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Chapter 9:
In Which Tom Finds That All Boys Are Really Made of Frogs, Snails, and Puppy-Dog Tails

 

“I daresay, Thomas, if this is you at nineteen years old, I shudder to think of what you were like as a child,” Lucien said, with a heavy sigh. I could tell by now that his patience was wearing thin. “I feel sorry for those poor nuns who had to deal with you all those years.”

“For your information, the good sisters were very fond of me and still are,” I replied, turning a page in the book and peering at a weird woodcut.

We’d been holed up in the library for near an hour, and by now I was claiming a headache so I wouldn’t have to read anymore for a bit. This reading thing was actually harder than I remembered—but I wasn’t about to give up on it now that I’d started. I’d have to muck through somehow. Of course, I wasn’t about to do that without bothering Lucien the entire time. I had to have me fun.

“If your headache is so very bad,” Lucien said irritably, “you ought to go rest. I don’t know why you’re sitting here making me wait for you.”

I put my feet up on the table, ignoring Lucien’s cry of anguish, tipped my chair back and closed my eyes. Blarney purred and curled about me neck. “I’m resting. I’m not about to go to my room. I swear, I saw a ghost in the closet last night.”

“Since when are you scared of ghosts?”

“Since they nearly killed me.”

“Ah, right. You know, Tom, for a chap with so many lives, you’re a bloody magnet for death.”

“Huh. I’d only died once before I met you. And now I’ve died twice this year. I’ve a mind to blame you for all me bad luck.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t been killed before—an annoying little thief like you—Oh.” I could hear Lucien clamp his big mouth shut. “Good afternoon, Anabelle.”

“Good afternoon, Lucien. Good afternoon, Tom.”

“What? Oh, hello.” I opened my eyes, and waved a bit as she passed by. I glanced at Lucien to see if his eyes were following her in the usual way, but he was glaring at me. “What’s the face for?”

He gave me a meaningful look, then shook his head and picked up his book. But he didn’t start reading again; his eyes were on Anabelle. Luce didn’t seem to find it possible to just be at ease in her presence. When she was about, he acted even more prim and fussy than ever.

Anabelle wasn’t paying Luce much mind however. She was poking through the bookshelves, looking for something to read. After some searching, she looked up at a higher shelf. “Lucien, could you please help me get that green book—”

“I can get it for you,” I said brightly.

She turned and smiled at me, while Luce gave me a foul look. “Thank you, but it’s rather high—”

“Oh, I can get it from here,” I said, lifting my hand. The book slid out of its spot and dropped into Anabelle’s hands.

“Practical magic, is it now?” Anabelle came forward, the book under her arm. “No more switching bodies?”

“I hope not,” I said with a shudder. “I already knew I didn’t like Luce’s personality. But now that I’m all too familiar with his body, I really haven’t got any bloody idea why any birds are interested in him.”

Anabelle laughed, tilting her head to the side, her big brown eyes shifting over to Lucien. “Charm. Being charming is very important with girls.”

“If that’s so,” Lucien said stiffly, glancing at me, “you’ll have your wish and never have a girl, Thomas.”

“That’s not fair,” said Anabelle. “I think Tom is very charming.”

I snorted at that. “I’m not charming in the least. I’m a bastard. In the…um, figurative sense.”

“Tom!” Lucien hissed.

“What?” I asked innocently, as Anabelle laughed. She didn’t care what I said.

“I’m sure you will find a girl, Tom, if the right girl comes along.”

“Ugh, rather not.” I crossed my arms. “Most girls are completely off their head. Totally mad. Practically assault any bloke in their path. You’re about the only female I know who doesn’t do that. You should see my cousin Jane—she’s a brothel madam, and if anyone throws herself at a bloke, it’s Jane. I mean, not so much anymore because she’s gettin’ old now, but believe me, in her years on this earth she’s gotten off with more blokes than most anyone could in their whole entire bloody life, you ken. And she—”

“Tom.”

“Bloody hell!” I sprang up out of my seat in surprise. “Helene, love, don’t creep up on a bloke like that!”

Helene raised an eyebrow. Her wee face was very serious and she was holding the big old potions book I’d stolen from the ghost-boy. “I wanted to talk to you about this book. It is very important.” She nodded at Lucien. “You too.”

“That book looks very old,” commented Anabelle. “Did you find it in the library?”

“No,” Helene said, in a very cold voice. “No, it is my book from home.”

“When I was nine years old I never read such big books,” Anabelle said. “Lucien tells me you are very clever…And teaching school to adults…Have you thought of becoming a school-teacher someday, Helene?”

“I do not know.” Helene was doing that thing she did where she sunk into herself, her green eyes going dull, as if she just wanted to be ignored.

“Well, you’d be bloody good at it,” I said cheerfully, trying to get her to look up from the floor and be like herself. I put an arm about her narrow shoulders. “I mean, you teach me well enough even when I’m narky and nap all through class, aye? I’d bet you could teach a whole classroom of people—though maybe not more than one Tom MacKenna at once.”

