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Marissa sprang up and Jenna raced off past Linda, heading for the door. Mouth open, Linda stopped mid chant. Marissa hurled herself at Linda, biting, kicking and screaming, Linda fell backward under the onslaught and hit her head with a craaack on the stone flagged floor.

Jenna had just got out of the door and was running down the corridor when, through the gloom, she saw the large bulk of the Witch Mother teetering on her tall, spiked shoes, blocking the far end of it.

“Marissa, is that you?” the Witch Mother’s suspicious voice called out of the dark. “What’s going on down there?”

Trapped, Jenna hurtled back to the scullery, slammed the door and leaned against it, holding it shut. Marissa was sitting on Linda and, as far as Jenna could make out, trying to strangle her. At Jenna’s return she looked up in surprise.

“She’s coming,” gasped Jenna.

Marissa stared at her, uncomprehending. “Who’s coming?”

“Her. The Witch Mother.”

Marissa went pale. She had assumed that when Linda had tried to Exit her, she had been acting on the Witch Mother’s instructions. She leaped up from Linda—who gave a small moan, but did not move—and pointed at the door that Jenna was leaning against. Jenna squared up for a fight, but a fight was the last thing on Marissa’s mind. “Lock, Stop and Bar!” she shouted. A small but definite click came from the door.

“It won’t last long,” said Marissa, “not against her. We’ve got to get out of here.” She headed for the only window in the dingy scullery, which was set high above a table heaped with a pile of black cloth. Marissa leaped up onto the table and pushed the window open. “It’s the only way out. There’s a bit of a drop but it’s a soft landing. Here, put this on.” Marissa picked up the pile of black cloth and threw it at Jenna, who ducked. It landed on the floor beside her.

Marissa looked annoyed. “Do you want to get out or not?” she demanded.

“Of course I do.”

“Well, those are your witch robes. You’ve got to put them on.”

“Why?”

Marissa sighed impatiently. “Because you won’t get out if you don’t. The window’s Barred to all Cowan.”

“Cowan?”

“Yeah. Cowan. Non-witches. Like you, dumbo.”

The door handle rattled. “Marissa?” came the Witch Mother’s voice. “What’s going on in there?”

“Nothing, Witch Mother. It’s fine. Nearly done,” Marissa called out. “Put them on—quick,” she hissed to Jenna. “There’s enough witch stuff in them to fool a stupid window. Hurry!”

Jenna picked up the robes as though she were picking up a shovel of cat poo.

The door handle rattled again, louder. “Marissa, why is the door Locked?” The Witch Mother sounded suspicious.

“She got out, Witch Mother. But it’s okay. I’ve got her. Nearly done!” Marissa trilled out cheerfully. To Jenna she whispered, “Are you going to put them on or not? Because I’m going right now.”

“All right, all right,” whispered Jenna. They were only clothes, she reasoned. Wearing witches’ robes didn’t actually mean anything. She threw the musty black cloak over her head, pulled it down over her own red robe and quickly did up the buttons.

“Suits you,” said Marissa with a grin. “Come on,” she beckoned Jenna up onto the table, and Jenna scrambled up. Marissa opened the window and the cold, sleety night air blew in. “Put your arm out,” she said.

Jenna went to put her arm out but her hand came up against something solid, which felt like congealed slime. “Yuck!” she gasped, and snatched it back.

The Witch Mother had surprisingly good hearing. “Marissa?” came her voice suspiciously through the door. “Is there someone else in there with you?”

“Just the Princess, Witch Mother,” Marissa called out and then whispered to Jenna, “Rats—the robes aren’t enough.”

Jenna looked down at her black witch cloak, which enveloped her like the night and made her feel very peculiar. It seemed quite enough to her. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“If you want to get out, I’m going to have to do something else.”

Jenna didn’t like the sound of that. “Like what exactly?”

The door handle rattled once again. “Marissa, I can hear voices,” the Witch Mother shouted. “What are