Havoc!: The Untold Magic of Cora Bell Page 4

Cora remembered the singing shoe shop they had passed.

  ‘Be careful,’ Gromp said to the fairies. He turned to Cora. Again, she thought she saw a question in the man’s eyes. But he didn’t ask it.

  ‘And if you find any tickle fruit . . .’ said Gromp.

  Tick and Tock nodded.

  The fairies put their hands on Cora’s. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, her mind on Gromp’s words. And then in a POP! of magic, Cora, Tick and Tock, were gone.

  Chapter Nine

  Cora’s boots clunked down onto something beneath her. Like she expected, her stomach sloshed around uneasily. She kept her eye closed until her queasy stomach righted itself. Cora wasn’t sure that she would ever get used to fairy travel.

  From where she stood, Cora could smell salt in the air and hear the crashing of waves. They were somewhere close to the sea. The cold, salt air reminded her of Urt. Dot had told her once that the smell of the sea was one of the best smells in the world and that sometimes just breathing in the cool air gave her strength. Cora opened her eye.

  She stood on a worn wooden boardwalk that jutted out over a dark sea. Unlike the sea in Urt, which was calm and blue, this sea was dark as night. It rolled angrily with waves. With each swell, some of the water splashed onto the boardwalk, wetting the tops of Cora’s boots. She looked up to see the sky was dark too. Thunder rolled amongst the heavy clouds above them. It was going to storm.

  ‘This,’ said Tick holding his nose closed with two fingers, ‘must be Bilg.’

  Cora opened up the map Gromp had given her. The word BILG was scrawled near a few wavy blue lines.

  ‘A fishing town,’ said Tock, also pinching his nose closed. ‘North of mostly everything in the magical world and seemingly twice as smelly.’

  The cool sea air washed over her in gusts. Cora breathed it in, letting it fill her with strength. In the distance, she could see the lights of fishing boats bobbing precariously atop the waves. She pulled her furry coat tighter.

  ‘Let’s go this way,’ said Cora. The fairies turned around and flew down the boardwalk behind her. In front of them, rows of houses and shops sat along the sea’s edge, and magical beings scurried in and out of them.

  A man in a yellow raincoat stood still by a collection of large wooden barrels. As she approached, Cora noticed that the man had two small horns on his head and two hairy, hooved legs.

  Cora looked inside one of the barrels closest to her. Pink lumps sat piled on top of salt. Cora recognised what the pink lumps were straight away. Fish guts. They sold them in Urt. The next barrel she peered into was filled with a bright yellow liquid. A sharp, pungent smell of burning and fish choked the air. She coughed, certain the stench had singed the insides of her throat.

  ‘Pickled fishtail?’ the man with horns offered. ‘It’s a delicacy.’

  Cora looked over at Tick and Tock who hid behind her from the smell, their noses still pinched closed. They shook their heads vigorously at her from side to side.

  ‘No, thank you,’ said Cora politely.

  The man nodded and then placed two round lids on top of the smelly barrels. ‘I would find shelter, if I were you,’ said the horned man. And then he placed the hood of his raincoat over his head and walked quickly away, clomping down the boardwalk.

  ‘It’s just a little rain,’ said Tock, looking up at the sky.

  ‘Fauns are so dramatic,’ said Tick.

  They followed the faun down the boardwalk until they came to a line of stores perched on a walkway by the shore’s edge. Cora noticed that some stores along the walkway like Tackle Your Fishing Tackle and another that sold flying boats had signs hanging over their doors that read Closed due to storm. Heavy, shimmering chains also ran down the sides of the stores to large bolts in the ground.

  Together, the three of them meandered through the sea town of Bilg.

  ‘Should we spread out?’ Tick asked. ‘See if there is anything we can find out about the rumours Father spoke about?’

  ‘We must be careful,’ said Tock. ‘We don’t want to attract too much attention. There could be hunters.’

  ‘And we don’t want to scare away any syphons,’ added Cora.

  Tick and Tock nodded.

  ‘Maybe we should try not to mention the word syphon,’ said Tock. ‘Just in case.’

