Flabberghast immediately turned for the staircase.

“Uh-uh-uh…” sang the witch, waggling her finger in the air. Strands of red lightning shot out from her fingertips, stretched across to Flabberghast and grabbed hold of him. He froze mid-dash. The witch turned her outstretched hands palm up and slowly wiggled her fingers. The red lightning forced Flabberghast to turn around against his will. His terrified eyes stared at her.

“You. Who are you?” demanded Nine, her mouth dry and her heart thumping.

“Who am I? You mean he hasn’t told you?” said the witch, giving Flabberghast a look of disapproval. She tutted. “I’m his sister.”

“Of course! It’s the nose!” said Nine, looking at the witch’s flared nostrils. “That’s what looks familiar.” Then another thought struck her as she looked from the witch to Flabberghast. Good grief. There’s two of them.

Things started to make sense. The disagreement between the witch and Flabberghast … the way she knew his worst fears… “But what is it that you want?” said Nine.

The witch smiled sweetly again. “Revenge.”

“For what exactly?” said Nine, cautiously.

“This ridiculous excuse for a wizard turned my hair pink for Auntie Griselda the Unruly’s wedding. I detest pink!”

“Well, she cursed my hopscotch robes!” said Flabberghast, “in the middle of the championships! Every time I hopped I turned into a rabbit!”

The witch let out a shrill, tinkly laugh then stopped suddenly and narrowed her eyes. “He turned my pet dragon into a toy and then made him vanish!”

“She froze me in time for a week – I missed my own birthday!”

Nine stared at them in disbelief. “A squabble. This is about a squabble?”

“He BANISHED me from this House!”

“It was only going to be until you apologised—”

“Me apologise?” laughed the witch. “You didn’t even do the spell terribly well, dearest. You cast it over the House but forgot to include the crypt in the banishment!”

“A slight miscalculation! I just forgot to include anything below ground!”

“I realised your unbelievable stupidity when I delivered the letter yesterday. Strolling round the outside of the House, for old times’ sake,” she sighed dramatically. “There was a break in the magic, right around the back door to the crypt. Did you forget about that, dearest? Down the stone steps underground?”

Flabberghast grimaced. “But it was still a charm of immense complexity!”

“Oh yes,” said the witch, her voice becoming smooth. Dangerously smooth. “And now, brother dearest, do tell them what you said through the letterbox after you banished me. Tell them why I cursed this House.”

Flabberghast tightened his lips and said nothing.

“No?” said the witch. She twisted her wrist and pointed at Flabberghast’s leg. A red light zapped out from her fingers, striking Flabberghast on the shin. He yelped and bent over, rubbing his leg. Without looking, Eric hoisted the wizard back into an upright position.

“Ah, maybe some games will loosen your tongue,” said the witch, strutting backwards and forwards across the stone flooring. The sound of her boot heels echoed around them. “I love games.”

“Never would have guessed,” said Nine.

The witch smiled at her, showing a row of perfect white teeth. “You. Yes, you. You’ve done quite well to get so far,” she said. “With your brainless troll, your kitchen utensil and your pathetic excuse for a wizard.”

“They are not ‘mine’,” Nine said, but the witch just smiled knowingly then looked at Flabberghast.

“And fancy you having friends. I thought I was the only one who would put up with you!”

Flabberghast glared at her as the witch sauntered on. She stopped in front of Nine and stared intensely at her. Nine shifted uncomfortably but held her ground, staring back, digging her nails into her clenched fists. The witch looked at her with a mix of curiosity and pity, then leaned forward and put her mouth to Nine’s ear.

“Still no strawberries?” she whispered. Nine gasped and momentarily unclenched her fists. She stared at the witch, who strutted back to the middle of the crypt.

“Too much talking, not enough playing,” sang the witch impatiently. She reached both hands above her head as if she were holding an imaginary sphere. The gap between her hands took the form of the glowing not-a-moon – the hexagonal clock. The three hands whizzed round and the small sword hand was nearly back at the 15. She threw it upwards, where it hovered in mid-air.

“Oh and look: you’re so nearly out of time. I wonder what it will feel like, being shrunk out of existence. Squishy, I suppose.”

