A Most Magical Girl - Karen Foxlee Page 0,32

outside.

“Quick—latch the door, Kitty!” cried Miss Henrietta.

Kitty had the latch down just as a great pressure thumped against it.

Annabel…, sighed the shadowlings outside.

Their voices slipped under the door, and Kitty backed away, her eyes on the floor. There was a thin darkness spreading through the crack.

Annabel turned back to the mirror. She felt as though she moved within a dream. She stared at her ruined face. Surely her mother had not wanted this. Surely her mother had only wanted her to learn how to look in the specimen cabinet or perhaps how to see in her glass.

But there was no choice.

Be brave.

There was no choice, and everything was changed, and everything was different.

Be good.

I am Annabel Grey, she thought. The seeing glass was tucked safe in her bodice. The map was on her and in her. The broomstick was in her hand.

I am Annabel Grey, she thought. Valiant Defender of Good Magic.

She willed herself to believe the words. She wished herself to believe the words. Oh, how she did not believe those words!

But she did not want those terrible things and Mr. Angel to take London.

“Make haste!” cried Miss Henrietta, flinging open a trapdoor beside Miss Estella’s bed.

Miss Estella had her hands outstretched to Annabel. She clutched at Annabel’s shoulders, kissed her cheek with her papery, dry lips.

“In here are the answers,” she said, touching Annabel’s head and then her heart. “This is where you will find your magic.”

Miss Estella turned to her sister. “Give her the Ondona, Hen. They will need it. I feel it.”

“She will not know how to use it,” said Miss Henrietta.

“She will know,” said Miss Estella. “I am sure of it.”

Miss Henrietta pointed the Ondona at the trapdoor. “Benignus,” she shouted, the way she had in the shop. “Benignus!”

Her face was fierce, and light erupted from the end of the wand and coated the perimeter of the trapdoor so it snapped and sparkled and sizzled white.

She thrust the wand into Annabel’s hand and herded her toward the space. Annabel peered down through the glow at a ladder that disappeared into darkness. Would the magic light burn her?

“Go!” screamed Miss Henrietta, and Annabel knelt down quickly. She tucked the broomstick under her arm and turned to feel for the ladder. She clambered onto it and watched Miss Henrietta’s solemn face.

“But you will need the wand,” said Annabel. She’d just realized it. “Against those things!”

“Go quickly,” cried Miss Henrietta. She grabbed Kitty, who was frozen, staring at the black shadow seeping under the door. She thrust her toward the ladder.

Kitty started down after Annabel, her eyes still on the spreading shadow stain upon the floor. She did not want to go, but there was no other way out of the room, away from those things.

Annabel…, whispered the shadowlings, and the sound filled the room in the draft sliding its way slowly though the crack. Miss Henrietta snapped the trapdoor shut after the girls.

It was dark.

Terribly dark.

Just a thin square of spell light up above.

Be brave. Be good.

Annabel heard Miss Henrietta cry out in a high-pitched voice. Loud words. Wild words. Magic words. She heard Miss Estella shrieking with her. Spell words. Heart words. Saving words. Annabel clambered down the ladder with Kitty. They climbed down, down, down into the darkness.

“When traveling, a young lady should always take care to wear dark clothing and to ensure a quiet and courteous demeanor.”

—Miss Finch’s Little Blue Book (1855)

Down they went into Under London. The broomstick trembled beneath Annabel’s arm as though afraid of the darkness, and Annabel trembled against the ladder because she was just as frightened. And holding a broomstick and a wand and descending a ladder and shaking all over at the same time made things very difficult. It reconfirmed in Annabel’s mind her theory that the Great & Benevolent Magical Society was very wrong indeed to have chosen her as the most magical girl.

It was a very long ladder, and Annabel’s and Kitty’s eyes adjusted to the darkness as they went. At first the bricked-in space was narrow, but halfway down, it opened out into a much larger tunnel. There, they could see the ladder plunged toward water. Far below, Annabel could see a tiny rowboat: Miss Estella’s rowboat. Oh, just the thought of her great-aunts made her want to cry.

I am the Valiant Defender of Good Magic, she told herself sternly, but her bottom lip quivered. Far above, they could hear the trapdoor begin to wobble and bang.

“Can those things get through?” Annabel asked, and the