  They spoke to a very kind ghoul who told them about his nephew’s birthday party. An elderly gnome who spoke at length about his inner ear troubles. Then they spoke to a not-so-very-kind sprite who told them to leave her alone. They even found a mermaid perched on a rock not far from the shore. Cora waved to her over the gusts of wind, crashing waves and water sprays. But the mermaid had simply tossed her long blonde hair and dove back into the rough sea.

  Eventually, nearly everyone in Bilg had retreated to their homes. As Cora, Tick and Tock looked out on the empty town of Bilg, Cora wasn’t so sure that their strategy was working. None of the magical creatures they had spoken to in Bilg said anything that seemed at all helpful in their search for syphons.

  ‘Maybe we should try another approach,’ Cora suggested.

  Loud rolls of thunder boomed above them. They peeked up at the dark, grey sky as a shatter of lightning cracked through it. Then Cora felt a scatter of cold drops hit her skin, one at a time at first, and then all at once until raindrops flew down from the sky in a wave, hitting them like buckets full of iced water. The wind picked up too, blowing in cold sheets from across the sea. Cora held her hands against it.

  ‘I don’t think the faun was being dramatic,’ cried Cora over the rain and wind.

  Tick and Tock struggled to stay in the air, the wind blowing them backwards as they fluttered against it, their tiny wings no match for the gale. Cora held onto the fairies’ hands to keep the pair from being blown away as she searched for shelter.

  ‘There,’ said Tick, pointing to a ramshackle shed that sat nearby. It was chained to the ground like the other stores and now Cora realised why. She pulled the fairies towards the shed, head down, against the wind. Then, grabbing onto her Jinx magic, she pulled off the lock on the door.

  Inside the shed was a collection of fishing rods and nets huddled together. Tock moved the fishing tools aside and Tick made a space for them on the floor.

  Cora pulled out Gromp’s map of the northern towns. She studied it as best she could in the dim light and listened as the shed rattled and jolted with the wind outside. Cracks of lightning shattered above them.

  ‘Where to next?’ Tock asked.

  ‘We could probably walk to Brolg,’ Cora said, following a path with a finger that led from one town to the other.

  They had only just begun the search for her syphon family but looking down at the map, Cora felt overwhelmed. She had hoped searching for syphons would be like scavenging in Urt; it would take a few days, but no more than a week. Yet the area of the northern towns on Gromp’s map was much, much bigger than Urt. It was going to take many, many, many weeks of looking.

  Hours passed and the rain, lightning, thunder and wind continued to beat down on the shores of Bilg. The storm outside had settled in. They weren’t going anywhere for a while.

  Cora lay down on the ground, placing her pack behind her head for a pillow. Tick and Tock did the same but instead of their packs, they used each other as a pillow.

  She listened as the rain grew heavier outside. She thought of the syphon Gromp had spoken of. Please be out there, she thought.

  Chapter Ten

  Cora ran up a hill, her bare feet padding lightly along the soft grass. She could see Tick and Tock at the top, waving down to her. Nearby, she could hear the wind chimes from the huts in The Hollow. She was almost at the top. Then the sunlight dimmed as clouds above her covered the sky. Looking up, Cora could see that the clouds were black instead of grey. They slunk across the sky like spilled ink.

  Shadows passed over the grass in front of her, but Cora kept running until she realised with a painful gasp that her feet were no longer on soft gras
s. The hill was now a pile of sharp, uneven rocks. Her bare feet scraped against them. But Cora kept running. She ran up the hill until she struggled to catch her breath. Until her feet stung, her legs ached, her lungs burnt. At the top of the hill, Tick and Tock had stopped waving.

  Then from behind her, Cora heard a snapping sound and something slimy latched onto her ankle. It pulled her to a stop mid-stride and she flew forward, down onto the rocky ground with a crunching smack.

  Cora groaned in pain. She moved a hand up to her face. She pulled her hand back to find blood from a gash near her eyebrow. Cora looked back at her feet. Wrapped around her right ankle was a black, thorny vine. It had shot out of the cracks in the rocky ground and slithered around her leg like a serpent.

  Cora tried to kick it off, but it only clung tighter to her ankle. She reached down and grabbed the vine, gasping against the pointed pokes of the thorns, and pulled until the slimy tentacle let go of her. She scrambled up onto her feet and continued up the hill, hobbling this time.

