House. For years this place was a mound of mud, then a witch built a small straw hut on it. That blew away pretty quickly and someone said, “Let’s just build a massive house.” And so they did. And here we are, in the grandest residence in all of Ritzy City. Home to Sinkville’s most important artworks, its biggest staircase, its weirdest statues, and Pat the chef, who no one has seen in fifty years, but she must still be alive down there because food keeps popping up from the kitchen.’

  ‘Why choose a nine-year-old?’ asked Tiga. ‘Above the pipes they would never allow a nine-year-old to make the rules.’

  Fran soared through the air and landed on Tiga’s shoulder. ‘Nine-year-olds, my dear, see the world in a brilliant and wonderful way. And they are quite small. The smaller the person, the better they almost certainly are.’

  ‘You’re just saying that because you’re really small,’ said Aggie Hoof.

  Fran shot like a torpedo through the air and pinched Aggie’s nose.

  ‘So what exactly happens in Witch Wars?’ Tiga asked.

  Felicity Bat cackled. ‘Why do you want to know what happens, Tiga? So you can win?’

  Tiga looked sheepishly at her holey trainers.

  ‘I’m getting to that,’ said Fran. ‘Tomorrow, each of you will be presented with a shrivelled head.’

  ‘Yuck,’ said Patty Pigeon.

  ‘Wimp,’ sneered Molly.

  ‘That head keeps you in the game,’ said Fran. ‘If your shrivelled head is crushed, you are OUT. You can try to crush the shrivelled heads of your opponents if you want to knock them out, but to win you must solve four Witch Wars riddles, in order, and make it to the end of the game. Skip a riddle and the end will never appear.’

  ‘So it’s not actually a war?’ Tiga asked.

  Fran shook her head. ‘Witches used to fight to the death, but eventually someone realised that was nuts and now we just play a highly competitive game instead. But we kept the name because it’s catchy.’

  All the witches were listening intently, and nodding – apart from Felicity Bat, who had levitated up to the top shelf and was reading The Celia Crayfish Years.

  ‘Each of you will be assigned a fairy, and each fairy will carry a camera, which the team in Brollywood will use to broadcast Witch Wars to all of Sinkville. You will be watched throughout the land, so expect that everywhere you go people will know who you are. You must use your magic and your wits to make your way to the end before the other witches. There are no more rules. Some witches have won by playing fairly and others have won by cheating.’

  ‘Grandmother did that,’ said Felicity Bat, waving the Celia Crayfish book in the air.

  ‘Yes, well, she was a big, stup– oh, look at the time! We must have dinner,’ Fran chirped. ‘Back we go.’

  Felicity Bat soared through the air and shoved Peggy out of the way.

  ‘Watch where you’re going!’ Tiga shouted. She instantly realised her mistake.

  ‘Did you just yell at my Fel-Fel?’ Aggie Hoof said, stepping closer to Tiga.

  ‘I’ll handle it,’ said Felicity Bat, moving so close to Tiga that they were almost nose to pointy-warty nose. ‘You are nothing. You are a nobody from above the pipes. I’m going to knock you out of the competition first. And your little Piggy too.’

  ‘And you look stupid in those jeans,’ said Aggie Hoof. ‘Everyone is going to laugh at you. And Piggy, how old is your hat?’

  ‘It … it belonged to my great-great-great-gran,’ said Peggy, taking the dusty old hat off her head.

  ‘That’s disgusting,’ said Aggie Hoof.

  ‘You know,’ said Fluffanora, stepping into the middle. ‘You’re right, Aggie Goof, or whatever your name is.’

  ‘HOOF!’ Aggie Hoof yelled.

  ‘Right, Hoof,’ said Fluffanora dismissively. ‘The jeans are no good for Witch W
ars. Tiga, why don’t we go to my mum’s shop and get you a dress.’

  Tiga’s eyes lit up. ‘Really?’

  ‘And a new hat for Peggy,’ said Fluffanora.

  ‘THAT’S THE BEST IDEA I’VE HEARD IN ALL MY LIFE,’ roared Fran. ‘Can I come too?’

  ‘But then who will look after all the other witches?’ asked Fluffanora.

  Fran stared at the group. ‘Frogsknees. I’ll have to stay.’

  And so off the three of them went, arm in arm to Brew’s, as Felicity Bat and Aggie Hoof huddled together and whispered like evil witches making a terrible, terrible plan.

  Linden House grew darker and the huge chandeliers that hung low from the ceilings flickered into life as Tiga stepped out on to the bustling street. The air was warm and all along the road little lanterns floated about next to the towering buildings. Glamorous, chattering witches glided past and the little cafés that lined the streets were full to the brim with witches eating and laughing and a witch who had just fallen off her chair.

