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

Two’s chart.
    â€œYes. And the Nebulous Witch used to belong to the Storm Witch back before the Storm Witch got promoted to the Council of Three. So in a way, Storm is . . . she’s the human equivalent of my grandfather.”
    â€œGrand
mother
.”
    â€œYes — Godbrother. That’s what I said.”
    Rupert rolled his eyes.
    â€œBut how are the Undercat, Council of Three, and the Underbelly chosen?”
    â€œWell it mostly goes in age order—the oldest witches have seniority, so they get the better positions. The younger witches just have to wait.”
    If the youngest witch was eighty, Rupert couldn’t even imagine how old the oldest witch must be. Rupert stared at Witchling Two’s chart, looking at all the witches. And then he suddenly got embarrassed. He didn’t want to ask, but he couldn’t help but notice that there were only
women
witches.
    â€œCan you tell me,” he said sheepishly, “where baby witches come from?”
    â€œOh, the same place human babies come from,” she said. “From an egg.”
    â€œAn
egg
?” Rupert snorted.
    Witchling Two nodded. “In Witch Primary School, I had a class on humans. I know all about how they work. The mommy human lays an egg and has to sit on it for three years. Then a human hatches.”
    Rupert opened his mouth to correct her, but then he didn’t really see the point.
    â€œEr . . . good thing you have primary school then,” Rupert said.
    â€œDefinitely!” Witchling Two said, nodding vigorously.
    Rupert stared at the Witches Council list that Witchling Two drew in the sand. She was number two out of five witchlings. The more Rupert thought about this, the more confused he became. Until he finally asked, “Why did you contact a human? There are four other witchlings training for their exam, right? Why wouldn’t you just ask
them
for help?”
    â€œErm . . . well . . . the other witches were all too busy,” she said quickly. “So, I thought I’d get help from a human instead.”
    â€œBut I can’t help you with magic,” Rupert said.
    â€œSure you can.” She patted Rupert’s head, which was still sticking out of the pet sack. “I have a potions book, and so you can help me brew. And you can quiz me on magic, even if you can’t do it yourself. Here — ask me to conjure something up.”
    â€œHow about you conjure me out of this pet sack?”
    â€œWhat?” Witchling Two said. “I didn’t catch that.”
    â€œConjure me a chocolate milkshake with a very long, bendable straw.”
    Witchling Two snapped her fingers. “Milkshake,” she breathed. “Milkshake.”
    CRACK.
    The ground mumbled and rumbled and grumbled. Then it groaned and moaned. The Earth splintered beneath Rupert — the sand underneath him began to jerk. Then his pet sack popped up to the top of the sand dome and Rupert face-planted into the ground. He swallowed a mouthful of sand.
    â€œAn earthquake!
”
Rupert choked, spitting the sand out of his mouth. “I asked for a milkshake!”
    â€œI told you I need practice!” Witchling Two shouted.
    â€œWell
do
something! If you don’t stop this earthquake, the sand bubble will break, and the witches will find us!”
    â€œI know!” Witchling Two said between gritted teeth. Rupert saw a bead of sweat trickle down her round face. Witchling Two snapped her fingers. The ground still shook. Then she snapped her fingers again and again. She snapped about a thousand times before the ground quieted and fell still.
    â€œWas that you?” Rupert breathed. “Did you stop it?”
    Witchling Two shook her head. “To be honest, I think the earthquake just ran its course.”
    â€œAnd how long do we have to stay in the sand?”
    Witchling Two whistled, long and low. “I don’t know,” she said.