  There was another snapping sound from behind her and Cora felt a second slimy vine hook itself around her other ankle, keeping her in place. Before she could turn around and pull it away from her, there was a louder snapping sound and a bigger vine shot out of the ground and wrapped itself around her waist.

  ‘Ah!’ Cora cried out as the thorns pierced her body through her clothes. She grabbed onto the vine at her waist and pulled as hard as she could. It broke off and slithered away back into the ground. With her other foot she kicked at the vine on her ankle until it did the same. She raced ahead, up the steep, rocky hill. Tick and Tock now seemed further away than ever. She waved to them. But they didn’t wave back.

  Cora heard a snap and turned around to see another vine shoot towards her from the ground. She stepped to the side, moving out of its path quickly. Then another vine curled up from the ground and latched onto her wrist. And then another flew up and grabbed her thigh.

  ‘Tick! Tock!’ Cora cried out to the fairies. But they continued to stare back, unmoving.

  Cora pulled against the vines and they pulled back, harder. She held still, fighting the black vines with all the strength she had. Her heart dropped as she heard another snap and a long, sharp vine slithered towards her, this time wrapping itself around her chest.

  The vines wrenched her down and Cora stumbled, falling to a knee. ‘No,’ she groaned through gritted teeth. She dug her feet into the rocky ground. Then the vine around her chest tightened.

  ‘Tick! Tock!’ she gasped, trying to stand back up. ‘Help!’

  But the fairies stayed where they were, staring down at her from the top of the hill, as if they didn’t know her at all. As if they saw nothing at all.

  Cora tried to grab her magic, but there was nothing inside her to grab. Nothing to hold onto. Her magic was gone.

  Surrender to us, came the voice that sounded like stone.

  Cora ignored the voice. The vines tugged at her harder. She fell down to the rocky ground, fighting against the grip of the black plants that held her. The vines only tightened with every tug, their sharp thorns poking her skin.

  Surrender to us, said the voice again.

  More black vines shot up and slithered over to her, wrapping themselves around her arms, legs and torso, keeping her still. The vines started to tighten around her.

  Cora shook her head from side to side. It was the only thing that wasn’t held down by the squirming, black vines. Then as if in response, there was a final snap, and a large vine wrapped itself around her head . . .

  Cora awoke, gasping heavy breaths. She didn’t know where she was. It was night-time, rain fell heavily on top of her and in front of her, the sea crashed in waves. What was she doing outside? She should have woken up on the ground, looking up at the roof of the shed they had slept in. Instead, Cora found herself standing up and staring out at the dark and stormy sea of Bilg.

  She blinked. How did I . . . ?

  Cora stood on the worn boardwalk, her feet balancing dangerously over the edge. She looked down at the wild sea churning below her. Half a step more and she would be in the sea. Shakily, she took two steps back, away from the edge.

  Rain cascaded down from the sky in sheets, thundering loudly on the wooden boardwalk. Cora wrapped her arms around herself. Her clothes were soaked through. How long had she been out here? She shivered, the cold wind blowing across the rough water, and turned away from the sea. As quickly and carefully as she could, she made her way down the boardwalk. She swiped the rain from her face and her wet hair out of her eyes as she searched for the shed through the rain.

  When she found it, Cora opened the door quietly and crept inside, lying down in her spot as though she had never left. Heart thumping, Cora turned over on her side and pushed back her jacket sleeve. The black jagged lines that stretched up from the base of her palm were still there . . . but they had doubled in size.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cora was pretending to be asleep when she heard the familiar rustle and flutter of fairy wings. She had laid awake all night, trying to quell the fear of becoming a Havoc that had seeped into her chest, to settle the uneasy twisting in the pit of her stomach. But the feelings stayed with her, keeping her company, until the morning light crept in through the shed’s small dust-covered window.

  Tock yawned loudly as he stretched his arms up high over his head and Tick sat up, moving his wings lazily.

  Cora waited a moment before sitting up herself. She imagined telling Tick and Tock about the cracks on her arm. About her dreams. But in her mind, she watched them recoil at her monstrous form, their eyes wide in fear . . . and then both of them disappearing in POP!s of magic . . . leaving her alone. We could never be friends with a Havoc.

  ‘Not a bad night’s sleep,’ said Tick.

