On the Other Side Read online

  On The

  Other Side

  N A Wedderburn

  AuthorHouse™ UK

  1663 Liberty Drive

  Bloomington, IN 47403 USA

  www.authorhouse.co.uk

  Phone: 0800.197.4150

  ©

  2016 N A Wedderburn. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

  Published by AuthorHouse 12/08/2016

  ISBN: 978-1-5049-9735-5 (sc)

  ISBN: 978-1-5049-9736-2 (e)

  Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

  and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

  Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter one

  Chapter two

  Chapter three

  Chapter four

  Chapter five

  Chapter six

  Chapter seven

  Chapter eight

  Chapter nine

  Chapter ten

  Chapter eleven

  Chapter twelve

  Chapter thirteen

  Chapter fourteen

  Acknowledgements

  Everyone who knows me is already aware that I am not very good with words, but here is a little thank you message for you all.

  To my parents (mum and mama). Thank you for always putting up with my incessant nagging, always asking for advice or approval on whether the story is ok. And thank you for always encouraging me to keep going. Mum, I’m sorry you never got to read this train wreck, but I am so grateful for all the help you gave. Without you I wouldn’t be the person I am today, and likely would not have got this far with my writing. You were always a source of inspiration and I hope the words reach you anyway.

  To my grandparents. It was at your house that I first really got into the joys of reading. I was always out on the landing choosing a book to read before bed. I’m pretty sure at first I just read the same four books over and over again, but thank you for trusting me to take care of them each time. Grandad, I hope this is able to reach you, too.

  To my friends, siblings and cousins. You are the most amazing and lively bunch of people I know, and as much as I would love to write out individual messages, I know that I’m a slow writer and it would take another 14 years. Thank you for everything. Your support, your enthusiasm, your time, your patience, and for just being you. (Dab squad <>) You all mean the world to me. And Savannah and Harvey, I dedicate this book to you.

  Chapter one

  The autumn sunrise painted the world orange, casting a misleading, warm looking light over the forest. Level with the sun, and looking directly out over the trees, was a cluster of small, straw roofed cottages. Their windows glinted indifferently in the half light, oblivious to the crisp, cold air. Dark green ivy crawled up their walls, twisting around the windows, and each garden was carpeted by a thin layer of frost, half hidden in a low hovering cloud of mist. The only sound was the singing of birds deep within the trees.

  Inside a cottage lost in a patch of large pumpkins and tangles of weeds, a young boy, around the age of fourteen was stirring. His small, twinkling hazel eyes fluttered open, bright with mischief, and curtained behind a mane of tangled, mousy brown hair. His stubby little nose was peppered with freckles, and his mouth appeared to have been painted into a permanent, cheeky smile. He sat up in his bed, yawned, and looked at the small, screaming alarm clock beside him. The sound it was making was a shrill, high pitched cry, loud enough to wake the entire house, and apparently too much for even the clock itself to handle. Two, carved wooden arms protruding from its sides were clutching desperately at the edges of its face in a futile attempt to stop the vibrations. After another lazy yawn, the boy decided to relieve the clock of its pain by clicking his fingers. The screaming stopped abruptly and the clock began to snore, its hands falling limply by its sides.

  “Max! What have I told you about that infernal thing!” the voice of his grandmother shouted up from the kitchen below, matching the clock in shrillness. Max smiled to himself at her expense. Not only did he enjoy winding up his family, but recently the task had become much easier. His clock aside, many of his belongings were unusual for the world in which he lived. Leaning against the wall by the door was an old broomstick, issuing sparks from its handle as though impatient to be ridden; a small, working replica of the solar system hovered near the ceiling in the centre of the room, and the mirror above his bedside table was presently displaying a view of the forest outside. But it was the carpet on the floor, which changed colour when stepped on, the posters plastered on the wood paneled walls, and the alarm clock which were strange.

  This was a time when the mortal and magic worlds were on the verge of uniting. Many still feared the changes this would bring, while others took the opportunity to make money from them. Quite a lot of the things Max owned had been obtained in the mortal world by these enthusiasts, given a magical twist, and re-sold at a much higher price than was fair.

  Max climbed out of bed, stretching and yawning for a third time. This yawn, however was cut short. His bedroom door was flung open suddenly, followed by an enraged cry.

  “MAX!”

  Startled, Max lost his balance and stumbled back onto his bed, just as he realized what he was staring at. Standing in the arched doorway, her hazel eyes blazing with fury, and her long curly hair bright orange, was his sister, Scarlet. Usually, her hair was the same mousy brown as her brother’s, but instead of tangles, it fell in soft ringlets down her back. She had a small, skinny frame as opposed to her chubby younger brother, and her nose was completely free of freckles. “What have you done to my hair?”

  “You like it, then?” Max asked innocently.

  Scarlet thundered across the room and grabbed the neck of her brother’s night gown, pulling him so close their noses were inches apart. “Fix. It. Now!”

