Читать книгу ElsBeth and the Privateer, Book II in the Cape Cod Witch Series - J Bean Palmer - Страница 9

That evening, after another double work assignment, during which even she would have to admit her penmanship had improved nicely, ElsBeth again wound up in the garden with Bartholomew.

The huge frog leaned back against the maple tree, deep in thought. ElsBeth sat on the green garden stool and looked at her friend.

Before she said anything, the frog croaked sympathetically, “I know, Ms. Finch isn’t fair.”

ElsBeth was taken by surprise. “How did you know what happened, Bartholomew?”

“Sylvanas,” Bartholomew replied. No further explanation was needed.

ElsBeth and everyone else with the slightest magical perception for miles around were quite aware that Sylvanas was a compulsive gossip and meddler. Of course he would have passed on this juicy tidbit.

“Yes, well, she isn’t fair. What can I do, Bartholomew? I want to go to Boston. I’ve never been off Cape and everyone is going.” ElsBeth whined, quite unbecoming in a witch.

Bartholomew understood, though. “Don’t worry, little one. Ms. Finch won’t actually keep you here. She just enjoys making you and the other students feel upset. Unfortunately some people are like that.

“But I need to warn you,” the frog continued. “Not everywhere is like Cape Cod. There are things you will see in Boston that could frighten you. It is an old place — with many kinds of disturbing magic there.” He snapped out his tongue at a nearby mosquito.

What was happening here? Bartholomew had never before cautioned her about anything. ElsBeth knew he frowned upon cowardice above all else.

“What do you mean, Bartholomew? What should I be afraid of?”

Bartholomew just shook his head. “Nothing, little one, really. You should never walk in fear. But it is wise to pay attention when the storm clouds gather and the enemy grows strong.”

ElsBeth felt her eyebrows shoot up and wrinkle her forehead, completely confused.

“Just pay attention and you’ll be fine,” the frog summarized, in a tone that said that was that.

Now ElsBeth wondered what she was supposed to pay attention to. She looked at Bartholomew in the fading light. The frog sat very still, and for just a moment she saw him again as the handsome Native American prince he had once been. And his now deep brown eyes held many secrets.

ElsBeth blinked twice, and once more there was only a simple, though exceptionally large, green frog leaning against the tree.

Reminded of Bartholomew’s true nature, she felt better somehow after their little talk. She smiled at him and headed off for supper.

But as she skipped up the path toward the house, dark clouds swept in fast and low from the ocean. Very fast. Faster than fast.

The pink and lavender Victorian house, with its fancy curlicues, glowed in the sunlight that shined through towering storm clouds. Lightning played to and fro. ElsBeth stopped and stared.

Weather was unpredictable on the Cape, but she had never before seen a storm move in like this.

A fat drop of rain splashed on her nose, and in a moment she was drenched. She scooted up the steps onto the wide pine planks of her front porch and looked back.

Outlined by the lightning against the dark clouds was the faint form of a face. It reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t think who it was. She stood there dripping and puzzled over the image. Then the wonderful smell of Grandmother’s cranberry-orange bread pudding caught her.

She turned. “Grandmother, you made my other favorite!”

ElsBeth’s grandmother held a bowl of golden pudding with bits of red and orange fruit sticking out on top, and suddenly all else was forgotten.

“Yes, ElsBeth, I thought we should have a special dinner. And after that we need to talk.”

ElsBeth was too interested in pudding to notice the serious tone in her grandmother’s voice.

After dinner ElsBeth completed her homework and her chores. (Even witches have to do chores every day.) Then she and Grandmother curled up in the living room.

A small fire crackled. The welcoming scent of cedar perfumed the room. The evenings were still cool, and a fire took the chill off.

They settled in comfortable, faded-blue wing chairs by the fireplace and sipped their cocoa, ElsBeth’s steaming from her favorite bat mug and Hannah’s in the big green cup that looked a little like Bartholomew.

“ElsBeth, you come from a long line of accomplished witches. We’ve talked about this before, but as a witch you have certain duties. You know we are responsible to see that the villagers and the animals and the plants are looked after, that the weather is kept somewhat under control, and that the magical creatures in our area are safeguarded. Those are our most important duties.”

“Yes, Grandmother,” ElsBeth replied earnestly.

“Well, ElsBeth, I know you are hoping to go to Boston. This is difficult for me to explain, but there hasn’t been a respectable witch in Boston for over two hundred years.

“There are all kinds of troubled ghosts, ghouls, goblins and restless spirits there. The city is really out of control — magically speaking.

“No one really knows why, but even the most skilled witches can’t seem to stand more than a day in the city before they just go mad.

“In fact, that’s why all the Boston witches moved back to Salem. It’s a mystery no one’s been able to solve. And believe me, many of us have tried over the years.

“Now, I know you have your heart set on going with the class on this field trip. And I know you’d only be in the city itself for a few hours. But I’m concerned.

“What with the fairy situation, and the recent storms here on the Cape, and … well … everything else, I have my hands full right now. I just don’t think I can be worrying about you in Boston, too.”

ElsBeth was crushed. Did this mean Grandmother would not sign the permission slip?

Then suddenly her grandmother stopped speaking and looked muddled again.

And, happily for ElsBeth, no more was said about the subject that night.

But later in her little captain’s bed, snug in her pink bat pajamas, ElsBeth was, for the first time in her life, upset with her grandmother.

How could she even imagine not letting me go on this trip? ElsBeth began thinking up arguments she could use to change her elder’s mind. ElsBeth had to get her grandmother to stop worrying. She could handle the trip. She just knew it.

ElsBeth glanced out the window at the clouds that were passing in front of the moon. She saw Professor Badinoff fly by, his wide wings creating an inky shadow that chased over the ground. She wanted to discuss this difficult situation with her friend and teacher.

“Professor!” she called out. But he was too far away.

ElsBeth’s mind went round and round on the sticky problem.

“What should I do?” she whispered over and over again, as she fell into a restless slumber.