Witch Twins and the Ghost of Glenn Bly by Adele Griffin

Author:Adele Griffin [Griffin, Adele]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4532-9744-5
Publisher: Open Road
Published: 2012-12-11T21:28:00+00:00

But before she could get any further, pop! With a dry, sparkling scatter of dust, Percival was gone.

On the floor where he’d been now rested a luscious, red strawberry.

Poor Percival! thought Claire.

“Oh, poor Percival.” Luna echoed Claire’s thoughts out loud. “Where did he go?”

“Who knows and who cares? Maybe he’s off haunting a smaller bed-and-breakfast,” said Grandy “This castle was much too big a job for one measly ghost.” She squinted at the strawberry. “Blech. Ghost dropping.”

The twins watched as Grandy reached for her pocketbook on the dresser, pulled out a tissue, then stooped to pick up the strawberry, which she threw in the wastepaper basket.

“I guess that’s that,” Grandy cackled, wiping her hands. “Heh-heh-heh. What a cinch. He was weaker than I thought. Did you notice how I didn’t even need the whole spell? Well, live and learn. Now for the hard part.”

She rolled up the sleeves of her windbreaker and turned her attention to the slumbering Shrillingbirds.

Claire was glad Grandy was getting rid of the Shrillingbirds. They were loud and piggy and obnoxious—twenty times worse than poor Percival.

The twins looked on respectfully as Grandy hopped on her other foot and cast:

“Baked cod, whipped cream, and wet wool socks

Can all turn bad and rotten.

So do pillow-throwing guests—

Be gone, and be forgotten!”

Zip! Zam! Zim! Electric blue-white light charged around the bed. The twins stepped back in awe.

Lord Shrillingbird wheezed. Lady Shrillingbird sneezed. Both of them twitched slightly. But neither of them disappeared.

“Hmm. They’re stickier than I thought,” said Grandy. “All rightly. I can play that game, you icky stickers.” She thought a moment, wiped her brow, hopped in a furious circle, and recast her spell:

“I’ll make a dragon burn you up,

Or feed you to a goat.

Let’s drop you from the highest ledge

Into a slimy moat!”

She snapped, wriggled, and did a little rumba. (The rumba was not part of the spell. Grandy had been taking lessons.)

With this fearsome five-star spell, the entire bed trembled, lifted an inch off the floor, and hung suspended in midair. Then it dropped with a mighty, thudding crash.

The Shrillingbirds, however, stayed put.

In fact, they did not even wake up. Lord Shrillingbird made a gurgling sleep-sound. A thin spool of drool oozed from Lady Shrillingbird’s mouth down her cheek.

And now, in the corner of the room came a baaaaaa.

Claire, Luna, and Grandy turned. In the corner of the room, a little black goat was standing, contentedly chewing on a piece of the peacock-patterned carpet.

“Curses! Foiled again!” Grandy looked mad enough to spit.

“What’s with the goat?” asked Claire.

“Eh, foiled-spell side effect,” said Grandy.

“What is going on, Grandy?” asked Luna. “Why aren’t the Shrillingbirds responding to your spells?”

Grandy looked embarrassed. “It almost never, ever happens, but there are a few people in the world who are completely resistant to five-star spells,” she said. “Their horrible personalities protect them like a shield.” She shook her head, bewildered. “I haven’t seen such wretched resistance since that time I tried to send Madame DuFarge, my seventh-grade French teacher, back to Paris.”

She gestured weakly at the Shrillingbirds.

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