Near the castle’s front door grew an old Smoke tree, Psorothamnus spinosus, its sheltering branches heavy with clusters of brilliant purple flowers.

  Mr. Ravel parked the dented golf cart beneath its canopy and let everyone out.

  He tipped his cap to Carly. “I’ll take her around back,” he said, patting the golf cart’s steaming hood. “She’s still hissing like a snake.”

  Carly nodded. “You know where.”

  Without another word, he drove off toward the side of the castle, disappearing into the storm.

  Carly threw open the arched door, and the children dashed inside.

  “Whew! It’s raining cats and dogs out there!” proclaimed Old Lady Marbles.

  Inside the grand entrance hall, a gilded crystal chandelier cast a warm amber glow across rustic stone walls and a red wool carpet that stretched the length of the floor. Antique furniture gleamed with brass trim and ornaments, and two full suits of armor—plumed helmets and all—stood watch by the door.

  It all made a rich first impression… until Marco heard a raindrop plink into a pail. Then another. And another.

  Buckets were scattered across the floor, quietly collecting leaks from the ceiling and windows above.

  Upon closer inspection, he realized the castle and everything in it was quietly crumbling.

  Both suits of armor were rusting, with parts scattered at their feet.

  The chandelier hung heavy with cobwebs, and many of its quirkily mismatched bulbs were burnt out.

  The red carpeting was stained and spotted, and aside from the streaks of water from the current roof leaks, the old stone walls and ornate furniture looked like they hadn’t been wiped down in years.

  Carly hung up her old straw boater hat and fixed her hair in the mirror.

  She sat on a wobbly brass bench that squeaked when she moved, then took off her wet shoes, encouraging the children to do the same.

  “Olivia!” Carly called.

  No answer. She raised her voice. “Olivia!”

  A surprisingly young girl, perhaps sixteen, stepped into the castle’s entrance hall.

  Her eyes were puffy and tender. She gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth as if holding back tears.

  Carly introduced her to the soggy Kitten Brigade. “This is my granddaughter, Olivia.” She turned to her and said gently, “Olivia, we have guests.

  Put on some of that delicious vegetable soup you’ve been working on, and I’ll make sandwiches.”

  Olivia nodded. Still looking as if she was about to cry, she kept her hand over her mouth and ran off.

  “Is she alright?” asked Old Lady Marbles. “That little sweetheart seems a tad upset about something.”

  With a little distance in her voice Carly explained. “Oh, these days she’s always like that. Always on the verge of tears.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “What is this place?” Marco asked. He thought he’d seen all the local landmarks, but his parents had never mentioned an old castle.

  “Are you a queen?” asked Lemon, wide-eyed.

  The conversation was interrupted by the loud clank of the castle’s metal doorknocker echoing through the hall.

  Carly looked mystified. “Now who could that be?”

  Standing from the bench, she cautiously opened the door.

  Outside, in the wind and pouring rain, stood the scary, blue-eyed water witch and a very wet Anton and Ginger Cookie-Montebello, crouched together beneath a colorful umbrella.

  “Oh no! The witch!” Lemon cried, darting behind Marbles to hide.

  The stoic water witch stood soaking wet and unprotected in the midst of the storm.

  He calmly said to Carly, “I found these two out in the good rain. They were searching for your young friends.”

  Ginger reached out a wet hand and introduced herself with her usual assertive grace. “Hello, I’m Ginger Cookie-Montebello, and this is my husband, Anton. We were caught in the storm while searching for three others—an older woman, a teenage boy, and a young girl. Have they made it here?”

  Marco watched as the witch pulled a long wooden divining rod from his belt. The smooth wood was sun-bleached and cracked, but looked hard as stone.

  Holding its forked handle loosely in his hands, the tip began to bounce slowly up and down, seemingly of its own accord.

  The soaking wet water witch looked at Carly and said, “I tracked them here.”

  He paused, then added carefully, “They carry a strange energy… it has a strong pull.”

  He tested it at different angles, revealing through the rod’s mysterious tugging, the direction it was drawn to most.

  As he moved closer, it twitched and bobbed faster, jerking with such force it was nearly impossible to hold.

  Then, suddenly, it stopped.

  The forked tip froze in place. Hovering six inches from Marco’s head.

  “Ah,” declared the water witch. “It’s coming from that one.”

  “Me?” said Marco. “Um… okay.”

  Embarrassed, he glanced at Marbles and Lemon and gave a sheepish smile.

  Carly turned to Ginger and Anton, still standing outside in the downpour.

  “Well, don’t just stand there! Come get in out of the rain!”

  They stepped inside, and Carly shoved the door closed against the wind.

  Soaked through, Anton looked unhappily at the three kids. “You had me very worried. Why weren’t any of you answering your phones?”

  Marco pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He’d forgotten he’d turned down the volume while they were hiding inside the dumpster.

  He began to explain, “We had to turn the sound off. We were—”

  “We were chasing after the cat,” Marbles interrupted. “The weather alerts went off on all our phones, and the loud noise was scaring it. So we turned them off.”

  Curious, Marco asked Anton, “How did you find us?”

  The scary water witch stared at Marco and slowly repeated himself: “You carry a strange energy. It has a strong pull.”

  He waved the tip of his wooden divining rod in circles just inches from Marco’s nose. Dramatic and unnervingly precise.

  Everyone stood speechless for a moment, awestruck by the striking oddness of the water witch.

  “Um…Yes,” Ginger said, brushing rain from her sleeve, “that—plus a bit of latitude and longitude.”

  She held up her phone. “I embedded trackers in all your Kitten Brigade hats. It was time for a field test.”

  A pause, then a dry smile. “Worked beautifully. You led me straight here.”

  Marco ripped off his hat and stared at it. “Oh.”

  So the pokey wires weren’t just bad sewing. They were science.

  “Well, almost,” Anton interjected. “Things got a little confusing once we reached the garbage dump. Then it started to pour, and our golf cart broke down… weather predictions are useless!” He shook his head. “We were just about to give up and head back to the clubhouse when we ran into this kind gentleman—who could ‘point’ us in your direction.”

  The water witch smiled and nodded to them. His deep blue eyes once again settled on Marco.

  Raising an eyebrow, he said, “The water likes that one.”

  “Well, isn’t that nice.” Carly offered a cautious smile to the witch, then turned to the others. “Why don’t you all join us for lunch?”

  She called out, more sharply this time, “Olivia!”