  “Ok! Ok!” Max said quickly, pointing the little finger of his right hand at his sister’s hair. A spark of light flew into her scalp, but nothing happened. “Oops…”

  Now so furious it was a wonder she hadn’t transformed into a fire breathing dragon, Scarlet slammed him against the wall. “What do you mean, ‘oops’?”

  “It’s not just a spell,” Max explained. Usually at this point, he would taunt Scarlet until she was ready to explode, but he felt it was unwise this early in the morning, and on such an important day, knowing she may just kill him. “I bought something called hair dye from that new stall at the market, and I’m not sure how to remove it.”

  “Figure it out!” Scarlet snarled, slamming him against the wall one more time.

  Unfortunately, Max had just had a spark of inspiration, and chose that moment to try another spell, which was jolted off course as his back connected painfully with the wall. The spark flew upwards towards the ceiling, bounced off the unsuspecting Jupiter hovering in the air, and sent the small orb zooming out of the open door. They could hear it ricocheting off the walls in the corridor, and eventually down the stairs. The siblings hurtled to the door, pausing only to scramble through at the same time. They made it to the landing just in time to see the miniature pla
net bounce off the bottom step and explode, leaving behind a giant crater inches from the kitchen door.

  “Not good!” Max yelped.

  “I hope that’s not fighting I hear,” their grandmother’s voice warned.

  “No, it’s just Max blowing the house up again,” Scarlet called back angrily.

  “He WHAT?!”

  A loud crash erupted from the kitchen, and their grandmother burst through the door. She started to move out into the hall, but stopped herself just in time to avoid falling into the hole. Muttering angrily to herself, she began a series of chants, waving her right hand over the hole to clear up the mess. Once she was finished, the floor was left virtually undamaged. “Do you really have to break something every morning?” she said, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Unlike her grandchildren, Mrs. Hunter had pale skin, greying hair, and eyes the colour of the ocean. But the shape of her face matched her grandson’s, and her temper matched her granddaughter’s. The same dangerous expression Scarlet wore was etched onto her face as she looked up at the two of them. “Scarlet, what have you done to your hair?” she demanded. But she didn’t fail to notice the way Scarlet glared at her brother, or Max’s futile attempt at looking innocent. “You know what, I don’t want to know. Just sort it out and come down here for breakfast.”

  This was a typical, if not calm morning at the Hunter household. Scarlet routinely became the victim of her brother’s latest pranks, while Max was prone to breaking anything that could be broken. Neither could recall more than a handful of situations in which they had got along. This particular morning, Max sat back and enjoyed the show as his grandmother attempted spell after spell on Scarlet’s hair, trying to restore its natural colour. Despite her efforts, sixteen spells later, Scarlet’s hair was left with visible streaks of orange. “It’s barely noticeable,” Mrs. Hunter lied, shuffling into the kitchen to bring the children their breakfast.

  But, a bowl of porridge later, Scarlet was still unhappy, and it was with a considerable amount of stomping that she headed back upstairs to get dressed. As Max pulled on a mortal ensemble of pale blue jeans, and a long sleeved jacket over a T shirt with a bizarre image of what appeared to be a cat plastered on the front -- although, its features were so exaggerated it was impossible to be sure. It might have been a hamster -- he could hear his sister slamming drawers and cursing loudly in the room next door. A satisfied smile spread across his face as he pulled his bag from beneath his bed, and filled it quickly with school supplies, and a number of suspicious looking items.

  His door burst open once again and he hastily stuffed a small glass bottle between two innocent spell books. “You haven’t packed yet?” Scarlet asked incredulously, staring at the mess. She was wearing clothes more suited to the world in which they lived, if not a little eccentric. She wore a long, puffy red dress and a fancy red cape, complete with oversized hood. Max guessed this was to hide her hair. In her right hand, she was clutching the handle of her bag, in which she had neatly packed her belongings the night before. “Get a move on. You should have been ready ages ago!”

  “I’ve been busy,” Max said shortly, attempting to discreetly pack a thick, leather book bound with string.

  “With that?” Scarlet asked suspiciously. “What is it? What are you planning?”

  “Nothing,” Max lied, wiping sweat from his brow as he pulled his bag closed with difficulty. “Let’s go.” He ambled past Scarlet, waddling slightly as his bag weighed him down, and smirking a self satisfied smirk. Scarlet followed, her eyes still narrowed in suspicion.

  “There you two are!” Mrs. Hunter said when the two reached the landing. She brought one hand up from her hip, whispered several words of incantation, and the bags floated downstairs ahead of the children, losing the majority of their weight before coming to rest on the newly repaired wooden floor. “You’d better hurry, or you’ll be late.” She waited for them to reach the bottom step, then wrapped her arms around Max.

  “Behave, won’t you?” she said, her embrace tightening affectionately.

  “You’re squishing me!” Max protested, feeling as though his head might pop right off. “And why only me?”

