Читать книгу Moonlight Mischief - Maeve Friel, Nathan Reed - Страница 4
Оглавление“Two dandelion clocks and a hair from the tail of a big red fox.”
Jessica, witch-in-training, was busy mixing up a brew with her trainer, Miss Strega, at the hardware shop on the High Street when, out of the blue, there was a loud shout from the rooftop.
“Post!”
Jessica vaulted over the counter on her broom just as an envelope came fluttering down the chimney and came to rest on the shop floor.
“Goodness, this looks awfully important,” she said.
At the top of the envelope there was a large black crest in the form of a spider web, surrounded by the words Wishing the World Well.
“It’s a letter from Witches World Wide! And it’s addressed to both of us. I wonder what they want.”
Miss Strega stuck her wand behind her ear and took the envelope from Jessica. “I daresay they are looking for money – our annual fees or something,” she said, as she slid a paperknife under the flap and drew out a stiff white card.
“Well, slap my tummy with a wet fish!” she gasped. “It’s not a bill. It’s an invitation.”
“Yippee!” Jessica leaned over Miss Strega’s shoulder. “Go on, read it out.”
President Shar Pintake of the Witches World Wide Association is pleased to announce that The Extraordinary Moonlight Games will be held at our headquarters, Coven Garden, to celebrate the Blue Moon. Everyone is welcome.
“The Extraordinary Moonlight Games? What do they mean?”
“The Extraordinary Moonlight Games,” Miss Strega explained, “is a special competition that only takes place if there is a blue moon in the seventh month of the witch year – and that doesn’t happen very often. In fact I don’t think there have been Moonlight Games for years and years. That’s why they are Extraordinary.”
Jessica looked baffled. “I don’t understand a word you are saying. The moon is never blue when I vault over it with you. It’s usually pearly-grey or white or sometimes yellow. Are you telling me that the moon is going to turn blue and that the witches are going to play games on it?”
“Actually, sugar plum, a blue moon is what we call the second full moon in a single calendar month. And the Games, as it says here, are held at Coven Garden.”
“I see,” said Jessica, nodding in what she hoped was a clever sort of way, although she was not quite sure that she had understood. “And what sort of Games are they? Do you mean playing cards or chess? Or do you mean games like football or tennis?”
Miss Strega cupped her long chin in one hand. “No, no, perish the thought; witches don’t go in for that sort of stuff at all. It’s more of a showcase for all the magic things that we do – flying, spelling, switching, brewing, charming and chanting. There’ll be everything from extreme sports like Synchronised Moon-Vaulting to individual Charming Demonstrations.”
“Cool,” said Jessica. “So I suppose there are competitions?”
“Precisely, my little tootle pip. There will be spectacular flying displays – watch out for the Ducking and Diving Fours – and, needless to say, there will be masses of Spelling and Brewing Competitions. Dr Krank won last time with a perfect Brew for Shrinking Bullies and your old friend, the actress Heckitty Darling, brought the house down with a stunning routine of Alphabetical Witch Switches. She switched from an ant to a zebra in twenty-six moves in less than a minute. I know she is a terrible show-off but you had to take your hat off to her.”
“And are there prizes?”
“Are there prizes! Of course there are. For each event there’s the Golden Broomstick, the Silver Cauldron and the Bronze Cat. Moonlight Champion Witches are celebrities, always popping up on television, getting their photos in the papers, hobnobbing with wizards and going to the best witch parties.”
Jessica read the invitation again. “Perhaps,” she said wistfully, “there are some events that witches-in-training can enter.”
“Oh yes, indeedy,” agreed Miss Strega. “The junior section is always fiercely contested. Are you going to take part?”
“I shall have a good think about it and then decide.”
“Hunky-dory,” said Miss Strega, propping the invitation on the mantelpiece, “but you had better make your mind up soon. You don’t have much time for thinking.”
“Why not?”
Miss Strega consulted a calendar on the wall. “Because the blue moon rises . . .” her index finger moved rapidly along the dates “. . .tonight!”
