A Most Magical Girl - Karen Foxlee Page 0,28

he continued. “Do you agree?”

“Well…,” began Annabel.

“Four, something seen in the present in another place—why, that is often very murky.”

“I see,” said Annabel.

“And finally, if someone speaks to you directly from a vision, then that person is dead or very close to death, hovering between the two worlds. Yes?”

“Oh,” said Annabel, and she felt glad that no one had ever spoken to her in one of her visions. Indeed everything was always dark or colorless and without any sound, which meant she saw into the future, she thought, and she felt quite pleased that she had remembered the rule. She smiled at Mr. Crumb. He blushed fiercely.

“Perhaps Annabel should try to see in her glass,” suggested Mr. Bell.

The wizards nodded encouragement and murmured softly.

Annabel looked at the glass that she held in the palm of her hand. She felt very self-conscious.

“Empty out your mind,” whispered Mr. Crumb. “The way Miss Vine taught you.”

Annabel wondered how they knew such a thing. She imagined her cup, which wasn’t fancy this time—more of a dark earthenware mug, which surprised her and made her shudder. She looked at her thoughts that were in it. Number one, it felt good to say truthfully that she did see things in puddles, but, too, it made her feel very afraid. Afraid like being in a blustery wind that was going to tear her feet off the ground and blow her away. Number two, there was Kitty. She was never out of mind. How she was standing there, waiting to take her back to the magic shop, even though Annabel could tell she wanted to run away. Number three, could she really be expected to go on a journey all alone to retrieve a wand? She’d never done anything like that before. She’d only been on organized expeditions and trips to the country with her mother. She felt the wizards shifting on their chairs. Her cup seemed to always be very full.

But finally she felt her mind grow quiet.

She looked into the glass.

Part of her told herself to look away, so she knew she was right. She knew she would see something. She felt the cord that joined her to the sky, even though she was indoors, inside, warm beside the fire.

She saw shadows moving in the glass. Annabel leaned closer, and a small moan escaped her lips.

It was murky in the glass, like looking through a smudgy window. There were things flying. Shadowy winged things. A swarm of them against a pale gray sky. She watched them, and she wanted to look away. She watched them and wanted to see closer. They were birds. They were men. They were shadows. Her vision took her down suddenly, as though she were flying above. In the dim murkiness she saw the dark Thames first, a jumble of streets, then the magic shop and Miss Henrietta, her blurred face looking up at the sky, her mouth opening in terror.

Annabel dragged her eyes from the glass, covered her face with her hands, and breathed one great breath.

“What did you see?” the Finsbury Wizards asked in unison.

Annabel told them.

“Her talent is strong,” said Mr. Bourne.

“She sees the immediate future well,” said Mr. Keating.

“The seeing glass and her vision may help her somewhat on her journey,” said Mr. Bell. “But time is of the essence. Mr. Angel has raised more shadowlings. His magical machine must be growing in power.”

Annabel did not like the sound of somewhat. Somewhat meant not entirely. Not exactly. If she was lucky. The Finsbury Wizards were full of somewhats and perhapses. She thought wizards should be more exacting in their magic. She had finally seen a shadowling, and she did not like the look of it at all.

“You do not seem aware, young Annabel, of the wondrous magic that is inside of you,” said Mr. Bell. “It is not your fault, of course. You have been taught to believe otherwise. But you have your seeing glass.”

Kitty sighed softly near the window.

“Your mother was once the youngest and most able—why, she had her very own wand, the Lydia,” said Mr. Bell.

“But she gave it away to the Witches of Montrouge,” said Mr. Crumb, and all the wizards shook their heads slowly.

“She turned her back on magic,” said Mr. Bell. “But she has made the proper decision and sent you to us, and in time perhaps she will come, too.”

“But…,” said Annabel. She pictured her mother far away, and her heart ached again. A real ache. She hadn’t known hearts could