Helene did look up at me, her face a wee bit brighter, and moved closer. “I know class is over, but I want to talk to you about something very important.” Her eyes shifted slightly in Anabelle’s direction. “Something about witches.”

“I ought to go speak to Mrs. Holmes about supper,” Anabelle said suddenly, going towards the door. “I’ll see you all later, Lucien, Tom, Helene.”

When she was gone, Lucien stood up and peered down at Helene. “Helene, I don’t know if you realize it, but you might have been a little rude to Anabelle.”

Helene moved away from me and put the book on the table, not looking at either of us. “Anabelle is not the only female you know who is not silly, Tom. I am not a silly girl who…who…throws herself at boys.”

I looked up at Lucien for help, but he shrugged, as confused as I was. “Helene,” I said slowly, “I know that. I only meant…well, you’re only a little girl, and I was talking about bigger girls and women and such.”

Helene’s eyes narrowed in a Grimoire-like way. “Ah, I see how it is. Well, if I am ‘only a little girl’, I suppose you will not want to hear what I have to say about this old book.” With that, she picked up the book and started walking off, but I caught her arm.

“C’mon, love, y’know I didn’t mean it like that,” I protested. “I want to hear about the book. Could you make sense of the lot? If anyone could, it’d be you, I’m sure.”

“I say, Helene,” Lucien said in that honeyed voice he usually kept in special reserve for the ladies. “I couldn’t decipher much of it myself. Don’t tease us; tell us what you figured out.”

Helene hesitated, then smiled a small smile. “All right.” She pulled herself up onto the table and held the book open on her lap, propping it up so we could see. “I cannot read this Old English—but I found an old dictionary in this library that helped me translate some.” She held up a bunch of papers covered in her handwriting. “This would be a job for a scholar and maybe someday, when I study English more, I can do it better. But I did…how do you say?...ah, yes, decipher some recipes.”

“Really?” I sat up straight. “Brilliant, lassie. Can we try some?”

“Absolutely not,” Helene said firmly. “This is a very evil book. You said the ghost-boy started a terrible fire while making a potion from here, yes?” She turned to the recipe the ghost-boy had used. “I cannot understand all of it, but it appears to be a potion that will increase a witch’s power. Which is very wrong!”

“Why?” I asked. “I mean, in…the idea…it’s not a terrible idea.”

“In theory,” Lucien said snobbishly, nodding at me. “I agree. In theory, it’s not terrible. What’s wrong with being more powerful?”

“By unnatural means, it is very wrong,” Helene insisted. “And the way it is done…Great spells and recipes are only managed by using forbidden magic…What they call ‘black magic’. Using living creatures or body parts in magic is evil.” She pointed to the little drawing of the bird. “Life is a very special thing that cannot be created through magic, so it can be used for very serious—and very evil—spells.” She pointed to the next picture, the drippy black thing in the jar. “Animal lungs. Pickled in some kind of other potion…this was confusing. But, as you see, very disgusting. Very, very, very black magic.”

“But why did the fire happen?” Lucien questioned. “I see it’s a creepy potion…but…”

“Only a very powerful witch could succeed with these spells…” Helene frowned at the book, turning more pages. “Some require human brains or hearts! It is very advanced and very, very evil.”

“Why do you keep looking at me when you say it’s evil?” I asked suspiciously.

“I do not trust you,” Helene said. “You will try to find the least disgusting spell in this book and do it if I do not convince you of how evil it is.”

“Well, I don’t always hesitate to do evil,” I muttered. “After all, I am the bloke who was willing to sell his afterlife for extra lives.”

“I am going to keep this book just in case.” Helene shut it closed. “I do not trust you to keep it. You are always up to some kind of mischief and tricking Lucien into helping you.”

Well, that was true enough, and though Lucien looked offended, he could not defend himself all that much.

Helene swung her legs back and forth merrily. “I have better potions for you two anyway…Potions that will not require bad things. Tomorrow you are going to make a very fun potion—or at least, I think it will be fun. I have never tried it before.”

“Blimey!” I cried. “It ain’t a potion that’ll turn us into girls, is it?”

“I am sure Helene has a dress that will fit you, Tom,” Lucien sneered.

“Oh, I can’t borrow one of yours? Damn it, and I wanted to be as pretty as you!”

“Shut it—”

Helene hopped down from the table. “I will see you silly boys at supper.” She paused at the door and called back. “I cannot wait till tomorrow!”

When I entered the classroom the next morning a wee bit after breakfast, there wasn’t anyone in there. “Hello?”

Helene had already been there, I could tell—she’d opened the curtains, set up a cauldron and ingredients on the table, and in the corner of the room, there was some kind of mound hidden under a tablecloth. I was just reaching to lift this mysterious tablecloth when Helene returned.

“Stop!” she shouted. “That is a surprise, for after the potion. Go, sit down, and wait.”

Grumbling, I did so. “Where’s Luce?”

“I do not know.” Helene placed a small jar of some nasty greyish sludge on the table. “I left the breakfast table early.”