  Scarlet gave her brother a look that would turn Medusa to stone.

  Mrs. Hunter released her grandson. “Scarlet is sixteen, already,” she said, her voice strained, as though admitting it caused her some pain. “I can’t help but want to cling to you before you’re all grown up as well.”

  The look of amusement Scarlet had been wearing was wiped instantly from her face when her grandmother turned her attention to her. “Wait a-” she began, but it was too late. Her grandmother had planted a kiss on her cheek. Grumbling, she wiped the spot with the back of her hand.

  Mrs. Hunter didn’t appear to notice. “Could you try to keep your brother out of trouble?” she said, an almost pleading tone breaking through her usually composed voice. “I don’t want another repeat of last year’s first day back. I’m sure that poor Mr. Grimm has twice as many grey hairs since Max started school.”

  “I’m not his keeper,” Scarlet said, but her tone had softened somewhat, and she smiled, hugging her grandmother as Max eagerly opened the front door. “But I’ll try.” The last thing she grabbed before leaving the house was the basket her grandmother had placed by the door, containing lunch for both her and her brother.

  All sentiments were dropped almost before the door had time to close.

  “Let me get a few things straight,” Scarlet said instantly. “No matter what grandma says, I’m not your keeper. You better stay out of trouble because I won’t be covering for you this time. Whatever’s in that little book of yours better stay there.”

  “That’s going to happen,” Max muttered under his breath.

  “Don’t even think of winding up the year seven’s again, either.”

  Max smirked at this. She really expected him not to practice his best tricks on a batch of fresh, unsuspecting victims? Talk about naive. She should have just counted herself lucky it wouldn’t be her for once.

  “…Most importantly, don’t talk to me,” Scarlet went on. “I’m not going to acknowledge you unless I absolutely have to, and I’d appreciate it if you did the same. You’d just ruin my reputation.”

  “What reputation?” Max snickered.

  “Just stay out of my way.”

  “Only if you stay out of mine.”

  “Deal.”

  “Deal.”

  Chapter two

  The low hanging mist had risen slightly, throwing a light haze over the sibling’s vision as they climbed a rickety wooden staircase leading to the higher ledges of the island. They passed cottages similar to their own, each garden wilder than the last, cluttered stalls being prepared for the day’s market by tired looking merchants, and a large, silent arena flanked by two towering ogres. Here the siblings passed in silence.

  At this time in the morning, most people were still indoors, but the eerie silence was broken as the two finally reached a tall, golden fence at the very top of the island. The excited chatter of students already gathered at the shimmering bars was a sudden, yet welcoming sound. Beyond the fence was a field of wild, purple flowers, and a path leading to the small cluster of buildings that made up the school. In the very center stood the old block, which was completely surrounded by an ancient, crumbling wall. The old block looked more like the ruins of a mansion than a school building. It had been built in the 17th century by a man named Humphrey Dumpkins, and was a great symbol of respect for the inhabitants of the island. It had been a very long time since it had been used for lessons, and it was now completely closed off to the public. This was partly due to the unsafe structure, but also to the fact that the building served as a portal to the mortal world.

  As a rare moment of calm fell between the siblings a shadow cast itself briefly overhead, and a pixie landed elegantly to their right, her colourful, butterfly wings f
olding back beneath her short, hooded cape. She was a beautiful creature with large, violet eyes and long, messy black hair pulled up in pigtails, a luminescent green bow sitting atop her feathery fringe. But the thing that caught Max’s attention was her clothes. She wore a mismatch of colours which clashed harmoniously, the garments themselves a mixture both found in the magic and mortal worlds. Apparently, she enjoyed ripping and customizing her clothes, for her short cape, and layered, colourful skirt were torn in several places. She was clutching eagerly at the fence, her eyes bright with excitement. Max wondered whether she was a transfer student. He had never seen her before, and the way she stared at the old mansion suggested she had never seen it in person before.

  There was a moment in which he considered going over to talk to her, but it was short lived for, just then a pair of icy hands pressed themselves over his mouth. His eyes widened and he made a high pitched sound of protest.

  “Jumpy this morning, aren’t we?” a familiar voice chimed in his ear. “I see you followed my advice with the hair dye trick. Good job.”

  “Raven!” Max shouted, his voice a mixture of exasperation and irritation as he spun around. He should have known. The only person with hands that cold was Raven Hatter. Raven was an older boy in Scarlet’s year, who enjoyed practical jokes even more than Max did. He had wavy hair which was dark at the roots, but blond by the time it reached the tips, and his eyes were dark and gleaming. A slightly patched up, yet heavily decorated hat was perched on top of his messy hair.

  Recovering from his initial shock, Max smirked. “It worked like a charm,” he said boastfully. “And it’ll last about a week. Would’ve been longer if grandma hadn’t meddled. What are you doing here, though? I thought you were boycotting school to travel Dream Valley.”