Read Online Witch & Wizard by James Patterson, Gabrielle Charbonnet - Free Book Online
Authors: James Patterson, Gabrielle Charbonnet
Tags: FIC002000
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DIPPED THE TOOTHBRUSH in the gray-watered toilet and scrubbed another inch of floor. I was singing as if I had lost my mind, and probably I had.
“I’ve been working on the railroad, all the livelong day.”
By this time I’d been through every single
good
song I could remember the lyrics to—and believe me, there are a
lot
—and now I was at the very bottom of the barrel, reaching back to preschool days. I used to be the ultimate karaoke queen, because I grew up with my parents always playing all kinds of music at our house: old stuff, new stuff, classical, blues, jazz, rock, pop, and, yeah, even hiphop. I’m talking everything from Toasterface to Ron Sayer to Lay-Z.
That’s how freaking cool my parents were. I mean,
are.
That fleeting bittersweet thought of my mom and dad got me out of the scrubbing groove, and I had to belt out the song even louder to reboot. Clearly, Whit wasn’t interested in listening.
“So, the Visitor seems afraid of fire,” Whit said, leaning against the wall for a work break.
“Yeah, Whitford,
most
people don’t freak out when somebody suddenly bursts into flames,” I said, rolling my eyes. “What a wuss that Visitor is.”
“We’re a witch and a wizard. What does that even
mean?
” Whit continued. “It’s been a long time since I’ve read any fairy tales. I couldn’t even tell you what witches and wizards are supposed to do… except—shouldn’t we at least be able to do things
on purpose,
instead of all this stuff we have no control over?”
“I know. If I had a dime for every ‘
alakazam
’ I’ve done where nothing happened, I’d be able to buy a brand-new wardrobe. With a cute purse-size dog to match every outfit.” I paused, my arm aching. “Wait. I take that back. I don’t even
want
that. I want—”
Whit interrupted my reverie. “There has to be a point—”
His voice was clipped by a strangled gulp. I jumped to my feet. Whit was staring at his arm.
So was I.
His hand had sunk right into the wall.
Not “sunk” like he’d busted his fist right through the cement. More “sunk” like, I don’t know, the molecules that made up the wall had rearranged themselves around his hand.
“Um, can you take your hand
out?
” I asked. “Please try.”
A concerned look crossed my brother’s face, but he removed his hand without any obvious pain or resistance. We both examined it: same old hand. Then he put it against the wall and gently pushed again. The hand sank in several inches, its outline blurring beneath the wall molecules.
“I can only go in up to my elbow,” he reported. “After that, the wall sort of firms up again.”
I shook my head. “Totally bizarre. But useful? Not so much. Not unless you can go all the way through. For God’s sake, don’t put your head in there,” I said.
Whit’s muffled voice came next.
He had stuck his head in the wall.
“You won’t believe this!” His words were garbled. “Total mindblower.”
Whit
I BLINKED—YOU KNOW, like, whoever blinks first loses.
I could see… a total shadow world. It looked like a whole other dimension, another reality. Everything was black, or gray, or tinged with glowy green. I could make out fuzzy shapes moving and staticky snippets of distorted conversation.
It was kind of like watching a horror movie on an old TV with incredibly bad reception.
Wisty had started pulling on my shirt from the other side of the wall. I could barely hear her voice, which freaked me out in itself.
Some of the shadows were getting clearer—because they were coming closer, which I didn’t particularly appreciate so much.
“Just stay where you are,” I tried to say, but my voice was lost. Then one of the shadow people turned toward me anyway, like it could hear.
It sure looked like a human form. Then the mouth opened—nothing but a shapeless splotch in a dark shadow world. If the figure was saying something, I couldn’t understand.
Slowly, it approached—cautiously. Then I
“I’ve been working on the railroad, all the livelong day.”
By this time I’d been through every single
good
song I could remember the lyrics to—and believe me, there are a
lot
—and now I was at the very bottom of the barrel, reaching back to preschool days. I used to be the ultimate karaoke queen, because I grew up with my parents always playing all kinds of music at our house: old stuff, new stuff, classical, blues, jazz, rock, pop, and, yeah, even hiphop. I’m talking everything from Toasterface to Ron Sayer to Lay-Z.
That’s how freaking cool my parents were. I mean,
are.
That fleeting bittersweet thought of my mom and dad got me out of the scrubbing groove, and I had to belt out the song even louder to reboot. Clearly, Whit wasn’t interested in listening.
“So, the Visitor seems afraid of fire,” Whit said, leaning against the wall for a work break.
“Yeah, Whitford,
most
people don’t freak out when somebody suddenly bursts into flames,” I said, rolling my eyes. “What a wuss that Visitor is.”
“We’re a witch and a wizard. What does that even
mean?
” Whit continued. “It’s been a long time since I’ve read any fairy tales. I couldn’t even tell you what witches and wizards are supposed to do… except—shouldn’t we at least be able to do things
on purpose,
instead of all this stuff we have no control over?”
“I know. If I had a dime for every ‘
alakazam
’ I’ve done where nothing happened, I’d be able to buy a brand-new wardrobe. With a cute purse-size dog to match every outfit.” I paused, my arm aching. “Wait. I take that back. I don’t even
want
that. I want—”
Whit interrupted my reverie. “There has to be a point—”
His voice was clipped by a strangled gulp. I jumped to my feet. Whit was staring at his arm.
So was I.
His hand had sunk right into the wall.
Not “sunk” like he’d busted his fist right through the cement. More “sunk” like, I don’t know, the molecules that made up the wall had rearranged themselves around his hand.
“Um, can you take your hand
out?
” I asked. “Please try.”
A concerned look crossed my brother’s face, but he removed his hand without any obvious pain or resistance. We both examined it: same old hand. Then he put it against the wall and gently pushed again. The hand sank in several inches, its outline blurring beneath the wall molecules.
“I can only go in up to my elbow,” he reported. “After that, the wall sort of firms up again.”
I shook my head. “Totally bizarre. But useful? Not so much. Not unless you can go all the way through. For God’s sake, don’t put your head in there,” I said.
Whit’s muffled voice came next.
He had stuck his head in the wall.
“You won’t believe this!” His words were garbled. “Total mindblower.”
Whit
I BLINKED—YOU KNOW, like, whoever blinks first loses.
I could see… a total shadow world. It looked like a whole other dimension, another reality. Everything was black, or gray, or tinged with glowy green. I could make out fuzzy shapes moving and staticky snippets of distorted conversation.
It was kind of like watching a horror movie on an old TV with incredibly bad reception.
Wisty had started pulling on my shirt from the other side of the wall. I could barely hear her voice, which freaked me out in itself.
Some of the shadows were getting clearer—because they were coming closer, which I didn’t particularly appreciate so much.
“Just stay where you are,” I tried to say, but my voice was lost. Then one of the shadow people turned toward me anyway, like it could hear.
It sure looked like a human form. Then the mouth opened—nothing but a shapeless splotch in a dark shadow world. If the figure was saying something, I couldn’t understand.
Slowly, it approached—cautiously. Then I
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