  ‘Very relaxing,’ said Tock.

  Cora nodded, but in truth, her whole body ached and her clothes were still damp from the rain. Slowly, Cora stood up. She didn’t feel so good. Her magic sloshed uncomfortably within her like one of the boats on the stormy Bilg sea.

  ‘Right,’ said Tock, ‘no time to dilly.’

  ‘Or dally,’ said Tick.

  When they left the shelter of the shed, Cora waited for the cool drops of rain to fall. For the wind to prickle her skin with goosebumps. But instead, the sun peeked through a blanket of grey clouds, warming her up.

  Following the path on the map, Cora, Tick and Tock trudged through the seaside town. They walked along the shore until they found a dirt road hidden behind a row of boats. Cora noticed some of the boats had wings folded behind them.

  As they walked, it was hard for Cora to focus on the direction in which they were heading. Her thoughts were still tangled in her dream. In the marks on her arm. In the way her magic squirmed below her skin.

  ‘I wish we had a little hint as to where the syphons could be,’ said Tick.

  ‘Is there anything written on Gromp’s map?’ Tock asked.

  Cora glanced at the map and shook her head. And then a thought occurred to her. ‘What is Gromp?’ she asked.

  ‘A changeling,’ said Tock.

  ‘He can change into anything,’ said Tick.

  ‘Anything?’ Cora repeated. She tried to imagine the man she met morphing into a piece of fruit.

  ‘Well, most things,’ said Tock. ‘He can’t change into something huge like the sky.’

  ‘Or a lake,’ said Tick. ‘Or air.’

  ‘And if he changes into another magical being, he doesn’t also get their powers. He can only change into the way they look on the outside.’

  ‘And his whiskers?’ Cora asked, pointing to her face.

  ‘He changed into a mouse once and has kept them ever since,’ said Tock.

  ‘He likes the way they look,’ said Tick, with a shrug. ‘I wouldn’t mind some, myself.’ The fairy stroked a pair of pretend whiskers.

  ‘Has he ever changed into you?’ Cora asked.

  Tock nodded. ‘Twice!’

  �
�We played a trick on Father,’ said Tick. ‘Gromp almost had him fooled but then he sneezed and changed back into himself by accident.’

  Tock laughed. ‘I will never forget Father’s face!’

  ‘I told Gromp not to try it if he had a cold,’ said Tick. Then the fairy’s eyes went wide. ‘Imagine if you syphoned changeling magic,’ said Tick.

  ‘Yes,’ Cora said distractedly, thinking about her own magic.

  ‘You’d be unstoppable!’ added Tick.

  ‘An unstoppable syphon would probably be bad,’ said Tock.

  ‘Very bad,’ said Tick.

  Cora agreed.

  ‘You know what else would be bad?’ asked Tock.

  ‘Crooked toenails?’ Tick suggested.

  ‘No,’ said Tock.

  ‘Frog breath?’ Cora suggested.

  ‘No,’ said Tock.

  ‘A room full of plumdrops and nobody around to eat them?’ Tick tried again, real fear in his eyes.

  Tock shook his head. ‘If all the food in Brolg was pickled fishtails,’ said the fairy.

  Tick groaned, sticking out his tongue in disgust.

  Cora couldn’t help but smile at her fairy friends.

  It was past the middle of the day when they saw the next town. Ahead of them, colourful houses balanced at the top of a cliff overlooking the sea. Looking down at the map, Gromp had drawn the town of Brolg as three coloured squares on a hill. And the path they were on wound all the way up to the top.

  Below them, over the edge, waves crashed dangerously against the rocks. Cora tried not to think about what would happen if she took another night-time stroll. It was a long, long way down with many, many sharp rocks in between. Cora kept her eyes forward, focused on the brightly coloured town that lay ahead of them.

  Brolg.

  Chapter Twelve

  Instead of a wet, quiet town like Bilg, the town of Brolg was warm and busy. At the foot of the town, a clean cobblestone street stretched out towards a stone fountain. In the centre of the fountain, stood a statue of a merman carved out of a shiny blue stone. He sparkled in the sun, water spouting from each of his hands. Cora watched as the stone merman then moved, bending his arms and legs into a different pose, water this time spouting out of his mouth.