Читать книгу ElsBeth and the Call of the Castle Ghosties, Book III in the Cape Cod Witch Series - Chris Palmer - Страница 5

Four-thirty the next morning at Six Druid Lane, ElsBeth sprawled half-asleep in her cozy captain’s bed. The moon still hung fat in the sky.

She listened to a ghostly sound. From somewhere far away, but not entirely in a dream, a deep, musical voice sang a curious song.

Grave dark has fell on our fair land,

And though the youngest of the clan,

You’re called to lend your spirit bright

And magic to our goodly fight.

You’ll need to make your way alone,

Through earthly storms, with heart your own.

The gifts you gain and yourself give,

Will make it true, “Clan spirits live!”

ElsBeth opened heavy eyes and reached for the dream book she kept by her bed. Grandmother said dreams could be important and she always tried to write them down. Moonlight reflected off the silver bat that dangled from the ribbon she used to mark her page.

Though she knew there was something she should write in her book this morning, she couldn’t remember what it was. Sleep had only left her with the feeling she must be extra wide-awake today.

Outside her window a shadow flicked by. Professor Badinoff, her familiar, teacher and closest friend, still flitted about in the pre-dawn dark. She wanted to ask the insightful bat if he thought it was OK for her to go on the trip today. But there wasn’t time, and he’d probably just say, “Think for yourself.” He was always encouraging ElsBeth to think things through on her own.

As much as she wanted to be good at that, she knew thinking about things wasn’t her strongest point. She preferred action. She liked to just start ... and then keep going.

ElsBeth slipped out of bed and padded down the creaky, curvy staircase. While up the stairs rose smells of cinnamon, and honey, and enchanted baking.

Odd. She hadn’t expected Grandmother to be up this early.

She stepped through the dark front hall, past the old paintings of the sea in its every mood, past the herb drying cabinet against the wall in the corner. She heard contented humming, and saw light under the kitchen door. She cracked it open.

“Good morning, ElsBeth dear.”

It was unnerving. She had planned to just scoot out. But you could never successfully disappear past Hannah Goodspell.

To the local folk her grandmother was a much-loved, somewhat eccentric gardener, who always had a healthful remedy, or a funny story, or a sweet smile for anyone who ailed, depending on what was needed.

But in the simple truth she was the oldest, most capable witch on all of Cape Cod.

“Grandmother, what are you doing up?”

“I wanted to make sure you got a decent breakfast before you went off sailing for the day.” With her back to ElsBeth she continued putting together delightful things to eat on the old slate counter.

How did Grandmother know? ElsBeth had been so careful to avoid the subject last night — without lying, of course. She’d focused and spoken mostly about little Winston Nickerson sliding down the library’s three flights of stairs on his plastic sled. There was plenty of distracting material to talk about with little Winston. But something had obviously slipped though.

ElsBeth pulled out her favorite kitchen chair, the one with the frog face carved on the back, and sat down in front of a cup of steaming hot chocolate. Between sips she managed to get out, “Oh, um, yes, Grandmother. We’re going with the boys on Uncle Preston’s yacht. Just sailing around the islands.”

“I know, dear. You don’t have much time. They’re going to try to leave early. But before you go, have some yogurt I made.” Her grandmother set down ElsBeth’s wide-rimmed bowl, the ocean-blue one with the sea creatures that floated and swam around the sides.

“I added some dried cranberries and sunflower seeds, and a taste of Mister Bottomley’s Bog Honey.”

ElsBeth realized she was hungry and dug in. But wait a minute ...

“What do you mean they’re going to leave early?” she spat out, along with a cranberry. A couple of sunflower seeds also slid down her chin.

“Well, you know the boys,” her grandmother explained as she pulled a pan of scones from the old wood-fired oven. “They don’t exactly want you and the rest of the girls with them when they’re out adventuring. They plan to leave early so they won’t have to take you.”

ElsBeth steamed and came to a boil. Her hair was a bit of a mess to start, but it now stuck out like a wheat-colored dandelion puff.

Grandmother’s green eyes twinkled. “Getting angry rarely helps, you know, my dear. Why not just finish up so you can get there in time and beat them at their own game? Much more fun, don’t you think?”

That did sound like fun. ElsBeth took two more big bites, kissed her grandmother on a flour-dusted cheek, stuck a cinnamon scone in her mouth, mumbled good-bye, and grabbed the bag packed for her lunch.

She narrowly avoided stepping on a sleeping Sylvanas, who opened one big cat eye and promptly fell back into slumberland. He smiled a toothy smile and resumed a satisfied snore.

ElsBeth figured he was probably dreaming about platefuls of homemade, cream-and-raspberry-filled doughnuts, favorites of his.

She winked at Grandfather Clock by the door on her way out. He winked back, and with suitable ceremony clanged the quarter-hour.

She dashed into the cool morning and picked up her old red bike. She called for West Wind, her reliable friend, to give her a little push, which he happily provided, whispering back he had nothing particular to do at the moment — early morning was his slow period.

And she was off.

***

ElsBeth arrived at the dock a few minutes later, just as the boys made ready to cast off.

Even before she came to a full stop she shouted up to Robert, “Not so fast. You promised to take us.”

“Too bad. You weren’t here on time. We can’t wait for a bunch of slowpoke girls.”

“That’s not true, Robert Hillman-Jones. You said five and it isn’t five yet.” Too late she remembered Grandmother’s advice about not getting mad, but that wasn’t much use now. She glared up at him.

Veronica sped in right beside her on her perfectly clean new bike, perfectly dressed in crisp navy and white, perfectly prepared for a day at sea. In other words, perfectly Veronica.

“I thought they might try something like this so I came early.” She dismounted gracefully and put her kickstand in place. “Relax, ElsBeth.”

