Spooky Spindle Read online

  Meanwhile, to my great relief, Lizzie wasn’t anywhere near as good at flying as she had thought she’d be. In fact, she was downright awful. It hadn’t taken long for Cookie to realize that Lizzie needed a third owl, and talent. At least an owl could be supplied to help her balance and make it less likely that she’d fall off her broom.

  “This broom is so ugly. And old. Isn’t there something prettier?” Lizzie made the mistake of asking my grandmother when we were done.

  At least she hadn’t asked for the cutest owl.

  Which was good, because Cookie and the owl would have raced to kick Lizzie if she had been that foolish.

  As it was, Cookie fixed her with a cold stare. “You can have the best broom in the world and you’d still be terrible at using it. Only good witches earn the good brooms.”

  “What does a good broom look like?” Pep asked.

  “Most good brooms are ebony,” said Cookie. “You need something hard in case you crash. As Lizzie would surely do. They are also smooth, to make them more aerodynamic. I have a couple in my apartment. You and Kip can try them sometime.”

  As soon as we had all landed safely, Grant came over to congratulate us. Lizzie was clearly fuming about what my grandmother had said. She didn’t like Cookie putting her in her place. She really wanted a pretty broom.

  “I’ll show you that I can fly,” Lizzie suddenly cried.

  Cookie and the rest of us turned surprised eyes in her direction. Even though she was annoying as all get out, Lizzie rarely raised her voice.

  This time was different. Without another word Lizzie reached over, grabbed the nearest broom, and waved to a couple of the owls who had stuck around.

  At the best of times I had a feeling that they liked to watch us humans and laugh; I could just imagine them making fun of our flying techniques and such. We were such awkward birds. Now I had no idea what they’d make of this especially awkward human, in a state of temper no less, trying to fly again.

  Lizzie took clumsily to the air. Cookie briefly covered her eyes, calling the flame closer to her legs. It grew a little and I hoped that meant it would throw a little extra warmth around.

  I met Grant’s eyes briefly and found their blue depths sparking with amusement. He smiled at me. I smiled back. Grant got along well with Cookie, much better than anyone in her family did. Between Cookie and Lizzie he was enjoying the situation immensely.

  Lizzie was now trying to fly through the air with the help of three owls who had reluctantly come to join her, keeping their distance as carefully as they dared.

  “Stay away from the mansion, the cliff, and all the other buildings,” Cookie bellowed. Lizzie appeared to sneer at her order.

  Cookie shook her head and we all watched as Lizzie dipped and swerved, rising ever higher.

  “She’s going to do it,” said Cam, craning his neck upward.

  “There’s absolutely no way this is going to end well,” said Lark.

  Lizzie looked a lot like a car that kept starting and stopping. She was shaking wildly in the air, so that every moment I thought she was going to plunge to the ground. Every time, she got herself under control again just before disaster struck.

  “I said stay away from the house! Don’t make me come up there,” cried Cookie.

  Lizzie was now about ten feet off the ground, weaving around in different directions. When she headed toward the cliff, we all panicked. Then she turned back toward the mansion . . . and we all panicked again.

  “If this wasn’t dangerous I’d be laughing,” said Pep as she watched our blond cousin’s unintentional capers in the air.

  “She doesn’t know what she’s doing. What does she have to prove?” Lark wondered.

  “Who knows,” I muttered.

  The owls were trying to steer Lizzie in any good direction. The only trouble was she didn’t have enough skill to follow them.

  “Maybe if I had an ebony broom none of this would be a problem,” she wailed.

  “Those are harder to steer, not easier,” said Grant.

  “Do you fly?” Kip asked him.

  Kip wasn’t remotely interested in what Lizzie was trying to do. I almost felt sorry for her, since I was sure that part of the reason she was up there making a fool of herself was to get his attention.

  “Yes, you have to learn if you join the force. I wouldn’t say I’m great at it. I always feel as though the owls are judging me,” Grant said ruefully.

