Read Online Abby the Witch by Odette C. Bell - Free Book Online Page A

So she'd pulled her broom over
the ocean, and taken it down as close to the waves as she
dared.
    Then she'd
spotted it, seen the broken shards of wood and tattered scraps of
canvas mast strewn over the knife-edge rocks. Past the rocks people
flocked, she could just make out the dark shapes moving against the
grey sand.
    She scanned
the water, desperately searched the shattered debris tossing about
in the swell.
    Then she saw
it, or rather, felt it. A break in the storm, a break in
the chaotic, terrible energy. Over to her left - a break in the
clouds.
    She was drawn
to it, hugging the waves, speeding around them as best she
could.
    She could feel
Charlie freeze on her lap. He was probably shouting, probably
pleading with her not to venture near the strange break, but she
couldn't hear him and didn't want to.
    Then she was
upon it, the break in the clouds stretching out above her.
    It was a calm,
a strange calm. Moonlight filtered in from the rift above, a
perfect circular hole in the monstrous storm.
    It was almost
serene.
    Something
white caught her eye, and she looked down through her rain-soaked
lashes to see something sink between the waves.
    She brought
the broom down, her legs plunging into the swell and shoved her
hands into the seething surf. They grabbed onto something and she
pulled with all her might.
    Her broom span
wildly as she tried to lift the man from the clutches of the ocean.
But just as the recognition washed over her, that what she had
saved from the waves was an actual human being, so did a huge
wave.
    Clutching at
the body with both her arms, trying to hurl it across her broom
while keeping Charlie tucked safely next to her chest, she closed
her eyes against the wall of water.
    The ocean
roared.
    Desperately,
with only her legs to steer, she shot out of the water, finally
securing the man in front of her.
    She angled her
broom up, trying to escape the slap of the waves. Up and up and
before she knew, Abby had flown through the break in the
clouds.
    There was a
strange moment, a strange rushing, a strange quiet. The world
seemed to tip: to slant like a framed picture being corrected
against the wall. And then things became very cold indeed.
    But as quickly
as it had begun it was over. The break in the clouds disappeared,
and the storm rolled back in even angrier than before.
    Back was the
drenching rain, the roar of the wind, and slam of the surf.
    She had to get
him to safety, Abby reminded herself, pushing all wonder from her
mind.
    Abby held on
with all her might, willing the man not to be dead, or not to die
before she could get him ashore. She begged her hands not to lose
their grip as she headed for the cliffs, rising higher as the waves
began to burst up from the ocean like hungry hands.
    The ocean
wanted the man back and was more than a little angry she'd snatched
him from it.
    Witches did
not get along with the sea.
    Just as a huge
wave descended from behind, Abby raised the broom sharply and swung
wildly towards the cliffs. She forced the broom into a vertical
rise to climb quicker. The considerable weight of the man, and poor
Charlie squeezed between him, knocked into her and she almost let
go of the broom completely.
    But with one
arm around his middle, the other holding desperately to the broom,
she reached the top of the cliff.
    She didn't
even bother to look if she was alone. Bone-weary, numb, and close
to falling, she crashed into the soaked ground, letting the man
roll off beside her.
    Abby had
managed, at least, to get the man ashore. The storm had not,
apparently, been able to rob her of that.
    ~~~
    It was odd
waking up in an unfamiliar place – especially for a witch. Witches,
what with one thing and another, are usually blessed with a very
keen sense of place. They'll know when someone has been rooting
around their sock drawer and when the fine china cups have been
moved. If someone had broken in to eat their porridge and ruffle up
their fine cotton sheets, they'd have guessed it