“Aye, I left not long after you did,” I sighed. “Luce and Anabelle were makin’ eyes at one another and I was gettin’ bloody nauseous.”

“Ah, I see…well, I hope he remembered we have lessons today.” Helene’s face had a pinched Grimoire look to it, so it was lucky for Luce he darted in just then, before she got too irritable.

“Sorry, am I late?” He pulled out his chair and sat on my right. His tie was crooked and he had a smudge of something reddish near his ear.

By the look on Helene’s face, she’d noticed all the same details I had. “Almost. Were you studying?”

“No,” he said, smiling slightly to himself.

“Well, I hope you’ve been practicing.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s been practicing,” I snorted. “But somehow I doubt it was what we learn here…No doubt he’s been practicing somethin’ else….”

“I don’t need to practice,” Lucien said snippishly, exactly as I’d expected. “You wouldn’t—”

Helene poked Lucien in the shoulder with her pointer. “Excuse me, have you been practicing magic? I saw Tom practicing at breakfast, but not you.”

“Oh yes, Tom did indeed practice at breakfast,” Lucien huffed, glaring at me. “You nearly dropped that pitcher of syrup on Anabelle’s head, and then you actually did spill it on me.”

“I would not have dropped syrup on Anabelle,” I said loftily. “But I may actually have intended to splash you with syrup. I didn’t like your tie. Helene, I didn’t reach for anything with my hands at all. In fact, I even got dressed this morning with magic.”

“Tom, I am very proud of you for working so hard!” Helene clasped her hands together. “Lucien, maybe you should try to do the same. Now, let us get to work!”

She put down a piece of paper with a recipe written down. “I translated it from a French book…and made a few changes. I have never tried it, but I thought it would be very fun to have you two do it—the result will be a surprise, of course!”

After our last ‘surprise’ potion, me and Luce were more than a little wary of this recipe, but we went to work anyhow. Our cauldron was already filled with the base potion, so we just had to add the things in the recipe. We had a sort of system worked out for recipes already—Luce read the recipe and I poured stuff in, though he still always looked over me shoulder to make sure I had the measurements right. That was bloody annoying, but ever since I’d brewed an elixir that was supposed to cure headaches and Lucien ended up puking for an hour straight after he drank it (I didn’t dare try it myself), I couldn’t exactly blame him for distrusting me.

“Half a cup of anise,” Lucien said clearly. “Do you know where the anise is?”

“Aye.” I held up a jar of it and dumped some in the measuring cup. “Toss it in?”

“No, don’t, don’t!” Lucien caught my wrist just as I was about to drop it all in. “Sprinkle it. As you…well, I’ll mix it. Counter-clockwise.”

“Ach...who gives a damn what direction you mix it in?”

“It makes a difference—That’s probably where you went wrong in that elixir. Thomas, I said, sprinkle, not dump—Here let’s switch. No, counter-clockwise, damn it—the other way!”

Lucien was such a perfectionist about potions. He had no patience for improvisation. After a while, I was forced to just sit and crush mandrake roots and cornflower leaves while Lucien mixed in the anise seeds and grated myrtle and yucca.

“Don’t forget the frog herb!” Helene said, from her seat by the window, where she was curled up reading a book.

“Oh yes, and dog’s tail,” Lucien murmured, shredding some weird leaves into the cauldron.

“I don’t know why herbs have such stupid names,” I said, putting down the pestle. “My hand hurts. How will I play the fiddle like this?”

Lucien held up the jar of sludge. “And what is this? The recipe doesn’t say quite what it is, Helene.”

“I didn’t think Tom would drink it if I told him what it was,” Helene said absentmindedly, turning a page in her book.

“Don’t tell me it’s potatoes,” I said in a hushed voice.

“Much, much worse than that!” chirped Helene. “I will tell you after you drink it.”

“Well, then I’m just not bloody drinking it.”

“If you do not drink it you can sit there and memorize the charts of the properties of gemstones and herbs instead. But….” Helene smiled slyly. “If you do take the potion, we will have no more lessons for the rest of the day!”

“No lessons! Blimey.” I handed Lucien the crushed herbs and thought of what I could do all day if there weren’t any bloody lessons to waste me time with.

Helene took the cauldron to the kitchen, where she would bring it to a boil, then bring it back for Luce and me to drink—she didn’t trust us to cook, I suppose, only mix. Lucien studied charts while we waited and I smoked a cigarette by an open window (Helene had given me a lecture the last time I’d smoked in the classroom and I didn’t want her to smell it). When I heard Helene’s familiar steps coming back, I crushed the cigarette against the glass, then tossed it out onto the grounds.

“It is boiling hot!” Helene sang out, magically waving the cauldron onto the table. “Now, before we put it into cups—There is one last step.”

I peered at the mixture—it was thick, lumpy, and darkest blue. “Disgusting. Is it supposed to be lumpy, Helene?”