  “They definitely are,” said Cookie out of the side of her mouth.

  The evening was dark and cold. I could see Audrey in the kitchen window, watching us in frustration. She had waved us inside a long time ago. Not only was dinner ready, but by this time it was probably getting cold. The union meeting would likely be ending soon. If Mom caught us all out here learning to fly, there would really be problems.

  Cookie’s eyes never left Lizzie.

  “Get down! You’ve made your point,” barked Cookie.

  “Not yet,” Lizzie yelled back.

  “Don’t make me come up there and get you,” Cookie threatened again.

  Lizzie’s reply got lost on the wind, which had suddenly picked up. As it got stronger, Lizzie started spinning so crazily that the owls broke away from her, their excellent sense of self-preservation telling them it was time to hustle away in the opposite direction.

  Now Lizzie was all alone in the air. She dipped very low and then rose again. Even from a distance I could see her white knuckles gripping the broom.

  “That’s it. I’ll get her,” said Cookie. She made to get on her broom, but the strong wind blew her off immediately and she started swearing and snarling. For a split second I thought I saw fear flash in her eyes.

  “Lizzie is getting awfully close to that barn,” said Lark.

  Indeed she was. In fact, the barn was very near the carriage house. Lizzie would be in big trouble if she crashed into either building.

  A ghost came out of the barn to watch Lizzie, looking mildly curious. I knew Lizzie was making the ghosts nervous, but I appreciated that this one was at least trying not to show it.

  “One more gust of wind . . .” Corey muttered underneath his breath. As usual he viewed this as a fascinating science experiment.

  “The wind is dying down,” I said.

  If it didn’t, it was obvious by now that Lizzie would surely crash. The owls tried to return to her, but just as they did, the wind rose up and scattered them again.

  I covered my eyes briefly, but there was no point in hiding. When I uncovered them, Lizzie was spinning crazily as the wind buffeted her right and then left. She slipped sideways on the broom, then fell the other way. The next instant she was slamming into the side of the carriage house.

  Cookie swore like I hadn’t heard her swear since she’d broken her favorite bottle of wine all over a stack of books.

  We ran for Lizzie.

  This night was definitely not going to plan.

  Lizzie had a broken arm. She was also dazed and stumbling.

  Kip, always good in a crisis, was the first to reach her. He raced over to check on her as soon as she fell. Grant wasn’t far behind, but I had the distinct impression that he preferred to leave the solving of this problem to the family.

  Kip certainly was family. He was also suddenly paying attention.

  Lizzie noticed this as well and milked it for all it was worth.

  “My poor arm! I’m in so much pain. It’s broken!” she cried.

  “Then stop moving it,” grumbled Cookie, who was at that very moment trying to stabilize it, barking orders at everyone around her as she did so.

  “Move her this way! Stand her on her feet! Give me five dollars!” Cookie cried.

  “I can’t help it. I’ll never be the same again. It’s probably broken in fifty places,” Lizzie moaned.

  “That’s actually highly unlikely,” said Lark, rolling her eyes

  But Lizzie was too busy staring at Kip to bother with Lark. For Kip’s part, he was merely examin
ing her arm, which seemed to be far more engrossing than Lizzie as a whole.

  Cam went to retrieve her forgotten broom. The owls stayed around long enough to make sure she wasn’t dead, then they stayed around long enough to make sure no one would blame them for the injury. After that they were sick of the wind and flapped away.

  Cookie’s next goal was to construct a sling for Lizzie’s broken arm. As she went about it, she muttered a bunch of indecipherable things about bandages for idiot flyers. Usually Lizzie would have taken offense at such talk, but she was too busy batting her eyelashes at Kip to pay any more attention to Cookie than she had to Lark. Kip wasn’t often this close to her, and it was plain to anyone who knew her that she was wondering why she hadn’t broken her arm sooner.

