Witch and Wizard - James Patterson [27]
“So you think we’re Extremely Dangerous?” I said, tapping my drumstick against my side.
“Yes,” said the TW. “The world will be a far better place without either of you.”
“Because I’m a scary witch?” I sneered. “A bad, scary witch?”
“That is correct,” said the TW. “You probably sold your soul for your demonic powers.”
I waved the drumstick at him. I saw fear and pride have a wrestling match on his little pointy face. He glared back at me. “Put that down. I command it!”
“Ooh, I’m a bad, scary witch,” I said in a psycho kind of voice. “I’m going to turn you into a pumpkin! Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo!”
Then I brandished my drumstick as if it were actually a magic wand.
To my complete and utter astonishment, we heard a real live crack of electricity, and actual sparks flew out of the end of the stick. The TW gave a startled cry, and then there was a boom like a jet had just broken the sound barrier.
When the smoke in the room cleared, Whit and I were standing there, looking at… well, an honest mistake.
But a very bad mistake all the same.
Chapter 45
Wisty
I COULD HAVE SWORN I said “pumpkin.” Didn’t I say “pumpkin”?
“Um, I think I just turned the Tattling Weasel into a lion,” I said weakly.
“That seems fairly obvious” was all Whit could say.
The lion coughed, putting one paw on its chest. “Ahem,” it spoke in a scratchy voice. Then the very large cat opened its mouth wider and tried a practice roar.
“Change him back,” Whit said as he pulled us up against the nearest wall. “Do it now! Quick, quick, quick! Before the weasel realizes he’s changed into a man-eating carnivore! Try saying something other than ‘pumpkin’!”
The lion roared again—even louder. It seemed to be warming up to the idea of being a lion. Then it sort of smiled at me. Mostly what I saw, though, were really long, sharp teeth.
“Change him back,” Whit repeated, not taking his eyes off the king of beasts.
The lion opened its mouth again and let out a huge roar. It blew my hair back, filling the room and reverberating off the walls.
I raised my drumstick. “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo!” I said firmly.
Nothing happened. Of course, right?
I concentrated. Funny thing about concentration—you don’t realize how little you do it until you finally do it. Fact is, I don’t think I’d ever truly concentrated on anything until that moment with the very big lion in the very small room.
“Turn into your natural form!” I wielded the drumstick again. “Do it! DO IT—I’M SERIOUS!”
Boom! Lightning, sparks, acrid smell, et cetera, and lots of smoke.
I waved my hand in front of my face so I could see, and it became clear that there was no more lion. But there was no Byron, Disgrace to Kids Everywhere, either.
Whit and I looked at each other in amazement but also utter confusion.
Then I heard low-volume scuffling and squeaking sounds over by the door.
“Hmm,” I said.
“Hmm,” said Whit.
I don’t know if my saying “natural form” translated into magicspeak the way “pumpkin” had translated into “lion,” but clearly this was closer to the mark.
Because Byron “Tattling Weasel” Swain was now an actual weasel.
Chapter 46
Whit
“MY SISTER—WOW! Dang, you’re good,” I told her.
“Yep,” she agreed. “I’m a bad, scary witch, all right.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t discover these powers earlier, like when you were a little kid and I used to tease you about your hair,” I said, and she grinned like she’d just won the lottery.
As we peered down, the Little Beastie Formerly Known as Byron reared up on its hind feet and hissed angrily.
“He liked being a lion better,” I guessed.
Just then the door to our cell crashed open, and the Matron stood there with two of her nastiest, beefiest armed guards. Call ’em Joe and Schmo. We did.
“What was that awful, terrible noise?” she shouted, raking the room with her eyes.
“Uh… what noise?” I asked with the innocence of a Scout at jamboree.
“It sounded like… a lion roaring,” she said, her corpse-white skin turning self-consciously pink.
“Okay…,” I said, frowning slightly and arching my eyebrows. “A lion? Here? In our cell?”
The two guards