“Oui! It is perfect.” Helene was practically bouncing up and down in excitement. “It must be drunk while it is still boiling hot or it will not work properly. So, the last step—you must both spit in the cauldron and mix it. Then magic the potion into your cups and swallow it all in one big hot gulp!!”

“I am not drinking his saliva!” Lucien cried, looking horrfied.

“At least you know where my mouth’s been,” I said. “As for where your mouth’s been….”

“You must do it quickly!” Helene climbed up on a chair, spoon ready in her hand to stir the potion. “Or the potion will cool!”

I spit into the cauldron—from a small distance away, I might add…I hadn’t spent hours as a lad having spitting contests with Gallagher and O’Leary for nothing. Lucien spit quickly into the cauldron, looking thoroughly ashamed of himself.

“You’re such a little girl, Luce,” I mocked him, snickering a bit.

Helene stirred the potion, then jumped off the chair. “I should go! I’ll be back in twenty minutes, all right! I will see you later!” With that, she darted off and was gone.

Lucien magicked the potion into two cups. “Let’s just get this over with…I hope it’s not one of those truth elixirs she told us about.” He downed it in one gulp, gagging a bit. “Ah! It’s scalding…and really tastes as disgusting as it looks.”

I swallowed mine and slammed my glass down. “I bet it’d taste better with whiskey in it.”

Lucien gave me a snobbish look, then sat on the edge of the table. “I don’t feel any different yet. Did she say she’d be back in twenty minutes?”

“Aye. D’you really think it’s a truth elixir?” I sat next to him, trying to concentrate on whether I felt any different. “’Cause all I feel is hungry. Do you feel honest?”

“No,” Lucien said, after a moment.

“Luce, are you a girl?”

“What? No….”

“Not a truth elixir.” I looked back at the cauldron—the potion had curdled into a sickening lump. “Ugh. I wish it was a truth elixir. I wouldn’t mind that.”

“I would. There are some things a gentleman can’t be public about.” Lucien raised an eyebrow at me. “You aren’t totally truthful all the time either. I don’t think you’d be awfully happy if you were bound to tell the truth for a good part of the day.”

“My secrets don’t come up in regular conversation,” I said, shrugging. “But I can be truthful at times. For example, today after breakfast, the hot tea you spilled into your lap just as I was walking out the door?” I placed my hand on my chest. “That was me. My magical abilities— OW!!” I put my hand over my stinging ear. “You just smacked my bloody ear!”

Lucien got to his feet, his face flushed and his eyes large. “Well, what you did was just plain mean! That tea was burning—and it hurt—and it was all over my trousers—and-and—” He burst into tears and started wailing and blubbering. I stared at him in horror as he also began to shrink, his face filled out, his eyes and teeth looking huge.

I pulled my legs up onto the table, still unable to take my eyes off the awful Lucien dwarf. Misère was cawing in a panic on a chair, and Blarney was mewing miserably beside me.

“What’s wrong, love?” I asked her, then cleared my throat. Me voice sounded funny—all wrong and squeaky and…girlish. “Damn it.” I hopped off the table, landing lightly on my feet even though the table was actually fairly high off the ground. “Oh, hell, bloody, bloody hell.”

Well. I wasn’t about to stand about in shock and wail, like Luce was. My clothes were already falling off, so it was easy to just slip out of them and go over to Helene’s secret mound under the tablecloth. Under the cloth were two neat piles of little boys’ clothing. It was clear which ones were mine—the ones that looked the least silly. Although, when I’d actually been this small, I’d worn cast-offs of bigger boys, not such a clean outfit as I had now. After I’d buckled me belt and tied on me shoes, I rolled my old clothes into a ball and tucked them in a corner for later, and then I went to Lucien.

The poor bloke was sitting draped in his own clothing, red-eyed and pale and miserable. “I think I’ve regressed,” he said sadly. “I have not yet looked into a mirror, but I suppose I am about ten years old or so.” He glanced up at me. “How old are you? Five?”

“Ten!” I coughed and cleared my throat. “Damn.”

“I feel all wrong,” Lucien lamented. “Not just looking the way I do, but I feel wrong inside too. I don’t normally burst into tears, you know. My emotions feel all…awful. And I feel horribly silly.” He lifted his arms, lost in sleeves as they were.

I waved a hand, and the other pile of clothes launched itself at Lucien’s face. “Get your clothes on before Helene comes.” I pulled myself up onto a chair and sat there, legs crossed, holding Blarney to myself. She felt big for the first time in a long time.

“You’ve got quite the high voice there, Thomas,” Lucien remarked, as he pulled on his trousers. “Voice hadn’t quite changed yet?” His voice was all scratchy and boyish and on the verge of change—lucky bastard. “Not that it changed much,” he added. “You’ve still got a bit of a high voice.”

I didn’t say anything. I was wondering if I should refuse to speak at all until the potion wore off.

“I must say you don’t seem much different,” Lucien said, sitting down to button his shoes. “But there is a great difference between twenty-five and ten, and not so much between nineteen and ten. I say, do you think Helene told Anabelle this time?”

