The Only Thing Worse Than Witches

New Lair, Where?

WHEN RUPERT ARRIVED AT HIS HOUSE, WITCHLING Two was waiting for him on the porch.

She waved to him, grinning. “Hi, Rupert!”

He was almost too stunned for words. Finally he stammered out, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see my apprentice! What are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

“Well, there we have it,” she said with a nod.

Rupert climbed the porch steps, but as he got closer, the smile slid off her freckly face. She wiggled her nose and sniffed loudly. “You smell funny,” she said.

“Do I smell like bananas? Mrs. Frabbleknacker may have rubbed off on me.”

“No, you smell more like pigeon liver,” she said matter-of-factly.

“What are you doing here?” Rupert said. “You said I didn’t know anything about magic.”

“It’s called perverse apology. Nebby and Storm use it on me all the time, so I thought I’d trick them for once.”

Rupert scratched his head. “Perverse apology? I think you mean reverse psychology.”

Witchling Two shrugged.

“So what are you doing here? At my house? My mom doesn’t particularly like… people like you. You better leave before she gets home from work.”

“I’ve already met Joanne. We just had a nice pot of tea.”

At that moment, Rupert’s mother opened the front door. She was struggling to get her shoes on, and she was wiggling around trying to clip the straps. “Rupert, honey, you didn’t tell me you made such a lovely friend at school. We were just having tea.”

Rupert looked at Witchling Two in fright, but she was just smiling. Did she tell his mother the truth? Rupert couldn’t imagine that Witchling Two would tell his mother that she was a witch and Rupert was her new apprentice — and his mother seemed far too calm to have heard that she was just drinking tea with a witch.

“Rupert?” his mother said. “You seem distracted.”

“Sorry. You’ve met my friend…” he tried to introduce her, but then he realized that he very well couldn’t introduce her as Witchling Two. “Uh, my friend. So now we’re going to work on homework. In my room.” Rupert grabbed the sleeve of Witchling Two’s powder blue shirt, and he pulled her into the house.

“I’m headed to work!” his mother shouted behind him. “I’ll see you later, Rupert!”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Campbell!” Witchling Two cried.

Rupert pulled her past the kitchen and through the living room. He tried to drag her up the stairs, but she paused at the adjacent basement door.

“Ooooh!” she squealed. “A dark and dangerous door! What’s in there?”

“Just the basement,” he said. “Let’s not go down there.”

Witchling Two opened the basement door, grabbed Rupert’s arm, and pulled him down the stairs with her. The basement wasn’t the most comfortable part of the house — it was a carpet-less, cement-floored, dimly lit, dust-ridden, musty-smelling, dingy old space. But despite his reluctance to go down there, Rupert supposed it was perfect for what he needed at the moment: a quiet area to think. He buried his face in his hands and thought, thought, thought about what to do next. Now that his mother met Witchling Two, it changed everything. His mom would expect to see his “new friend” around. But how could Rupert possibly have her over? She was a witch, and if his mother found out, she wouldn’t like that one bit.

Rupert looked up to find Witchling Two pacing the perimeter of the room.

“What are you doing?” Rupert said.

“The dimensions are perfect. And it’s just the right temperature. And it has the ideal amount of light.”

“For… for what?”

“For my new lair, of course!”

Rupert’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“Well, I can’t go back to Pexale Close with you. The Witches Council booby-trapped it for humans.”

“You can’t have a lair here!” Rupert said. “My mom hates witches! And she’ll know if a witch’s lair is in her own basement!”

“Calm down, Rupert. She likes me.”

“Not when she finds out you’re a witch! And what did you tell her by the way? How did you end up having tea with my mom?”

Witchling Two smiled. “Ah, well, I was waiting for you outside the house, and your mom just invited me in. Who am I to say no to perfectly good tea and crumpets?”

“And what did you say when she asked for your name?”

“I didn’t say anything. I just changed the subject.”

“Do you know what name you’ll want to use, eventually?”

Witchling Two shook her head. “Not yet. I’ll keep you posted. But you have to promise to keep it a secret. I’ll be very upset if one of the other witchlings takes my name.”

Witchling Two turned her back toward Rupert and put her arms straight in the air. Then she stretched from left to right. Then right to left. Then she jumped up in the air. Then she jumped up in the air and waved her arms. Then she crouched down on the ground. Then she hugged her knees. Then she put her cheek to the floor. Then the other one. Then she stood on her head until her face turned purple.

“Are you all right?” Rupert said.

“I have to do my exercises now. Shhh,” she said.

Rupert sat on the worktable and observed Witchling Two’s routine with bemusement. “You’re looking rather purple.”

“That’s my favorite color!”

“So I’ve heard,” Rupert said, “but it might be healthier if you stayed peach.”

Witchling Two flipped up to her feet. “Let’s do some magic!”

Rupert’s eyes bulged, which was his way of saying NO WAY, JOSE. They could not — absolutely, positively, definitely, surely, certainly could NOT — use his basement as a lair. Because even though his mother worked three jobs, she was bound to notice a cauldron in the basement.

Witchling Two cracked her knuckles, and Rupert cringed. He hated the sound, and it just so happens that witches have extra crackily knuckles that make the whole room shake. It was the loudest, most horrible sound Rupert had heard in all eleven years of his life.

“AUGH!”

And Witchling Two froze. “What is it?” she whispered. “Did you see… a bunny rabbit?”

And then everything clicked for Rupert.

“Oh yes!” Rupert lied. “I saw a bunny! There are tons of them in the basement. Millions, in fact. All the bunnies in the world live in basements. Maybe you don’t want your lair here after all—”

Witchling Two jumped onto the table. “BUUUUNNNNNYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“NO NO!” Rupert said. “I WAS JUST KIDDING!”

But then Witchling Two whimpered. And that whimper turned into a snivel. And that snivel turned into a weep. And that weep turned into a cry. And that cry turned into a wail. And that wail turned into a sob. And that sob turned into a blubber.

And by that time, the basement began to flood.