  The one thing Tiga had really wanted to do since hearing about it was to see inside Brew’s. She clutched Peggy’s arm and grinned.

  ‘Don’t get excited,’ Fluffanora said. ‘It’s nothing special.’ She climbed the white marble steps and slotted a little black key into the lock.

  When the door swung open, Tiga’s mouth swung open too. Brew’s was huge. It was sparkly. It looked like an elephant-sized Fran had exploded in there.

  It was FABULOUS!

  Fluffanora glided on ahead, past hundreds of little witches dressed in black dresses. ‘They’re stocking the shelves for tomorrow,’ she called back. ‘Only I’m allowed in here this late at night.’

  To the left was a huge wall of shelves lined with beautiful shoes and over in the opposite corner was a group of witches laying out silky gloves. An old witch with a beehive of white hair was climbing a ladder on the far wall, throwing scarves down to a group of young witches wearing puffy little skirts. A tall, spindly witch sailed past Tiga on a cart filled with wide-brimmed hats. She waved as she passed.

  Fluffanora ran along the rails of clothes, throwing dresses into the arms of one of the assistants.

  ‘Don’t forget to put the new umbrellas out!’ someone cried from behind Tiga. ‘We have some special customers from Brollywood visiting tomorrow.’

  ‘Will someone unpack the crystal handbags?’ shouted another.

  Tiga turned to find Fluffanora standing right behind her, holding a beautiful black lace dress. Next to her stood an assistant. Well, Tiga thought it was an assistant, because she could see some little legs sticking out from under the huge pile of fancy fabric.

  ‘Yes. I think this is the one. Come on,’ Fluffanora said, holding up the dress.

  ‘So … you … don’t want any of these … no?’ came a voice from under the pile. The little legs wobbled.

  ‘Nah,’ Fluffanora said, leading Tiga towards the changing rooms. Tiga looked back and saw the little legs buckle and all the dresses land in a heap on the floor.

  ‘Peggy, go and pick a hat,’ said Fluffanora, taking the black lace frock off the hanger. Peggy nearly choked.

  ‘A hat? I thought you were just saying that so Fran would let me go with you.’

  ‘I never just say anything. Go and pick one. Take any one you like.’

  Peggy started making a weird noise; it went something like, ‘Ohfrogeeeeeeeeeeee!’ and then she bounded off towards the hat department.

  Tiga was thinking how nice Fluffanora was as the witch zipped up the dress and yanked it and pulled it.

  ‘Perfect,’ she said, spinning Tiga round to face the mirror.

  Tiga almost didn’t recognise herself. She smoothed the layers of lace on the skirt.

  ‘And now all you need is –’ Fluffanora began.

  ‘A HAT!’ Peggy cried, sliding over to Tiga and slapping a huge wide-brimmed hat on her head. Peggy was still wearing her old hat.

  ‘You didn’t find a hat?’ Fluffanora asked.

  Peggy shook her head. ‘They’re all lovely. The best hats I’ve ever seen! This one I’m wearing, I think, has bugs living in it, but my gran gave it to me, and it feels a bit special, so I might just stick with this one.’

  Fluffanora smiled at her.

  ‘What are you doing?’ came a voice behind them. Tiga spun round. The voice belonged to an older witch wearing a long polka-dot dress. She’d teamed it with a slouchy black cardigan and a massive pair of earrings. Her hair was twisted into a loose bun and secured with a paintbrush.

  ‘Oh, hi, Mum. Just getting some clothes for my Witch Wars friends,’ Fluffanora said.

  Tiga pulled the hat off her head and hid it behind her back.

  ‘Of course, dear,’ Fluffanora’s mum said, smiling at Tiga. ‘You’ll need shoes too’. She picked some black ones with little pearls and big white and grey stripes on the heels and passed them to Tiga.

  ‘Thank you,’ Tiga gushed.

  ‘You’re Tiga, from above the pipes, aren’t you? I’m Mrs Brew.’

  Tiga smiled, and almost bowed, but decided against it.

  ‘Well, this must be quite a shock!’ Mrs Brew said. ‘I hear it’s very different up there. I hope you’re enjoying it in Ritzy City?’

  ‘She is, Mum,’ Fluffanora huffed. ‘You can take a crystal handbag too, if you want, Tiga? I designed those.’

  ‘Ah,’ Peggy said, looking worried. ‘About them. You see, in my excitement to get to the hats, I’m so sorry but I might have broken a few of those … and by a few I mean somewhere in the region of twenty.’ She pulled a sort of ‘oops’ face.