“I don’t think you should be expecting to get in her knickers this afternoon,” I growled. “So leave off it.”

Helene bounded in then with an armful of dolls. “Aha! Cela a fonctionné!”

“Is this some kind of bloody joke?” I clambered onto the table and stood there, trying to hold up Blarney as best as I could. “When do we turn back?”

“It only lasts two hours, sadly,” Helene sighed. “But before lunch we have a long time to play!” She held up the dolls. “It will be so much fun! But where is Lucien?”

“I’m here,” Lucien said glumly, coming around the table. “Did you tell Anabelle?”

Helene nodded, looking none too pleased about it. “Oui. She saw me boiling the potion and told me I must tell her if I was to be transforming people in her house.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s a totally unreasonable request,” Lucien said, fixing Helene with a serious look that didn’t seem as intimidating anymore. “Anyway, what are all those dolls for?”

“School is done today, remember?” Helene held up the dolls. “That means—playtime!”

Me and Luce traded looks of disbelief, and I jumped down from the table. “Listen, Helene, when you said ‘no school’, Luce and me thought that meant we could just do as we liked—Why the hell are you looking at me like that?”

“Ah, but you are so cute!” Helene declared, with a giggle. “And I am taller than you now, do you see?”

“I have noticed,” I muttered, jamming my hands into my pockets and standing as tall as I could. “But just because I look like a-a-a leprechaun right now, doesn’t mean I’m not a grown man who doesn’t play dolls.” I took one of Helene’s dolls by the hair and held it up. “In fact, I ain’t never played with dolls.”

“I didn’t either,” Lucien said from across the room, where he was inspecting the old toy-chests in the corner. “I did have a toy railroad train that I played with every day. And a Noah’s Ark.”

Helene snatched her doll back. “But we are playing tea-party!” A small round table slid to the middle of the room, and from a small chest of tea-things it began to magically set itself. Helene began to put her dolls in small kid-sized chairs around it.

I went over to inspect the dolls. There were a few rag dolls and a pair of bunnies in dresses. I snorted and picked up a bunny. “Rabbits don’t wear dresses, do they now, Blarney?” Blarney curled around my legs, mewing. I stripped off the dress and waved the bunny by its long ears. “Bunnies get hunted! With guns! And eaten!”

Being small did have its advantages. I was faster and could bound up onto things even better than before. Helene ran behind me, squealing, and I clambered up onto a big wardrobe in the corner by the window.

“You should know, Helene, bein’ a smart little girl and all, the natural order of things,” I said, from my perch. “Man is at the bloody top of the whole bloody food chain. Bunnies are near the bottom, you ken.”

“Tom, you are being a mean boy!” Helene stomped her foot. “You get down from there right now!”

Lucien looked up at me from below, one eyebrow raised. “It’s not exactly mature to tease Helene, Tom.”

“And why should I be mature?” I leaned over the edge, the long ends of me scarf hanging down. “I’m just barely three feet tall. Why bloody bother? Way I see it, maturity be damned for now!”

“Little boys should not swear!” Helene scolded, pointing her finger at me.

“I’ve sworn for a bloody long time,” I replied coolly. “Little girls don’t swear. Little girls don’t have any fun at all. They wear skirts and petticoats and don’t whoop and swear and have good times. Boys have all the real fun.”

“Well, if you think so--!” Helene took Lucien’s arm. “Come, Lucien. You and I can play tea-party instead. I will be Madame Delacroix and you can be my husband!”

“Girly games,” I scoffed, cramming the bunny into me belt and leaping down onto the ground. I’d caught sight of something better in the toy-chest and rushed to pull it out.

Lucien’s huge grey eyes went wide and he broke into a grin. “How many of those are there?”

“Two. Take one.” I tossed the wooden sword in his direction, and he stopped it in the air with magic while ducking, just in case.

Surprised that it’d worked, he snatched it out of the air. “My mother never let me play with these,” he said, with awe, stroking the scratched blade. “She said they were silly.”

“Mine too,” I said ruefully, without thinking about it. “I just used spoons and such, but I did always want a sword.” I pulled the bunny from my belt and held the sword to its neck. “Aha!! I’ve got your damn rabbit and now I’m gonna cut off her head and make rabbit stew!”

Helene threw up her hands and stormed off, jabbering in French. I shook my head and took Luce aside. “Listen. We’ve got to ambush her tea-party. Take all the dolls and hold ‘em captive.”

“For ransom,” Lucien said in a hushed voice, nodding eagerly. “I don’t want to play girl-games with her….”

“Course not. C’mon. Let’s go.”

We walked over to Helene, who was pointedly ignoring us as she chatted with her dolls in French around the wee table. I nodded at Lucien and between the both of us we seized the dolls and made a run for it. I climbed up the wardrobe and Lucien flew up, while Helene railed at us from below.

“We’re bandits!” I declared, waving my sword in the air.

“And if you don’t give us a million pounds we’ll cut the throats of your children!” Lucien shouted, holding his sword to the limp neck of a rag doll.

