Turpin prodded a sugar lump in the bowl. ‘There are ants stuck to these.’
‘They won’t hurt you,’ said Gretchen. ‘They’re dead.’
Turpin pushed the bowl away. Don looked at the ants longingly, but managed to keep his tongue in his mouth.
‘So, where were we?’ Griselda said. ‘Ah, yes. Dragon’s scales. Seven, to be precise.’ She took the lid off the jar and began picking out the iridescent scales, placing them in a stone mortar. ‘One, two, three, four . . .’ She paused and coughed delicately. ‘Six, seven.’
‘You missed out number five,’ Tanya said quickly.
‘I don’t think I did,’ Griselda said, reaching for the pestle.
‘You did, my dear,’ said Don. He batted his eyelids. ‘Please check again. For me? It’s very important.’
‘Of course,’ Griselda simpered. She peered into the mortar. ‘You’re quite right. There are only six.’ She reached into the jar and took out another scale. There was a thud from under the table and she gave a small squeak. Tanya looked at Gretchen, who was glowering at her sister, and guessed she had kicked her for admitting her deliberate mistake.
One by one the rest of the ingredients were added and, despite Griselda’s best efforts to get the quantities or order wrong, Tanya’s sharp eyes caught every mistake and she corrected her every time. By the time it came to the weighing, Gretchen’s face was like thunder and Griselda had been on the receiving end of several more none too subtle kicks.
‘Now spit,’ said Griselda, holding the bowl towards Don. Dutifully, he obeyed, and she stirred the mixture again with the chicken bone. Slowly, it became a slimy, yellowish-green in colour, much like Don himself. ‘Good,’ Griselda nodded.
‘That means it’s working.’ She spooned out a stiff lump of the sludge and dolloped it on one side of the scales. They remained equally balanced.
‘Are those scales working?’ Tanya asked. ‘Only normally the heavier side goes down.’
Griselda scooped up the rest of the mixture and put it on the other side of the scales. Even though one side clearly contained more, they still didn’t move. ‘Of course they’re working. You think I’d be using them if they didn’t?’
‘But—’
‘Listen, clever clogs,’ Gretchen snapped. ‘They always look perfectly balanced. We’re in an inbetween, remember? The scales will always be perfectly balanced, and that’s a good thing where spells like these are concerned. It means less waste.’ She glared at Tanya. ‘You haven’t touched your tea. Drink up.’
Tanya lifted the cup to her lips and pretended to take a sip before replacing it quickly back in the saucer. Gretchen looked away, her scowl replaced by a small smirk.
‘Right,’ said Griselda. ‘I think we’re ready.’ She spooned up some of the sludge from the larger pile on the scales and splatted it on Don’s head.
‘Oooh,’ he said with a shiver.
‘Now just relax,’ Griselda cooed, her voice suddenly much lower. ‘Let me rub this in for you.’ She grabbed Don’s clammy toad fingers and began massaging them between her own. ‘How does that feel?’
‘Oooh,’ said Don again.
Griselda’s snout twitched out a little snort of happiness. ‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘Sensuous . . .’
‘Um, not exactly,’ Don said. ‘It’s rather cold, that’s all.’
‘Let me do it,’ said Gretchen jealously. ‘Sensuous, my beard. I’m more sensuous when I’m basting a turkey!’ She took Don’s other leg and began working the sludge over the mottled, green skin.
‘We’ll both do it!’ Griselda screeched, pulling back on her side and rubbing vigorously. Tanya and Turpin watched, helpless, as poor Don was yanked this way and that in a gloopy tug of war.
‘Ha! Ha! That tickles! Oh . . . um, I don’t think you should . . . I mean, maybe I should do that part? It’s just—CRIPES! Not there, woman! Let go! LET GO!’ he yelped. ‘I’ll do it myself!’ Somehow, he managed to extract himself and backed away, continuing to rub the horrible slushy mixture over himself.
‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Griselda hissed at her sister. ‘You always have to take things too far, don’t you?’
‘Me?’ Gretchen whined. ‘You started it!’
‘Ladies, please!’ Don said wearily. He blinked out of the gungy mess like a small swamp monster. ‘How long should this take?’
Griselda peered at him. ‘Are you sure you’re completely covered?’
‘Completely,’ said Don, looking very sorry for himself.
‘Oh.’ Griselda blinked. ‘Then it hasn’t worked.’
‘What? But it has to,’ Don protested. ‘Are you sure you did it right?’
‘Yes,’ said Griselda.
Gretchen muttered something. It sounded like ‘Unfortunately’.
Tanya watched Griselda closely. She was positive the spell had been followed correctly, and Griselda’s disappointment seemed genuine. She took pride in her spells, Tanya realised. She didn’t like to fail, even if it meant not keeping Don for a while longer – or permanently.