Veronica called up to Robert in a quiet but somehow menacing voice. “You boys can’t leave without us. We’ll yell our heads off, and the people at the marina will stop you. And if they don’t, I’m calling the Coast Guard.” Veronica could threaten with the cold calculation of a Las Vegas poker player.

Thank goodness for cable TV. There was so much you could learn. ElsBeth sometimes watched championship poker at Veronica’s house. They particularly liked to practice bluffing and Veronica was really good.

Usually quick with a nasty comeback, Robert was silent, and a staring contest began.

Amy then straggled in, looking sleepy and a little confused. Lisa Lee followed, looking at her watch. ElsBeth had a perfect sense of time and knew it was exactly five.

Frankie Sylvester skidded in next, dramatically spraying sand all over the girls as he pulled in beside Veronica.

“Sorry, guys,” he said to the boys on the yacht, ignoring Veronica’s howls at the flying dirt. “Mom wouldn’t let me leave until I finished my breakfast — sourdough pancakes with maple syrup and whipped cream. I ate as fast as I could. Honest.” Bits of white creamy froth flecked the corners of his mouth, clear evidence of his speed-eating.

ElsBeth’s eyes were on Frankie but she was pulled inside Robert’s thoughts again. She really wished this wasn’t happening.

“If I let Frankie on, I’ll have to let the girls on, too. But what if ... It’s a hasty plan but ... I’m going with it.”

“Come aboard, shipmates,” he said sweetly ... which ElsBeth realized later should have been warning enough.

She started up the plank.

“No! Frankie, you first.”

Frankie shouldered his oversized backpack, no doubt filled with his mother’s delicious Italian and New England edibles. He easily pushed his big-boned frame past ElsBeth, who followed a step behind.

Just as Frankie got his weight on deck ... Robert kicked aside the gangplank.

ElsBeth hung suspended a long moment. A really long moment.

Another ability ElsBeth had recently discovered — and unlike hearing thoughts in her head, this was something she liked about being a witch — she could slow down time.

She couldn’t control this well, it mostly just happened. But when it did, she could see and do a lot more in the same time than others could. Though this, of course, was also something she didn’t talk about.

So, in a long, slow moment, ElsBeth looked back and saw that Lisa Lee had trailed behind to examine some barnacles, and had just one foot on the plank.

But with Lisa Lee’s lightning reactions, no doubt from her training as a black belt in karate, she twisted mid-air and pulled herself back onto the dock.

The rest of the girls, though, were right behind ElsBeth. So when the plank flew out, after a brief moment of suspension — with horrified and kind of funny looks on their faces — they all landed in the drink.

“Robert Hillman-Jones, you are in so much trouble.” Veronica gurgled and tread water fast, trying to keep her perfect hair from getting further messed up — all the while chewing Robert out with a mouth full of seawater.

ElsBeth sputtered, too.

But Amy had worn a long, pink summer dress and was wrapped up in her skirts, sinking fast.

“Amy’s going under,” Nelson yelled.

Like a skinny superhero, he jumped in. But weighted by sneakers, jacket and all, Nelson promptly began to sink, too.

He bobbed up, and ElsBeth saw he’d lost his glasses. Without them everyone knew he couldn’t see a thing. He disappeared again below the waves.

ElsBeth decided Nelson was in worse trouble than Amy and dived after him.

As she groped around for Nelson, she sensed motion above on the yacht. Looking up through the water she saw Johnny Twofeathers calmly kick off his boat shoes, toss his windbreaker aside, and leap off the ship’s rail in a smooth swan dive, knifing in right next to Amy — like a young Aztec god or an Acapulco cliff diver.

A moment later Johnny surfaced with her and her volumes of dress securely under his arm.

Lisa Lee took up a lobster pot pole and fished Veronica out.

All the others were safe when ElsBeth finally caught hold of Nelson. He fought her blindly but she dragged him all the way to the surface.

“Amy! I can’t find Amy!” Nelson couldn’t see that Amy was already up on the pier, looking worriedly down at him.

“She’s safe, Nelson,” ElsBeth said, but he didn’t hear. He continued to splash and hit out at her. They both went back under, sinking fast into the dark.

The air in her lungs screamed. She wasn’t ready to break the rules and use magic just yet, but almost. She dodged Nelson’s kicking feet, got behind him, and pushed up. Again they broke through.

ElsBeth gulped all the air she could while Nelson thrashed weakly, gasped and spit seawater.

From the pier Johnny tossed a life ring that perfectly lassoed Nelson, and ElsBeth guided him to safety out of the water.

With one look at his blindly blinking eyes, she knew she had to go back for his glasses. So she dived in and … OK, she broke the rules a little, and using her seventh or eight sense or whatever it was, she grabbed them away from a curious lobster.

Limp from her struggles she only barely managed to pull herself onto the pier, drop Nelson’s glasses in his lap and roll onto her back. Above her, Robert frowned down from the rail.

He seemed surprised and genuinely puzzled by all the commotion beneath him. And, oh no, she could hear his thoughts again. Loud, angry thoughts.

“I should be away on open water by now and searching for treasure. Instead I’m stuck dockside, with a bunch of wet girls to deal with. And Nelson.”

He never let enter his scheming mind that he had caused all this.

ElsBeth stood up, dripping, but with an eye on Robert. He looked out to sea, his thoughts still churning. Finally, he said the girls could come aboard.

That Veronica had continued with ever more fearful threats, and that the sun was coming up in the sky on a day made for treasure hunting, had probably urged him toward this most rational decision.

So — some wet, some dry, some mad, some even madder — the Cape crew was off.

But what was that black streak that crossed the plank just before it was pulled aboard?

Frankie swore he saw something. But when they all looked, there was nothing there.