  Mrs Brew, much to Tiga’s relief, laughed.

  ‘Why don’t you all go to Clutterbucks?’ Mrs Brew suggested.

  ‘What’s Clutterbucks?’ Tiga and Peggy said at the same time.

  Fluffanora and Mrs Brew smiled at each other.

  ‘Clutterbucks it is,’ said Fluffanora. ‘But first, Tiga … could I try on your jeans?’

  ‘Maybe we should go back to Linden House,’ said Peggy. ‘It’s getting late.’

  ‘NEVER!’ cried Fluffanora, skipping down the street in her jeans.

  Tiga laughed and raced after her. ‘Come on, Peggy!’ she called back.

  As Peggy came lolloping along behind, Tiga realised something. Ritzy City was the best place on Earth. (If it was somewhere on Earth.) And she wanted to stay.

  All the Witch Wars stuff, the fighting, the cackling, the Felicity Bats, had made Tiga worry that Ritzy City was not the place for her. But she loved this.

  Fluffanora weaved in and out of the crowds of witches, who were all very amused by her jeans. And Tiga skipped along next to her in her dress and massive hat and for the first time felt like a proper Ritzy City witch.

  They took a sharp left down an alleyway that at first seemed like a dead end. But hidden in the shadows was a tiny door and an even tinier window. Fluffanora knocked seven times then drummed her fingers once, and then knocked one final time.

  A plump, rosy-cheeked witch in a huge wide-brimmed hat flung the door open.

  ‘Fluffanora! You’re here! SOMETHING HAS HAPPENED TO YOUR LEGS!’ she cried.

  ‘Jeans, Mrs Clutterbuck. It’s the fashion above the pipes.’

  Mrs Clutterbuck raised an eyebrow. ‘Beans?’

  ‘JEANS,’ said Fluffanora. ‘Anyway, we’re all doing that stupid Witch Wars thing tomorrow and could really do with a Clutterbucks. These are my friends, Peggy and Tiga.’

  ‘Witch Wars, you say? Well, come in! Come in, dears!’

  Behind the little door Tiga expected to see a tiny cave of a place – maybe some wooden tables and chairs, but instead a huge white light spelling out CLUTTERBUCKS swung from the ceiling, and all up the old wonky walls were ornate tables and chairs that looked as if they were floating.

  Witches cackled and laughed and drank out of elaborate glasses, and steam billowed and puffed from little machines dotted about the place.

  ‘Clutterbucks is a secret café – only i
mportant fashion people are allowed inside. They make the best bubbly drinks in town and some very excellent cakes,’ Fluffanora explained. ‘These two have never been here before,’ she said to the witch who was showing them to their seats.

  Tiga looked back at Peggy and laughed. Her eyes were huge, her mouth was open, her hands were smacked against her cheeks.

  Over in the corner, Tiga saw a group of witches having fun waving their hands and changing the colour of another witch’s skirt, from black, to white, to grey …

  ‘Oooh, grey is nice,’ they said.

  … To spotty, to stripy, to INVISIBLE.

  The witch covered her frilly pants with her hands. ‘Stop that!’ she yelled.

  The witch waitress led them up some winding stairs and pointed at one of the tables floating nearby. ‘We float ’em so we have more space,’ she said, handing them each a menu.

  Tiga pulled a chair over and sat down shakily. It wobbled and tipped from left to right. She grabbed her hat with one hand and steadied the chair with the other.

  Peggy leapt on to her chair with such force that it spun madly in a circle, sending her hat flying across the room and straight into someone’s cake.

  ‘So sorry,’ Peggy mouthed across the room.

  Fluffanora just sat down.

  CLUTTERBUCKS

  Makers of the best bubbly drinks since

  winks were invented

  Ritzy Original – 5 sinkels

  The Witching Whirl – 8 sinkels

  Flat-Hat Fizz – 6 sinkels

  The We-Hate-Celia-Crayfish Cocktail – 6 sinkels

  Witch Wars Mix – 5 sinkels

  The Big Exit Bubble Mix – 5 sinkels

  Brilliant Big Sue Supreme – 8 sinkels

  BOOM* – 9,000 sinkels

  *WARNING: This drink transports you back in time for ten minutes to Ritzy City a hundred years ago. (Two hundred years ago if you drink it through your nose.)

  Mrs Clutterbuck appeared at their table carrying a tray of glasses filled with a shimmering black liquid, each with a huge striped straw.

  ‘Here you go, dears! Enjoy your Clutterbucks! I thought you’d like the Witch Wars one,’ she said with a wink. ‘Your snack,’ she added, nodding at a massive three-tier cake that was wobbling through the air, ‘is on its way.’