Untitled Starfell #2 (Starfell #2) - Dominique Valente Page 0,1

ago and never quite got rid of him since.

Willow sighed, then glanced at Oswin with a frown. ‘Never mind how I look. Nolin Sometimes has been captured!’

Oswin sat up fast, releasing a puff of blue coal dust into the air. In his outrage, his fur went from the colour of lime cordial to bright pumpkin in an instant – one of the side effects of his koboldish heritage. He blinked large, lamp-like eyes and his ears flattened to his skull in shock. ‘WOT? Why’d they take ’im?’

Willow shook her head. ‘I don’t know! Maybe he’s made someone a bit cross or something?’

The kobold shrugged a shaggy shoulder, as the idea of Nolin Sometimes making someone a bit cross was entirely possible.

He couldn’t exactly help it. As a forgotten teller (or an oublier, to use their official name), Sometimes had visions of other people’s memories when he was around them – even the shameful ones. To make matters worse, he then blurted these secrets out loud. He didn’t know what was happening when the memories washed over him, so he couldn’t control this. Still, it made some people a bit angry … Murderous even, if the stories of what had happened to some of the other forgotten tellers over the years were true … And the trouble was, when Willow stopped to think about it, Nolin Sometimes could have been taken by just about anyone really.

She looked at the leaf-scroll again, as if hoping it would offer something – anything – else to help her find him. But aside from a tiny splodge that looked a bit like a flower, where the ink had run next to the forgotten teller’s name, there was nothing. Willow sighed and paced the dusty attic floor, leaving a small trail of sock prints behind. Then she tried to use her magic again, hoping that this time it would just work. But the problem was that lately it just wouldn’t.

Unbidden, her sister Camille’s voice flared in her mind. ‘Well, I’ve never been unable to use my magic before, not even when I had rumble fever and was nearly on my deathbed. But then I suppose it’s hard to lose a really powerful ability. Maybe yours was so weak, Willow, that all it took to make it disappear was a really good sneeze.’

Willow took a deep breath and pushed her sister’s annoying voice out of her mind. She was fairly sure magical abilities didn’t just disappear with sneezes.

Mostly sure.

‘Just focus, Willow,’ she said aloud, picturing her friend’s wild white hair, skinny frame, and the way he always had so many pockets filled with strange plants. She tried with all her might to find him, but nothing happened.

Until … something did.

Something a bit unfortunate, which began with a rather loud popping sound and the familiar wailings of a certain kobold.

‘Oh noooo!’ cried Oswin. ‘Oh, me GREEDY aunt, why’d yew CURSE me to live with witches?’ He dived out of the stove and shot into the much-repaired and patched-together green, hairy carpetbag near Willow’s feet, which started to shake violently.

Willow shut her eyes, afraid to look. She heard about it, though, soon enough.

There was another loud pop, followed by a bellow from her mother downstairs.

‘WILLOW MOSS! WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT TRYING TO USE YOUR MAGIC BEFORE YOU’VE RECOVERED?’

Willow swallowed. ‘Um. That I shouldn’t?’ she mumbled, reluctantly opening an eye, only to blanch. Most of the attic had vanished. What remained was the single floorboard on which they stood.

It had all disappeared.

From the kitchen below, her mother and oldest sister, Juniper, were staring up at her with identical FURIOUS expressions.

‘I – um … erm … Sorry, Mum,’ stammered Willow.

This was bad enough, but things were about to get a whole lot worse rather quickly.

Juniper frowned, then looked at the empty seat next to her and paled. ‘W-where’s Camille?’

Willow scrunched up an eye, afraid to witness what would no doubt come next. Her mother looked from the empty seat back to Willow accusingly, her lips stretching into a thin, angry line. ‘You had better not have made your sister disappear. Again.’

Willow bit her lip, then shared a look of commiseration with Oswin, whose eyes were peeking out of the bag in fright.

‘Oh no …’

2

Magic Most Peculiar

It had started with the spoons.

No one could say for certain if the dessertspoons went first or the serving spoons, but, by the time the teaspoons had vanished throughout the village (and no one could make a decent cup of tea, which was enough reason