Gretchen wrung her hands. ‘Then I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done. Dearest Donald will have to remain a toad. And it’s so dangerous for magical creatures, back in the human world. But here with us you’d be safe. We’d look after you . . .’
Don shook his head, his eyes wide with horror. ‘No!’ He crawled over to Griselda, tugging at her sleeve. ‘There has to be something else you could try! You said you could undo it!’
Griselda hesitated. ‘It’s very dark magic. Much stronger than I thought. And there’s something . . . familiar about it.’
‘Please,’ Don croaked. ‘It’s not just for me. My son’s life is at stake – I must return to my true form before I get to him.’
Griselda wiped her snout and sighed. ‘There is something. A spell to undo darker magic.’
‘No,’ said Gretchen. ‘No, there’s no such spell!’
‘Quiet,’ her sister snapped. ‘You know quite well that there’s the Moon spell.’ She took a cloth and began wiping the sludge from Don’s skin. ‘The moon is a powerful symbol of trickery and lies. To cast them out, the timing of this spell is crucial. I can prepare the potion for you, but it must only be drunk when the moon is visible.’
‘Is there anything that would work faster?’ Tanya asked.
‘Not of this strength,’ Griselda replied. ‘And, if the Revelation spell failed, I believe this has the best chance.’
‘We’ll take it,’ Don said. ‘As soon as it’s ready, and then we should be on our way.’
‘Oh, but you must stay until it’s time to drink it,’ Gretchen implored. ‘We have to make sure it works after all.’
‘I’m afraid we can’t,’ Don said firmly. ‘We must get back. There are preparations to make. And if you say it’s the best chance then I’ll take your word for it. Now, I have very little fey money to pay you with, but I do have some four-leaf clovers which I understand you can make use of?’
Griselda’s eyes lit up, but she waved her hand. ‘No charge for old friends,’ she said.
‘No, really,’ said Don. ‘I insist.’ He nodded at Tanya and she rummaged in the rucksack for the red envelope and pulled out the clovers. Griselda swooped on them greedily, nudging her sister.
‘Fetch a jar, Gretchen,’ she urged. ‘Let’s keep these beauties fresh! Gretchen?’
Gretchen hadn’t moved. She was sitting very still, watching her sister with an expression like that of a bulldog chewing a wasp. Her eyes were pinched tight, her jaw was grinding, and even her beard looked fiercer. Her face grew steadily red, then purple. Without warning, her fist smashed down on the table, jogging the teacups and sending the mice in her hair into a frenzy of squeaks.
‘You’ve ruined everything!’ she bellowed at Griselda. Her nails scratched the table like claws, and little white sparks flew out from her fingertips. ‘This was our chance, don’t you see? We could have kept him, forever! But you’re so selfish you had to show off and do it right!’
‘You’re the selfish one!’ Griselda roared. ‘Willing to deny us his beauty just to keep him here!’ She turned to Don, her eyes blazing. ‘Wanted to keep you as a toad, she did! Thought you’d be too unhappy to go back and would stay with us for good!’
‘Um . . .’ said Don, but for the first time the two sisters were too caught up in their angry exchange to listen to him.
‘Well, I’ve got news for you, Gretchen,’ Griselda declared. ‘True love isn’t all one-sided. Sometimes it’s about making sacrifices. And if that means letting him go in order to be happy then so be it!’
‘Oh, and here comes the Goody-Two-Shoes act!’ Gretchen jumped up from the table. ‘Not that it matters with a face like yours!’
Griselda stood up with a snort. Red sparks flew from her snout. ‘You and me both, dear sister!’
‘Uh-oh,’ said Turpin.
Tanya sat frozen between the pair of them, unsure of what to do or what was about to happen.
‘Ladies, please calm yourselves,’ Don said. ‘It’s so ugly when sisters fight.’
‘You said it, mister!’ Gretchen shrieked. ‘And it’s going to get uglier still!’
‘Is that a threat?’ Griselda said, her voice dangerously low.
Gretchen cackled. ‘It’s a promise, dearie!’
‘Then bring it on!’ Griselda blew into her hands and rubbed them together. Blue smoke rose from her palms and, as she pulled her hands apart, a swirling, cloudy ball was suspended between them in mid-air.
‘Yikes,’ said Turpin.
‘Fancy some new teeth?’ Griselda said wickedly. ‘To fit that big mouth?’ She flung the smoky ball in her sister’s direction. It exploded on impact with Gretchen’s head and, as the smoke cleared, two huge tusks were visible protruding from her mouth.