  While everyone else was fussing around Lizzie, I saw Rose the cat in the window of the mansion, glaring out at the owls, of whom she was no big fan. Even less was she pleased with being left out of the action, but I had a feeling that she didn’t mind all that much when it was this cold outside.

  “Let’s get you into the house,” Corey urged Lizzie when the sling was finally in place. He made to help her stand, but she, abandoning all pretense, demanded, “Kip can do it. And maybe Grant as well.”

  Pep made a barfing motion behind Lizzie’s back as the two requested gentlemen helped her inside.

  “If you had listened to me, none of this would have happened,” said Cookie, following the injured haunt hunter inside.

  “If I had listened to you I wouldn’t have learned how to fly,” said Lizzie.

  “Now you’re just being dramatic. And putting words in my mouth. The only thing I will allow anyone else to put in my mouth is wine,” Cookie added.

  Standing in the doorway was my mother, flanked by Audrey and Meg.

  As usual, my mother did not look pleased.

  Chapter Three

  The night was well and truly over.

  The supernaturals who had been at the meeting streamed past us. Some of them shook their heads at Lizzie, but most of them looked like they just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. I also wanted to make a fast getaway, as I always did when my mom’s face looked like that. Through gritted teeth she asked to see Cookie in her office, while Meg came over to tend to Lizzie.

  “Kip can keep helping,” said Lizzie.

  “Kip is going to eat dinner. As is everyone else,” said Meg, who was already chewing something, her meal having been rudely interrupted.

  Lizzie looked disappointed, but knew better than to argue under the circumstances. I had a sneaky feeling that the pain was getting to her as well, leaving her no more energy for asserting her wishes.

  “Grant, would you like to join us for the meal? I didn’t realize you were back,” said Audrey.

  “Sure, that’d be great,” said Grant. He glanced at me, but I was trying hard not to look at him, not wanting him to see me get excited about his presence. When I said nothing, he followed the rest of us into the kitchen.

  It was cramped in there when we all ate at once, but since we were missing several family members, there was a bit more elbow room this time. Audrey encouraged us to feed ourselves, so I grabbed a plate and piled as much pasta on it as I could, trying to ignore the fact that I was still so cold I could barely feel my fingers.

  The blast of warm air and steam that had hit my face when I’d entered Audrey’s domain had been a relief, but my hands were still trying to recover from our flying adventure.

  “Do NOT let that cat in,” I heard Audrey say from behind me.

  It was a familiar pattern. Rose tried to sneak into the kitchen, and Audrey foiled her whenever she could. I knew Rose would try again, but maybe not right this minute.

  Mr. Blacksmith, the skeleton butler, was busy doing dishes, wearing an apron of Audrey’s that said “Kissable.” I tried hard not to laugh.

  “Grant, where’ve you been this week, if you can say?” asked Kip.

  “Arizona,” said Grant. “It was warmer there. An infestation of killer coyote ghosts to deal with.”

  “How’d you get called all the way out there?” Pep asked.

  “Some of the witches in Arizona are friends of mine,” said Grant. “Well, friends of my family, at least. They asked me to come out a long time ago, but I’ve been so busy here that I haven’t been able to get away until this past week. Jason was just saying how happy he was that we’ve gone a couple of weeks in a row without any murders around here.”

  Jason was one of Grant’s deputies.

  “Yeah, Mom is hoping to keep it going for the whole month,” I put in, nodding.

  “A lofty goal,” said Grant.

  “Arizona this time of year must have been nice,” said Lark.

  “Warmer for sure. And there’s just something about the supernaturals there. More laid back. Fewer problems. They were surprised to hear about all the stuff that’s been going on here,” said Grant.

  “What stuff did they hear about?” I asked.

  Grant grimaced. Clearly he wished he hadn’t brought it up.

  “Does the Spooky Times get all the way out there?” Cam asked.

  “Its readership does appear to be spreading,” Grant acknowledged.

  The Spooky Times was Down Below’s rag newspaper, Down Below being the basement of our very own Haunted Bluff Mansion, where a group of criminal supernaturals had made their haven.

