Read Online Syren by Angie Sage - Free Book Online

can’t have,” was Maureen’s sensible reply.
    Simon—who knew more about these things than Maureen realized—was not so sure. “It’s my fault,” he said miserably. “Ishould have gone with her to the market.”
    Maureen tried to comfort him. “Now, you can’t go blaming yourself, Simon,” she said. “Lucy has a temper on her. We both know that.” She smiled. “She’s probably just gone off in a huff. You’ll see. She did that for a whole week once when she was here.”
    Simon was not to be comforted. He shook his head. “But she wasn’t in a temper. She was fine. I have a bad feeling about this, Maureen. Oh, if only I had Sleuth.”
    “Had who?—ohmygoodnessthey’reburning!” Maureen rushed off to rescue the next batch of pies.
    Simon watched Maureen flap away the smoke with a dishcloth. “I’ll try and Trace her steps once more, Maureen, then that’s it. I’m going to go and get Sleuth.”
    “What’s Sleuth, some new detective agency?” Maureen asked, inspecting a blackened sausage-and-tomato pie. “Rather them than me. The last one around here got burned down. Looked even worse than this bunch of pies.”
    “No, Sleuth’s my Tracker Ball,” said Simon. “Marcia Overstrand stole it.”
    Shocked, Maureen looked up from her pies. “The ExtraOrdinary Wizard stole a ball?”
    “Well…she didn’t exactly steal it,” said Simon, trying his best to stick to his new resolution to tell the truth at all times. “I suppose she kind of confiscated it, really. But Sleuth’s not just any old ball, Maureen. It’s Magyk. It can locate people. If I can get Marcia to give Sleuth back I could make it find Lucy, I’m sure I could.”
    Maureen tipped the entire contents of the tray into the garbage with a regretful sigh.
    “Look, Simon, don’t you go worrying too much. Lucy will turn up, I’m sure she will. If I were you, I’d forget any thoughts about all that Magyk stuff and keep looking around here. You know what they say—if you wait on the old quayside long enough, everyone you have ever met will pass by. You could do worse.”
    “Yeah…I suppose you’re right,” muttered Simon.
    “Of course I am,” said Maureen. “Why don’t you go and do that? Take a pie with you.”
    Out of the corner of his eye, Wolf Boy watched Simon pick up a bacon-and-egg pie and walk out of the shop. Through the steamed-up window he saw Simon walk slowly along the harbor wall, eating his pie, deep in thought. It was a very different Simon from Wolf Boy’s last encounter. Gone was the hooded,menacing look in his eyes and the feeling of Darkenesse that had surrounded him. If he hadn’t recognized the voice, thought Wolf Boy, he would not have known him.
    Wolf Boy left the pie shop and followed some steps down to the water, which took him safely out of Simon’s way. He sat watching some tiny crabs burrow into the damp sand and, fending off repeated attacks from the notorious Port gulls, he munched his way through a cheese-and-bean pie, a beef-and-onion pie and a particularly delicious vegetable-and-gravy pie. Then he put the other two pies in his backpack and consulted the map. It was time to go and do what he had come for. It was time to call on the Port Witch Coven.

8
T HE P ORT W ITCH C OVEN
    W olf Boy was not often nervous, but as he stood on the suspiciously slimy steps of the House of the Port Witch Coven, a flock of butterflies began playing football in his stomach. There was something about the battered old front door with its black peeling paint and Reverse writing scrawled from top to bottom that scared him. He reached deep into his tunic pocket and brought out the note that Aunt Zelda had insisted he not read untilhe was standing on the very doorstep of the Coven. Wolf Boy hoped that the sight of Aunt Zelda’s friendly handwriting would make him feel better. However, as he slowly began to read the note, it had quite the opposite effect.

    Aunt Zelda had written her note on special paper that she