‘Fiend!’ Gretchen ran to the fireplace, scooping out a ball of flame with her bare hands. ‘How about some dead man’s fingernails?’ she lisped through the tusks. ‘Nice and hard and crispy, to help you scratch those fleas of yours?’ She hurled the ball of flame back across the room.
‘Duck!’ shouted Turpin, grabbing Tanya and pulling her down as Gretchen’s triumphant laughter filled the air. They crouched under the table. ‘Stay here,’ said Turpin. ‘Turpin must get Don!’ She scrambled back on to the table amidst the shouted curses of the two sisters, returning a moment later with the toad in her arms.
‘Now what?’ Tanya asked. ‘How do we make them stop all this?’
A second ball of blue smoke flew over their heads and a pungent stench of strong cheese filled the air. ‘Have some cheddar breath!’ Griselda yelled. ‘That’ll keep your mice happy!’
Don shook his head. ‘I was afraid it would come to this. I always seem to bring out the worst in them. Once they start, there’s no stopping them.’
‘But we have to,’ said Tanya. ‘We can’t leave with you still as a toad! We have to get them to perform that spell.’
‘Don is right,’ said Turpin. ‘Have seen this many times before. We must leave, now, before one of us ends up in the firing line.’
A second ball of flame ripped over their heads, blasting across the table and shattering the teacups into smithereens.
‘At least we don’t have to worry about drinking the tea,’ Don said gloomily.
Turpin pointed to the door they had been shown in through. ‘Get ready to run,’ she said.
‘No,’ Tanya said. ‘We came here for help and I’m not leaving until we get it.’
‘Are you blind?’ Turpin demanded. ‘These two are stark raving mad! They’ll be at it all night now – we’ll never get them to do the spell!’
‘Then I’ll do it myself,’ said Tanya. Don gaped. ‘But . . .’
‘You heard Griselda. She said I have magic in my blood. That means I can perform the spell. We just have to know what to do and what to use.’ She waited for the next missile from Griselda to fly across the table, then reached up and heaved the heavy spell book down on to her lap. ‘Griselda said it was a Moon spell,’ she said, thumbing through the pages. ‘If we can find it, then it’ll tell us the ingredients . . .’
‘Crow’s feet!’ Gretchen yelled above them.
‘Then hurry,’ said Don. ‘Every moment we stay here we’re putting ourselves in danger.’ Before he had even finished speaking, the table shattered into splinters, sending them scrambling in opposite directions. Turpin took cover behind a huge cauldron, while Tanya and Don hid behind a moth-eaten armchair.
‘Moon, moon, moon,’ Tanya said to herself, flicking through the pages of the book. ‘Moon Mischief and Muddles . . . Moon Mayhem, Murder by Moonlight . . . None of these say anything about undoing a curse!’
‘Try “lunar”,’ Don suggested.
‘Oh.’ Tanya flicked back a section. ‘Lunar Love . . . Lunar Labyrinth . . . wait, I think this is it – Lunar Lies and False Disguise!’ She ran her finger over the crabbed words. ‘It’s some sort of spell to alter a person’s appearance, but under that there’s an antidote to change someone back to their true form.’ She read quickly. ‘To be performed in sight of the moon. This must be it.’ She looked up cautiously, but needn’t have worried. The sisters’ war was still in full flow, and above their screams there was no way the delicate tear of the page could be heard as Tanya ripped it out of the book.
‘Turpin!’ she hissed. ‘Can you get me these ingredients? Moon dust, a liar’s tongue, a caterpillar, a fox’s whisker, a thread from a hangman’s rope, powdered chameleon . . .’ She paused. ‘We also need an egg, a mirror and a playing card, but I can get those back at the cottage.’ She looked up again, gesturing to the shelves. ‘Go, quickly, and be careful!’
Turpin zipped off in the direction of the shelves, grabbing jars and piling them up in her arms. One by one, ducking and diving through the sisters’ shrieked curses, she rolled the jars and bottles to Tanya, who checked them off the list and bundled them into her waiting rucksack. Between the snatches of cargo, she and Don watched – Don through his fingers – as the sisters threw every hex they could think of at each other.
Griselda was now struggling to walk, forced to teeter unsteadily on two great crow’s feet that snagged her dress and caught in its hem, while Gretchen was also clumsy on two cloven hooves, not helped by the fact that her beard was now three times longer and wrapped round her legs.
Two more jars rolled towards Tanya and she snatched them up. ‘That’s almost everything. Well done, Turpin!’ she called. ‘Now all we need is the liar’s tongue.’ She watched anxiously as Turpin ran up the ladder like a rat into a pantry, gathering up several more jars. ‘What is she doing?’ she asked Don in confusion. ‘We only need one more thing on the list – she’s carrying at least three!’