Moonlight Mischief

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Moonlight Mischief
Nathan Reed

Maeve Friel

A seventh magical adventure about everyone’s favourite witch-in-training, ideal for younger readers.Everyone’s favourite Witch-in-Training is back in a whole new magical adventure!Jessica is off to the Witches' Games at Coven Garden to compete in the Witch-in-Training Championship Hurdles, but she soon discovers the other witches are determined to win – and will even use trickery if they have to!With high jinks and low tricks, the seventh book in this sparkling series is sure to please mischievous young magic fans everywhere.

Contents

Cover (#ud769e1c9-6a19-54a3-8db4-53efe70cda3c)

Title Page (#u051a614b-430b-5133-8dfa-27e97d9adf2c)

Chapter One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ulink_dc289f37-b68a-56a3-90f2-7598f8bf5460)

“Two dandelion clocks and a hair from the tail of a big red fox.”

Jessica, witch-in-training, was busy mixing up a brew with her trainer, Miss Strega, at the hardware shop on the High Street when, out of the blue, there was a loud shout from the rooftop.

“Post!”

Jessica vaulted over the counter on her broom just as an envelope came fluttering down the chimney and came to rest on the shop floor.

“Goodness, this looks awfully important,” she said.

At the top of the envelope there was a large black crest in the form of a spider web, surrounded by the words Wishing the World Well.

“It’s a letter from Witches World Wide! And it’s addressed to both of us. I wonder what they want.”

Miss Strega stuck her wand behind her ear and took the envelope from Jessica. “I daresay they are looking for money – our annual fees or something,” she said, as she slid a paperknife under the flap and drew out a stiff white card.

“Well, slap my tummy with a wet fish!” she gasped. “It’s not a bill. It’s an invitation.”

“Yippee!” Jessica leaned over Miss Strega’s shoulder. “Go on, read it out.”

President Shar Pintake of the Witches World Wide Association is pleased to announce that The Extraordinary Moonlight Games will be held at our headquarters, Coven Garden, to celebrate the Blue Moon. Everyone is welcome.

“The Extraordinary Moonlight Games? What do they mean?”

“The Extraordinary Moonlight Games,” Miss Strega explained, “is a special competition that only takes place if there is a blue moon in the seventh month of the witch year – and that doesn’t happen very often. In fact I don’t think there have been Moonlight Games for years and years. That’s why they are Extraordinary.”

Jessica looked baffled. “I don’t understand a word you are saying. The moon is never blue when I vault over it with you. It’s usually pearly-grey or white or sometimes yellow. Are you telling me that the moon is going to turn blue and that the witches are going to play games on it?”

“Actually, sugar plum, a blue moon is what we call the second full moon in a single calendar month. And the Games, as it says here, are held at Coven Garden.”

“I see,” said Jessica, nodding in what she hoped was a clever sort of way, although she was not quite sure that she had understood. “And what sort of Games are they? Do you mean playing cards or chess? Or do you mean games like football or tennis?”

Miss Strega cupped her long chin in one hand. “No, no, perish the thought; witches don’t go in for that sort of stuff at all. It’s more of a showcase for all the magic things that we do – flying, spelling, switching, brewing, charming and chanting. There’ll be everything from extreme sports like Synchronised Moon-Vaulting to individual Charming Demonstrations.”

“Cool,” said Jessica. “So I suppose there are competitions?”

“Precisely, my little tootle pip. There will be spectacular flying displays – watch out for the Ducking and Diving Fours – and, needless to say, there will be masses of Spelling and Brewing Competitions. Dr Krank won last time with a perfect Brew for Shrinking Bullies and your old friend, the actress Heckitty Darling, brought the house down with a stunning routine of Alphabetical Witch Switches. She switched from an ant to a zebra in twenty-six moves in less than a minute. I know she is a terrible show-off but you had to take your hat off to her.”

“And are there prizes?”

“Are there prizes! Of course there are. For each event there’s the Golden Broomstick, the Silver Cauldron and the Bronze Cat. Moonlight Champion Witches are celebrities, always popping up on television, getting their photos in the papers, hobnobbing with wizards and going to the best witch parties.”

Jessica read the invitation again. “Perhaps,” she said wistfully, “there are some events that witches-in-training can enter.”

“Oh yes, indeedy,” agreed Miss Strega. “The junior section is always fiercely contested. Are you going to take part?”

“I shall have a good think about it and then decide.”

“Hunky-dory,” said Miss Strega, propping the invitation on the mantelpiece, “but you had better make your mind up soon. You don’t have much time for thinking.”

“Why not?”

Miss Strega consulted a calendar on the wall. “Because the blue moon rises . . .” her index finger moved rapidly along the dates “. . .tonight!”