“Bloodthirsty,” I commented.

He shrugged. “They do that in books.”

“That’d make a bloody good book,” I said, nodding. “And if it was a story—like a penny dreadful—I’d betray you now!”

Lucien shrieked like a girl as I jabbed my sword at his ribs. “You bastard—Ahhh!!” In his efforts to get away from me, he tumbled off the wardrobe and fell to the ground with a thump.

For a moment I was concerned, but when I saw him sitting up, I laughed carelessly and waved my sword. “Aha! Now you know not to trust the great and evil MacKenna!”

“You’re so mean!” Lucien sobbed, clutching his leg. “Now I’ve got an awful bloody cut on my knee and….” He looked considerably paler. “It’s bleeding!”

Helene had been watching from the side, her arms crossed and her mouth set in a prim line, but now she raised her eyebrows and huffed. “Well, that is what you get when you are a bad boy!”

“Yes, but…it hurts!” Lucien choked, making no effort to wipe at his tears.

I rolled me eyes. “Ach, what a girl. Luce, boys skin their knees and split their lips and do it all with dry eyes.”

“And I suppose they also just take people’s toys!” Helene snapped.

“I’m sorry, Helene,” Lucien whimpered, burying his face in his hands. “It was all Tom’s idea….”

“Oui, I know,” said Helene. “But I cannot believe you went along with it! And now, see what happens! If we had played Monsieur and Madame Delacroix—which is nice and safe and fun—you would not have a bloody knee.”

“You’re right.” Lucien looked and sounded thoroughly ashamed with himself. “We could play that now, if you want.”

Helene got that smug little look that I knew by now to associate with her getting her way. “We could. There are some dolls still—they could be the babies.” She held out a hand to help him up. “It will be so much fun—EEEEE!!!!!!”

As soon as their hands had touched, Lucien had jumped up and held his sword to her throat. “Now that you fell for my ploy, Madame Delacroix—we have your children—and your rabbits! It’s your life or theirs!”

I jumped down from the wardrobe, whooping in excitement. “Bloody hell, Luce, I’m proud of you!”

Helene was jabbering in French angrily as she struggled. I circled her and Luce, smiling me own smug smile. “So, young Helene, where have your book-smarts gotten you now?”

Before I knew what was going on, I had flown backwards into a wall. I sat up with a groan, rubbing me bruised crown. “Now that was bloody mean, Helene!”

Lucien was by the other wall, holding his head, and Helene was standing in the middle of the room, looking even angrier than the time she’d attacked me with her parasol.

“You are being very mean boys!” Helene shrieked, lifting her arms. “If you want to play a fight then I will give you a FIGHT!!” The dolls and bunnies rose up and shot in Lucien’s direction, and he swore and covered his head with his arms.

The animals froze in mid-air and Lucien, with a triumphant laugh, waved a hand and they exploded. The air had hardly cleared of fluff and stuffing when Helene transformed the tea-table into a small dragon, which flew up and roared an unearthly roar.

I jumped up and forced it to become a cute fat pony that blinked blankly at the three of us. A second later it was an ugly toothy dog that started advancing on me, then it was a cat, then a wolf, then a baby elephant, then it was crouched and black, with long arms and glowing eyes. Snuffling, it reached a clawed hand out to Lucien, who ran into me, and we tumbled a bit backwards.

Helene was standing on the big table, her little pointed face dead serious.

“Those bogeymen don’t scare me,” I said, shoving Luce off me and concentrating on changing the creature into something else—something to scare Helene. But I’d never actually pitted my powers against her before—and as I pushed as hard as I could, I realized that she was more powerful than I’d understood. Lucien’s hand gripped mine then and I felt it—his power, a strong surge that matched my own.

The lights started blinking and the room started shaking. The glass in the windows shattered. Lucien’s fingers dug into my skin and I felt him flinch as I gripped him harder. I’d never understood magic before, I realized. It wasn’t just an ability to do tricks, like I had an ability to spit far or Luce had the ability to read and write well. It wasn’t all about practice. It was something else, a presence inside me that I’d never really tapped into. Even at that moment, I knew I wasn’t tapping into it completely. But what I was using was so much, it was hard enough to handle.

The bogeyman trembled, as we tried to transform it—then it exploded, sending bits of wood everywhere.

Lucien and I let go of each other. The light settled and the room stopped its shaking. Helene crawled out from under the table, her eyes huge.

“Ça alors! What were you two doing??”

“I was wondering the very same thing,” said Anabelle quietly from the open door.

Lucien turned bright red. “Anabelle! I…we…that is…he….”

“We can fix it!” I said proudly, lifting my hand and magicking all the glass back into place. “We’re learning all sorts of practical magic now.”

“That is impressive,” Anabelle said, stepping into the room, and holding her skirts so they didn’t touch the potion splattered all over the floor. “And useful. When I was a little girl, I threw a ball through my Uncle Gaetano’s window, and I would have loved to be able to hide the evidence!”

