“Hard or not, these are wonderful,” Megan exclaimed. (They really did taste amazing, especially with Aunt Deli’s homemade strawberry jam on them.)
“I love them too, Mom,” I said, smiling at her. “Maybe you could show me how to make them?”
“I’d love to, sweetie.” She smiled at me. “As soon as I teach Deli, here—she has first dibs.”
“I’m going to teach your mom to cook, and she’s going to teach me to bake,” Aunt Deli said, smiling broadly. “You know I’m hopeless at everything but cookies and cornbread,” she added to Megan. “And apparently your mom is quite the bread-maker,” she told me.
“Wow, Mom—it’s so great to see you doing more than sitting in a dark room typing all day,” I said to her.
“Typing and smoking, I’m sure you mean.” She smiled at me. “Ever since I broke that nasty habit, I feel so free and so happy! And Deli has me doing all kinds of crazy things.”
“She’s taking my yoga class,” Deli said, smiling again. “And we’re going to take a pottery class together.”
“Don’t forget the stargazing and the hula dancing,” my mom added, laughing. “I don’t know when I’ve had so much fun!”
Megan and I exchanged a look and couldn’t help laughing ourselves. I knew she’d told me that her Aunt Deli had been lonely, but I had never guessed how lonely my own mom had been as well. It was so nice to see her happy and healthy—she looked ten years younger already—with a new best friend to spend time with. It did my heart good to see them together.
We waved goodbye just before twilight, because Mom didn’t want us walking home after dark, and headed back to school.
“Well, those two are thick as thieves,” Megan remarked, smiling as we headed down the street that led towards Nocturne Academy.
“I know! I never knew my mom needed a friend until she and your aunt got together,” I confessed. “For as long as I can remember, she spent most of her time holed up in the dark, doing transcription and smoking. I didn’t realize it, but I think she must have been depressed.”
“I think Aunt Deli is just delighted to have someone to hang around with that doesn’t think she’s weird,” Megan said, shaking her head. “She is kind of eccentric, you know,” she added. “It’s nice that your mom doesn’t seem to mind.”
“I think she’s getting Mom out of her shell,” I said. “Can you imagine the two of them hula dancing together?”
We broke into peals of laughter at the mental image but our laughter was cut short by a loud growling that came from behind us.
“What in the world?” Megan and I both turned our heads.
There, on the sidewalk behind us, was a little, fluffy Pomeranian. It would have been adorable if its ears hadn’t been laid back and its tiny white teeth hadn’t been bared.
“Hey, where did you come from, buddy?” Megan started to approach it but it barked and snapped at her outstretched fingers viciously. “Okay, never mind then,” she said, drawing her hand away quickly. “I guess you don’t want to be friends after all.”
“Uh, Megan?” I said apprehensively. “I don’t think those guys want to be friends either.
Coming up behind the Pomeranian were a couple of pugs—they were also snarling. Behind them were four beagles who didn’t look any happier to see us than the Pomeranian or the pugs.
“Uh-oh…” Megan took a careful step backwards. “Emma, this doesn’t look good.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I had to agree. I was pretty sure this was the doubling spell again, considering the numbers and kinds of dogs we were seeing. At least so far most of the dogs were small, I thought.
But that didn’t last.
“Look!” Megan gasped.
She pointed down the road and I was horrified to see eight huge Rottweilers bounding along the sidewalk towards us. And far in the distance behind them, I saw a whole bunch of Pit Bulls. I didn’t have to count to know there had to be exactly sixteen of them.
“It’s a whole pack!” I exclaimed. “Run!”
Of course, there was no outrunning the dogs—we were fast but neither Megan or I were track and field stars. Luckily, there was a big old oak tree at the end of the block, with branches low enough to reach.
We got up into it just in time and the dogs gathered around below it, barking and growling.
Panting, I pulled myself to a higher branch to keep my feet away from a particularly vicious-looking Doberman that was bounding up and snapping its long, sharp teeth at me like it had springs in its back legs. Drool flew from its open mouth as it snarled angrily.
“This is awful!” Megan exclaimed, pulling herself up beside me. “Every dog in Frostproof must be here!”
“Who knew there were so many,” I remarked dismally. Some of them seemed to be strays, but lots of the animals wore collars and some were dragging leashes—clearly they had given their owners the slip to come attack me at Morganna’s request.
“I wish Griffin was here!” Megan said, worriedly. “I’m not supposed to do magic outside of school but he could make them all go home and leave us alone.”
“Maybe I can, too,” I said. “I just need to concentrate.”
Closing my eyes, I held tight to my focus charm and reached for the golden ribbon. I found it at last and began to gather power. When I felt like I had enough, I examined the dogs through my ‘Magic Eye,’ which was a kind of sixth sense Lachlan had been teaching me how to use.
What I saw made my heart sink.
“Oh, no,” I groaned, opening my eyes again.
“What? What is it?” Megan looked at me anxiously. “Can’t you call them off?”
“I can, but it’s going to take some time,” I said. “And it’s going to hurt.”
There was a blanket spell over all the dogs covering them like—well, like a blanket. That was the doubling charm. I took it off, folded it up, and “threw it away” magically. That, at least, stopped more dogs from joining the pack baying under our oak tree.
But under the doubling charm, every single dog had also been put under a spell of aggression. This spell looked like little red, magical burrs that were knotted into their fur. The burrs were hurting them—and making them angry, while giving them the idea that I was the one to blame for their pain.
I explained what I was seeing to Megan, who looked at me in dismay.
“But that’s awful! What are you saying, Emma? That you’ll have to de-spell every single dog?”
“Yes, which is going to be time-consuming,” I told her. “Because I’ll have to magically pick all the burrs out of every dog’s coat. If I leave even one, they’ll keep being angry and aggressive even after we get away.”
I didn’t want that—I actually like dogs. The only reason we didn’t have one was that Mr. Groperson had a no pets policy at his apartment complex. I didn’t want to send any of these guys home to bite and snap at their owners because I had missed getting a magical burr out of their fur.
Sighing, I got to work, starting with the little Pomeranian.
Every dog had no less than fifteen “anger burrs” in its coat and every one hurt to take out. It was the same feeling you get when you’re trying to remove a real burr from your clothes or hair. The kind that have the long spikes and prick your fingertips when you pull them out.