A Most Magical Girl - Karen Foxlee Page 0,80

shouted above the shrieking of the machine and the laughter of the shadowlings. “And now the small, sad daughter!”

And as he said it, the moonlight hit the moon funnel squarely and the machine made such a noise that his words were drowned out. A light filled the room. His cloak blew upward with the pull of the machine. He was turning her toward the place where he would let her go. Time slowed. She listened to her own ragged breaths. Her heart beat in her ears.

Then another noise.

A slam. A bang.

Mr. Angel turned his head toward the noise, bringing her with him.

In the doorway to the ballroom stood Hafwen.

Stout, hairy Hafwen, holding the broomstick like a walking crook. The only troll in Trollingdom with a twinkle in her eye.

And on Hafwen’s back was Kitty, with the Morever Wand in her hand.

“Let her go!” shouted Hafwen. Her voice was almost lost in the noise of that room. “Let Annabel Grey go.”

“Take them!” cried Mr. Angel, removing one hand from Annabel to wave at the shadowlings.

The dark creatures leapt down from the walls toward the pair, but Kitty opened her mouth and released a heart light. It was small and pale green. She grew it so that it was as large as them, and they were surrounded by its light. She slipped from Hafwen’s back and stood supported by the troll, with the wand in her hand.

The shadowlings skittered backward from the light, and Mr. Angel was distracted by their reluctance to follow his command. His grip lessened long enough for Annabel to break free. She pulled herself away from him just as Kitty crumpled to her knees, throwing the wand so that it raced across the ballroom floor.

Annabel rolled and crawled until she felt the wand in her hand. The lightness of it. The airiness of it. The goodness of it. But the machine, the great inward-drawn breath of the machine, seized her foot and began to drag her along the floor toward its blackness, the slits opening and shutting fast with a noise like a tent buffeted by wind.

“Help!” she screamed, and Hafwen rushed toward her. She wrenched Annabel by the hand out of the space.

Mr. Angel was coming toward them.

“Stand back!” Annabel shouted as she clambered to her feet, pushing Hafwen behind her. “Stay back.”

She raised the Morever Wand at Mr. Angel, and he raised his Black Wand in return.

“I cannot be defeated!” he shouted, and out of the Black Wand’s tip came a blast of mauve light.

Afterward, she could not say if it was her word alone that saved them. The mauve light came toward her, and she shouted the word Benignus at the same time. She shouted the word so loudly that it seemed to break the air, as though it were a force itself. It was louder than the terrible machine, mincing and grinding its sorrows; it was louder than the shadowlings, shrieking on the ceilings and on the walls. It was louder than the city, oblivious to all that was happening in the dark mansion.

Annabel Grey shouted the word Benignus. The wizards’ word. The witches’ word. The Great & Benevolent Magical Society’s word. She shouted it and knew in that instant that it meant “by good, kind magic,” “by the magic of gentle ancient wizards and gentle, kind witches,” “by the magic of the old trees and heaths and meadows,” “by the magic of girls like Kitty, heart-light singers,” “by the magic of the small folk sleeping in cemeteries,” “by the magic of old places, secret rivers, and sacred wells and springs.”

“Benignus!” she shouted, and a great golden light came from the end of the wand and met the mauve force that rushed toward her.

Kitty threw her heart light at the very same moment. She threw it from the far end of the room with the last of her strength, and all three forces collided. There was a great explosion of light, so bright that the shadowlings stood stark against the walls. They’d no sooner opened their dark mouths and claws in fright than they dissolved. They were illuminated and ended in seconds.

And in the brightness there came a thundering roar and a great galumphing of feet. Annabel saw the shape of Hafwen hurtling toward Mr. Angel. The little troll dived across the space, pushing him to the floor and into the place before the machine.

The machine caught him.

It held his ankles with its inward breath.

He looked at Annabel. He scrabbled at the floor, his