  Unfortunately, most of the nonsense the paper spouted had grains or whole stocks of truth to it. Recently it had been focusing almost exclusively on the topic of the Root of All Evil.

  The background on that story started with a vampire named Mirrorz, who had lived at Haunted Bluff Mansion for years. Mirrorz had been one of the first supernaturals to settle at the mansion, and for all those years we had thought that he was loyal to the Garbos. My family had trusted him completely; he had been Mr. Blacksmith’s predecessor in the role of the mansion’s butler.

  Our trust had been misplaced, but we only found that out when he tried to kill all of us. We also found out that he had created his own secret criminal organization. Given that we already lived above one of those, I kind of thought we had enough to deal with.

  Mirrorz wanted power, though, and he hoped in part to gather it by taking over the mansion himself. He had tried to get rid of the Garbos.

  He had failed.

  So far.

  Mirrorz called his organization the Root of All Evil. Ever since we’d successfully defended ourselves against his first attack and cast him out of Haunted Bluff, we had been trying to track down both Mirrorz and his gang.

  So far, no luck.

  Meanwhile he’d been sending cronies to try and kill Cookie. As scatterbrained as she seemed to the uninitiated, she was also the head of our household, and she wielded the most power of anyone at the mansion.

  Given how long Mirrorz had lived at Haunted Bluff, you would have thought he’d realize how indestructible she was. Apparently he didn’t, and thank goodness for that.

  The Spooky Times had been reveling in publishing all kinds of fantastical stories about the Root ever since Mirrorz had been expelled from the mansion. Some of the stories were true and some were made up. The Spooky’s readership really didn’t seem to care which was which.

  None of us had realized before tonight that the Spooky traveled far beyond the reach of tiny little Shimmerfield.

  “They think it’s lawless here in Maine,” said Grant. “They think it’s the wilderness. They aren’t worried about the Root coming all the way to Arizona, because that’s where civilized witches live.”

  “Sounds like those family friends of yours are pretty judgy,” said Cam.

  Grant smiled. “They worry about me. They think what I’m doing is a step down in the job department.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because there’s nothing glamorous about Maine. There are more supernaturals than anywhere else and they’re harder to control and more powerful. But I told them that was exactly why I h
ad to be here. I can’t just rest on my laurels in some quiet place where the supernaturals are placid and no one is haunt hunting. What your family has done here with the haunted house is magical. It’s one of a kind. Down Below is world famous. The Arizona witches thought the mansion must be empty because all the criminals would have come upstairs and stolen everything. I had to explain to them that the Garbo witches are no pushovers,” he said.

  “Neither are the warlocks,” said Cam.

  “Of course not,” said Grant.

  Chapter Four

  I had hoped to get some time with Grant that night, but unfortunately that was not to be. Corey asked all the guys to go with him to the barn and help him move some of his laboratory around, especially several large tables that he said needed to be rearranged. I was tempted to ask him why he couldn’t get the skeletons upstairs to help him, since his laboratory was in the first floor of one of the estate’s barns, the second floor of which was occupied by carpentry-loving skeletons.

  Trouble was, I already knew the answer.

  If Corey asked the skeletons for help, he would owe them, and no one liked to owe a skeleton a favor. So all the guys bundled back up as soon as they’d finished eating: coats, gloves, jackets, hats and scarves were dug out again, and Corey led them out into the night.

  Before he left, Grant stopped briefly to speak to me. We weren’t alone, but I did my best to pretend that the rest of my family had disappeared.

  “Can I see you tomorrow?” he said.

  “Of course. We live together. I mean . . .” Of course I’d gone and said something awkward again.

  “You live in the same place,” Lark supplied helpfully from nearby.

  “You remind me again that you’re here and I’ll sneak down and turn all the ice cream machines on for you,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Point taken,” said Lark.

  “When are you free?” Grant asked, the twitch of a smile showing that he was enjoying yet more Garbo family entertainment.