The Only Thing Worse Than Witches Read Online Free PDF Page A

“We have to get out of here, now!”
    Rupert coughed and panted, and the witch paced back and forth on the steps above.
    â€œAh!” she said. “Okay.” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them she looked fiercely behind Rupert. “I need to get this boy to move faster,” she said.
    Rupert looked behind him, but no one was there. Who was this witch talking to?
    â€œI need a Jetpack,” she said, and she snapped her fingers.
    CRACK.
    In a blink, the witch held a brown over-the-shoulder bag with a zipper on top and holes on the sides.
    â€œIs the Jetpack in there?” Rupert said.
    The witch shook her head. “It-it’s not a Jetpack,” she said in a very small voice. “It’s a pet sack.”
    â€œA pet sack?”
    â€œA pet sack.”
    â€œBut we need a
Jetpack
.”
    â€œThey’re getting closer,” the witch said.
    â€œWho?” Rupert asked, turning to look behind him again. Still, nothing.
    â€œThe witches . . . the Witches Council. The Fairfoul Witch and all her underlings.”
    â€œWell,
you’re
a witch!” Rupert said. “Can’t you stop them?”
    The witch opened the pet sack. “This can work. Get in.”
    â€œYou want
me
to get in
there?
” Rupert grabbed the pet sack. It was made for a medium-sized dog — or perhaps a giant cat. It couldn’t possibly fit an average-sized boy like him.
    â€œYes!” the witch said. “And hurry!”
    Rupert zipped open the bag and curled himself inside. He contorted in a way he didn’t think he possibly could. Somehow his ankle was by his ear and his wrists were knocking his knees — and his head popped out of the bag just slightly. The witch threw the bag over her shoulder and darted up the stairs. Rupert marveled at her speed — even while carrying him over her shoulder, she was just as fast.
    With every landing, Rupert thumped against the witch’s side, which hurt his twisted-up body, but he tried not to think about it. Instead he peered out of the bag, watching for the top of the stairs. They were so close! Then Rupert turned around to look behind them.
    This time, he caught a glimpse of the witches. There were about ten of them chasing them up the stairs. Some pointed crooked, gnobbly fingers in Rupert’s direction. Others let out menacing cackles. Rupert gulped and ducked back into his pet sack.
    â€œThey’re behind us!” he said.
    â€œDon’t you think I know that?” the witch shouted. “Hold on! It’s about to get bumpy — ”
    And she leaped up the stairs so fast that Rupert thought she was flying — she skipped twenty steps and landed with a
THUMP
just before the top step. The witch flung the bag that held Rupert onto her other shoulder, and she sprinted toward the residential area.

A Lie, the Witches Council, and the Bar Exam
    â€œW HERE ARE WE GOING?” R UPERT ASKED.
    â€œTrust me,” the witch said, stopping at the park.
    The witch ran over to a sandbox, dropped Rupert gently in the sand, and sat down next to him. She snapped both her fingers, and the sand flew up around the edges of the sandbox. Then it converged together above their heads; they were stuck in a sand dome.
    â€œWon’t this be a little obvious?” Rupert said. “A giant sand bubble in the middle of the playground?”
    â€œWitches have eyesight that is five times better than the best human, but they have trouble seeing sand,” the witch said. “Well, they can see it, but it’s slippery on their eyes.”
    â€œSlippery?”
    â€œIt’s like when you’re walking in a crowded street. You certainly see other people — but can you tell me what they look like? It’s because your eyes just see them and slip off. I have narwhal-narwhal vision, and even
I
have trouble seeing it. The only reason I’m better at this is because my eyes are younger and