Chapter Two (#ulink_85e16abc-2de8-525a-be79-1bd460a67bf9)

Jessica perched on the chimneypot and watched the moon rise. It was one of the brightest moons that she had ever seen, like a giant party balloon that had lost its string and floated up into the sky. But the most peculiar thing about it was that, slowly but surely, it was turning bright blue.

Jessica blinked and blinked but, every time that she opened her eyes, there it was, bluer than ever.

“Come on,” said Miss Strega, climbing through the attic window and clambering aboard her broom. “We must fly. We don’t want to miss the opening ceremony.”

The sky was very busy. Witches were streaming in from every direction – east, west, north and south and all points in between. Jessica had never seen so many – nor in so many different shapes and sizes and colours. There were huge giant witches with hooked noses and greasy, wide-brimmed hats; there were small twinkly witches with currant-bun faces; there were even some old-fashioned witches flying their broomsticks the Wrong-Way-Up. But best of all, she noticed excitedly, there were several other witches-in-training.

“Hi!” she yelled, taking both her hands off her control twigs to wave at them.

She was practically fizzing with excitement by the time the moonlit walls and roof turrets of Coven Garden came into view.

Jessica had often been to the witches’ headquarters at Coven Garden before, even travelling back in time to see Dame Walpurga of the Blessed Warts, the witch who had invented the Modern Witch’s Right-Way-Up Broom. In Dame Walpurga’s time, Coven Garden was no more than a little cottage with a well and a hawthorn tree, but now it was enormous, like a walled city, bristling with towers and arched gateways. It had always seemed a bit scary-looking to Jessica (perhaps because she had had to take her Flying and Spelling Tests there too!), but tonight, in the light of the blue moon, it looked fantastic. She could hardly wait to descend on to the roof.

Unfortunately, there was only one narrow landing strip between the chimneypots, and the witches who were in charge of Flight Control were having a bad day.

So many broom riders were approaching the roof at the same time that there were long hold-ups. Everyone had to stack up on top of one another and circle around on their brooms until Flight Control called them down.

“Great honking goose feathers!” Miss Strega muttered impatiently. “If there is one thing I can’t stand, it’s queueing. If only we could find out how many witches are ahead of us.”

“Hu-eet,” whistled Jessica’s mascot nightingale, Berkeley, her usual helpful self. She popped out of Jessica’s cloak pocket in a cloud of biscuit crumbs and bird seed and sped off to find out what was going on.

When she returned a few minutes later, she was all a-flutter.

There had just been a very nasty crash, she told them. Some witch-in-training had got fed up waiting in line and had hurtled towards the rooftop at the same time as another was landing. Boom! Crash! They collided at full speed, banging their heads and toppling off their brooms in a heap of legs and twigs and cloaks and helmets and squealing mascots.

“Come on, Jessica!” said Miss Strega. “Press your Emergency Descent twig! They may need help.”

Sadly, by the time Miss Strega and Jessica had landed on the parapet, things had got much worse.

The crashed witches-in-training had managed to disentangle themselves but they were now having a colossal row.

“You blinking road hog!” shrieked one of them, picking her scrunchie off the floor and gathering her long hair back into it.

“Call yourself a broom rider!” the second one spat back. “I’ve seen fish flying better than you.”

Then, as Jessica and Miss Strega looked on, appalled but fascinated, the two witches-in-training started putting transformation spells on one another.

“You’re no better than a spiky old hedgehog,” screamed Ponytail.

“You’re nothing but an old bat,” the other cackled back.

And as if that weren’t bad enough, they started putting spells on anyone who tried to stop them. And then they started putting spells on anyone who got in their way.

Soon, the roof was crawling with giant cockroaches and honking hogs, while monstrous moths and old bats and horseflies buzzed and flitted around the roof tiles. Miss Strega and Jessica quickly fled for cover behind a chimneypot and peeped around it.

“By Walpurga’s Blessed Warts!” exclaimed Miss Strega. “What a lot of hocus pocus! All this – and the Games haven’t even started.”

“Who are those witches-in-training?” Jessica was flabbergasted. “They’re a bit scary, but I wish I could spell as well as they can. They’re lightning fast.”

As she spoke, a very distinctive and blood-chilling sound brought everyone to their senses. It was the President of the W3, Miss Shar Pintake, noisily drawing in her breath and sucking her teeth as the doors of the glass lift slid open and she stepped on to the roof. She looked very presidential and imposing in her ceremonial dress – black velvet cape, tall witch’s hat, turquoise and yellow stockings and a sash in the W3 colours of sage and purple – but she was clearly hopping mad.