“Me brother Fergus too—‘specially when he threw a pair of flamin’ bottles of whiskey through the windows of one of our neighbors,” I said, vanishing the spilled potion and repairing the broken cups.

“I didn’t know you had a brother!” Anabelle sat at one of the chairs, looking at me in a funny way. “Lucien never told me that.”

I didn’t say nothing about it, but it struck me as sort of odd that Luce had told her things about me at all. I was fairly sure none of it was nice, though he’d left out all the awful bits about me being a thief with extra lives. “Aye, I’ve got a brother. Haven’t seen him since I was…well, about as old as I look now, I suppose.”

“So how old are you two now, with this potion?”

“About ten, I think. I was small when I was ten,” I added defensively.

Anabelle laughed, then turned to Lucien, who was standing awkwardly to the side. “Is it strange, being a child again, Lucien?”

Lucien had that look in his face like he always did when he talked to Anabelle, a god-awful put-on look that reminded me eerily of Cousin Jane and her sort. The worst part was that he was now in the body of a bloody ten-year-old, and that look was all wrong on the face of a kid.

“You are both always…what is the word? Ah yes…immature, so I saw no difference,” Helene said loftily, putting her dolls back together with magic.

“Tom started it,” Lucien said to Anabelle, moving closer. “As usual. I am sorry if all the noise disturbed you, Anabelle.”

Anabelle looked like she was stifling a laugh—and I didn’t blame her. Luce was about half her size at the moment, and there he was, making eyes at her.

“Well, it is nice to know that no matter how you look, you are always the same inside, Lucien,” Anabelle said, standing up and patting him on the head.

Luce looked insulted at this treatment, and I snorted back a laugh. He may have had a lot of smarts, but Lucien wasn’t very capable of seeing himself clearly, from when he was dressed in silly outfits to when he was in the body of a kid.

“Helene,” Anabelle said, in a very obviously friendly voice, as she bent to help Helene gather her belongings, “are these all your dolls?” She held up a baby doll in a fancy white dress. “I used to have a doll like this that my mother bought me for my confirmation when I was twelve years old. Have you been confirmed yet?”

“No,” Helene said shortly, taking the doll back. “I am only nine years old.”

“Oh yes, I forgot…You seem much older.”

Helene shrugged, not even looking up at Anabelle, as she loaded her tea-set into a box.

“That is such a pretty tea-set!” Anabelle remarked brightly, reaching to touch a cup, just as Helene shut the box firmly.

I glanced at Lucien—he thought I was rude, but Helene had a way of snubbing that I thought was far worse than my friendliness. Luce grimaced at me in response, wringing his pale hands together awkwardly.

“I should go,” Anabelle said finally, smiling down at all of us. “It seems Helene has the cleaning perfectly in hand—and I hope you two help her out. Be more careful next time—even,” she added, looking pointedly at me, “if you can fix it with magic. I’ll see you all at lunch.”

After she’d left, me and Luce went to finish putting away the last of the toys.

“Now, Helene,” he said cautiously, repairing the table carefully with magic. “Don’t you think you might have been rude to Anabelle?”

“I do not see why you are always so concerned about if I am being rude to Anabelle, or Tom is being rude to Anabelle.” Helene sat on the floor, rebraiding a doll’s hair and not looking at Lucien. “A lot of times people are rude to me! Like when Tom pulls my hair or waited under my bed to scare me last night.”

“I was not waiting under your bed to scare you!” I cried. In truth, I’d been looking for where she’d hidden the old potions book, but I wasn’t about to admit to that.

“But Helene, surely you have more manners than Thomas….”

“I think Anabelle is a nice lady, but a little bit…how do you say in English…nosy? Yes, nosy. She is a nosy lady.”

“I am simply appalled,” Lucien sniffed. “Anabelle is a very fine and dignified lady—”

“I agree,” I put in. “Which is why you shouldn’t be fluttering your girly-lashes at her when you look young enough to be her son.”

“I was not fluttering—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were flirting,” I said, rolling me eyes. “Flirting. F-L-whatever-whatever-R-T-whatever-something-G.”

“You are so inane.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t help it if I always look…flirtatious.”

“Lustful, is what I was thinking. Your bug eyes bore into her like so….”

“Do stop making that face. You look ridiculous.”

“You are both ridiculous!” Helene cried suddenly, her fists clenching in the doll’s hair. She clutched the doll to her chest, and didn’t look up at us. “I planned today for weeks, and I was thinking that it would be so very much fun! After so many months, I would finally have someone to play with….” Her voice sounded very small, and Grimoire glared at us from her lap, as if all of this was somehow our fault.

“Well, Helene, I mean…we played,” Lucien said, attempting some kind of cheer that fell flat.

“I have been so lonely,” she said, and her voice broke. “All this time, and I play by myself, but I am not good at that—and, and I knew Sabine would leave me someday, but not like that—and it…None of this is what I thought it would be like….” She started crying then, and Luce and me exchanged looks, but weren’t sure what to do.

