Hugo and Abigail stared at each other.
“Did that just happen?” Abigail asked.
Hugo nodded. “I’m supposed to be deployed in the morning, but instead I’m to go ask Jasper to take me to find Thor to ask him for his hammer to save mankind here in Orkney. That doesn’t sound crazy, does it?”
Abigail grinned. “Completely. I’ll find Madame Hestera and tell her what I suspect and insist on going along.”
“Sounds like an adventure.” Hugo’s eyes glowed with excitement. “I think I’ll pay a visit to Professor Oakes—see if he knows anything about Thor or Jotunheim that might help.”
Abigail patted his arm. “Be careful, Hugo. This is a dangerous game we’re playing. It could all go wrong. Madame Hestera could have you thrown into the dungeon, or worse.”
“I’ll be fine. You worry too much. I’ll see you in the morning at first light.”
Abigail watched him go, unable to stop a tremor of apprehension from running up her spine.
Chapter 5
As Abigail hurried back to her room, a sliver of hope lodged in her heart. Maybe, just maybe, they would find a way to fix things once and for all. The thought put a smile on her face.
“Don’t you look happy,” an oily voice rasped.
Abigail jolted to a stop.
From behind a mulberry tree, the familiar figure of Vertulious emerged, as though he’d been lurking there, just waiting for her to come along.
Abigail curtsied. “Master Vertulious, how might I help you?”
He waved a hand. “Call me Verty, Abigail. We are on familiar terms, are we not? What puts that spring in your step?” His eyes probed her keenly.
“I just had an idea how to guarantee I’ll be Head Witchling of the secondlings,” she rattled off. “Nothing that would interest a master witch such as yourself.”
He seated himself on a stump and straightened his robes. “Don’t be modest, Abigail. Everything about you interests me. And you’re lying,” he added, waggling a finger at her. “If you want to be Head Witchling, all you have to do is ask.” He snapped his fingers, and a gold T-shaped pin appeared on Abigail’s chest. “See? I can make whatever you wish come true. Tell me, what is it you wish?”
He fixed her with a hypnotic stare. She swayed, suddenly wanting to blurt out the truth, but instead she clenched her fists and dug her nails into her palms. The stinging pain snapped her out of it.
She pulled the pin off and held it out to him. “What I wish is to pass all my classes with flying colors—especially Magical Maths, because Madame Vex is so hard. Can you help with that?”
Vertulious stared a moment longer, then his face darkened. “I don’t know why you don’t trust me, Abigail. I have done nothing but offer my help.” The pin in her hand turned to dust.
Abigail choked back her response. Vertulious was a lying, two-faced, power-hungry troublemaker. She bit her tongue and smiled sweetly. “Was there anything else, Master Vertulious? I’m just headed to my room to finish my studies.”
He waved a hand, dismissing her. “That will be all. That was fine work in class today,” he added as she skipped off. “I can’t wait to train our pet Omera to be the leader of our new winged army.”
Abigail froze, then turned slowly.
Vertulious stood and moved to stand in front of her, tapping one finger to his chin. “I think I’ll capture one of those Omeras you’re so fond of. They will be easy to tame, I imagine, especially the young ones. They’ll lead us to more of their kind. Yes. First thing tomorrow,” he said as if he were talking to himself. He walked off through the trees, leaving her to stare after him.
She wished she could cast a spell to send him to the netherworld, but his powers were too great. Part of her wanted to rush out immediately and warn Big Mama, but her need to give a message to Madame Hestera was more urgent. She would sneak out and call Big Mama later tonight.
Abigail climbed the steps to the tower that led to Madame Hestera’s private rooms, then walked down the hall past the dusty portraits of their ancestors. The witches looked down at her with disdain, as if judging her intentions. Outside the door to Madame Hestera’s chambers, she smoothed the folds of her skirt with her hands before rapping on the door.
“Enter.”
Abigail thumbed the latch and let the door swing open.
The stuffy room smelled of dried herbs. Madame Hestera sat in front of a blazing fire. One hand grasped her emerald-tipped cane. She cast a glance at Abigail, giving a small dismissive sniff. “What do you want, witchling?”
Abigail cleared her throat. “I wanted to speak to you.”
“About?”
“Something important. To the coven.”
Hestera grunted. “Since when is this coven of importance to you?”
The words were like a lash, stinging Abigail to the core. “Since forever. And I’ll prove it. My friend. The Balfin boy Hugo. The one who was there the night Vertulious came back. He’s planning something.”
Hestera tapped the knob of her cane. “Do you think me a fool? The boy and you share a bond. You would not betray him so easily.”
“If he came between me and my coven, I would.” Abigail stepped closer. “Whatever you might believe, I am a witch first. Which means my coven comes before everything.”
The old witch pursed her pruny lips and then gave the briefest nod. “Fine. What is this boy planning, and why would it interest me?”
“He believes he can stop a war between us and the Orkadians.”
A harsh laugh escaped Hestera. “You waste my time. A mere boy cannot stop what is inevitable. You who have witnessed firsthand the power Vertulious wields should know that. With the destruction of Odin’s Stone, the Orkadians don’t stand a chance.”
“What if they had something even more powerful?”
Hestera’s grip tightened on the emerald knob. “What. Is. More. Powerful. Than. A. Witch?”
“A weapon of the gods. The hammer of Thor. I think Hugo is going to go after it.”
There was silence—the only noise the crackling of the flames. When Hestera spoke, her voice was like chipped ice. “The boy has no hope of finding a god as powerful as Thor, or asking him for his most powerful object.”
“That’s what I thought. But I think he’s hiding something. I don’t know what. He’s planning on leaving in the morning.”
“Then I’ll throw him in the dungeons,” Hestera said dismissively. “He’ll never see the light of day again.”
“But what if—” Abigail thought quickly. “What if he’s working with others. He trusts me. He thinks I’m on his side.”
The old witch’s eyes narrowed. “What are you suggesting?”
“That I go with him. Spy on him. See who he’s working with and stop him if it appears likely he’ll succeed.”
“I find it highly suspect that you have had such a change of heart, Abigail. I know the history of your mother. Your unique magic, which you continue to hide. Many thought you were the Curse Breaker until Vertulious came back.”
Abigail clasped her hands to keep them from shaking. “Yes, madame, I can’t help what I was given or who my mother was. But I can prove my worth to this coven once and for all.”