“Listen,” Lucien began cautiously, “what say you ask Anabelle to play with you? I think she—”

“She is not Sabine!” Helene shook her head hard and stood up. “I do not want to play with Anabelle, or you, or Tom—I want Sabine! I want Papa and Maman! I want to go home and I do not want to be in England!”

“Well, who the bloody hell does want to be in England?” I burst out. “Look, Helene, don’t think you’re the only one!”

“But it is not fair….”

“Life isn’t fair,” I said, more harshly than I meant to. “Sometimes people die. Sometimes you have to be somewhere you don’t want to be. Sometimes you’re bloody lonely. But, listen, you ain’t the first kid who’s had to go through it, and you won’t be the last.”

Helene stared at me, her eyes wide and teary, then nodded slowly. Her narrow shoulders slumped, and she looked down. “You are right. I am just being silly and…acting like a little girl.” She gathered her dolls in her arms. “You both did a very good job with the potion. Thank you for playing with me.”

She looked so sorrowful leaving the room that I almost wanted to call her back. But I wouldn’t know what to say if I did, so I just turned around and began unbuttoning my shirt.

“What are you doing?” Lucien asked, looking horrified, as if I had started doing something weird.

“Undressing,” I said, taking off my shirt. “I, for one, have no intention to burst out of these wee clothes and look like a bloody moron.”

“Well, just hold off on it for a moment!” Lucien caught my arm just as I’d started undoing my trousers. “I want to speak to you seriously, and I don’t believe I can do that if you’re bloody naked.”

“You are a bloke of some damn serious contradictions…but suit yourself. What is it? Make it quick.”

“The way you transformed the tea-table—like Helene did—I had no idea you could do that so well. You never really do it in class, but you did it perfectly. Where did all that come from?”

“I’ve been practicing,” I admitted. “A bit. Or a lot sometimes. Why?”

“I just…you’re really powerful,” he said quietly, looking at me oddly. “When we shared power, I could feel it.”

“I don’t think I’m any more powerful than you. It all took me by surprise—How did we do that sharing bit? I didn’t know witches could share power like that.”

“Covens can. I read it in one of Helene’s books. Once a coven is fully bonded, they can pass power through contact. And,” he added, “sometimes without contact. But I don’t know how to do that.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Since when did we become a ‘fully bonded’ coven?”

“I don’t know exactly…Maybe Halloween? That was the first time it really felt like a coven.”

That was an oddly sentimental thing for Lucien to say, but I understood what he meant. “Aye, I suppose that would be it then.” I thought about it a moment, then said, “Y’know, ‘sides you killin’ me and acting like a damned ninny—that was a fairly good night, once the bogeymen were gone.”

“Agreed. I miss Helene’s cooking.”

I punched him in the arm and he yelped. “Don’t say you wish were back in your flat now. You must be enjoyin’ gettin’ off with your choice bird every time you like, aye? Saves you a lot of trouble.”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t get me wrong now—I don’t approve, but I prefer you with Anabelle than some mad Duchess out to kill us all.”

“Thank you ever so much.” He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Anyhow, I wanted to tell you that you’re powerful and you should work harder. And…I think we made a fairly good…team there. Against Helene.”

“Oh Lucien. You’re such a flatterer.” I smirked up at him. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” he said stiffly. “Though, you do owe me for helping you with reading.”

“I don’t owe you anything. You were the one who asked. Anyhow, I’m an orphan, you ought to be charitable towards me.”

“Thomas, if you were the poster boy of charities, no one would ever give a farthing.” This cutting remark of his was ruined altogether when he shot up in height suddenly.

“Hell, this is like a freak show!” I looked away from the sight, and quickly shed my own clothes, before my own body began to change.

Once in a normal condition and fully clothed, I picked up Blarney and cuddled her. “I’d forgotten how heavy you used to be,” I teased, and she swatted lightly at me with a paw.

I turned back to Luce, who was still putting on his tie. “Honestly, it’s just lunch you’re going down to.”

“I am aware of that.” He checked his reflection in the mirror and straightened his clothes. “I suppose you’ll be cramming as much as you can into your mouth, in your usual uncouth manner?”

I shrugged. “I don’t see any need to put on an act for anyone. I’ll leave that to you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look here, Luce, I know you’re a bloke who shoves three cookies in his mouth at once and can eat half a cake in less than an hour. I also know that while you dress neatly, you leave clothes in crumpled heaps around your room. Do you really think Anabelle will dislike you if she knows the real you?”

“I don’t think you should venture an opinion on a subject you have no understanding of,” Lucien said seriously, moving past me toward the door.

“I do understand that maybe you shouldn’t assume Anabelle is just like you,” I said, ducking under his arm and out into the hall as he opened the door.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you are the one who doesn’t like getting to know people—You are the one who doesn’t want to see Anabelle as she really is.” I threw him a smile and started down the stairs. “Just a thought.”

Glossary:
Ça alors - (French) My goodness
Cela a fonctionné - (French) It worked
Oui - (French) Yes