“The Revenge Curse should be broken!” said Flabberghast as his sister strutted around the crypt, poking the stone effigies on top of the tombs. “We made our sacrifices. I said the magic words!”

The witch span around to face him. “The magic words?” She tapped her cheek thoughtfully with a long, perfect nail and smiled. “Oh! Brother dear, I’m disappointed in you. Surely you don’t think these are the magic words, do you?”

She raised her hand in the air and twisted her fingers into a closed fist. The parchment appeared again. ‘The magic words are: SONG WIN WAR’, then it crumbled to dust and dropped to the floor, leaving just the red, sparkling letters hanging in mid-air. Nine eyed the witch cautiously.

“How decidedly dull. Where is the fun in telling you the exact words?”

“But—” began Nine, then she stopped. Because there was a sudden, stony grinding sound.

“The Sometimes Dead!” whispered Flabberghast. “I think they’re doing the Sometimes Not Dead bit.”

Eric whimpered and began rummaging in his dressing-gown pocket for sweets. Spoon pointed his sword around the crypt. Nine watched in horror as, one by one, each of the nine stone effigies seemed to come to life, sliding slowly from the top of their tombs and standing on two definitely Not Dead legs. Their stone eyes rolled backwards and two solid, cloudy-blue ovals sat in their place. Their noses all had the same flared nostrils.

“Who are they?” said Nine as every muscle in her body tensed.

“Distant relatives from our family tree,” said Flabberghast. “There’s Marvin the Merciless. That one with the dagger is Agatha the Rather Short-Tempered. Millicent the Goat-Eater with the sword. And that’s Sybil the Particularly Fond of Biting and—”

“Biting?!” said Nine.

The witch gave a little cry of satisfaction. “Oh, I adore family reunions! Did anyone bring sandwiches?” She stepped away from the clock, which remained glowing in the air. “Three minutes to go, Flabberghast. Perhaps we should … liven things up a little.” She began to skip in a circle around Nine and the others.

“Oh no. Not skipping,” murmured Flabberghast. “It never ends well when there’s skipping.”

Nine twisted her head, watching for any moment of explosive trickery. Something was coming…

The witch skipped around them, pointing to the glowing clock and singing:

“Girls and boys come up to play,

The moon doth shine as bright as day.

Leave your supper and leave your room,

And join your playfellow –”

She stopped and smiled darkly at them.

“– IN THE TOMB!”

The witch twisted her hands again, then thrust them out to the sides. Each of the red, sparkling letters flew towards a Sometimes Dead, Sometimes Not person and burned itself into their stone chests. Their bright blue oval eyes instantly turned red. The witch smiled. There was a united stony stomp as all the figures took a step towards Nine and the others – all the figures except one, which held a long, stone staff.

“Ignatius the Permanently Late!” said Flabberghast. There was a little solitary stomp as the staff-bearing statue took a step to catch up with the others.

“Come, come, don’t be shy,” said the witch, skipping around the statues and twisting her fingers in a sharp motion. The figures took another step forward. Ignatius took another step forward. With a stiff, grinding sound, Sybil the Particularly Fond of Biting opened her jaws unnaturally wide to reveal sharp, stony teeth. Marvin the Merciless raised his sword. Agatha the Rather Short-Tempered raised a dagger.

The witch moved behind Sybil, who lifted her hands in a throat-gripping motion.

“I know, Auntie Sybil,” she said, “he does rather have that effect on people.” Another stony stomp echoed through the crypt. Another solitary step echoed after.

“So what stops the Sometimes Dead from being Sometimes Not Dead?” asked Nine, edging closer to the others.

“Er – what?” said Flabberghast.

“WHAT MAKES THEM STOP TRYING TO KILL US?” shouted Nine.

“Oh! I believe at some point they simply get bored of being alive again and go back to being dead. Of course, that was before they had –” Flabberghast glared at the witch – “PURE EVIL IN A DRESS controlling them.”

The witch smiled sweetly and pointed at Flabberghast. A jet of red light shot out of her finger disintegrating Flabberghast’s nightcap into little flakes of ash that floated mournfully to the stone floor.

“Oi!” Flabbergast snapped. “I liked that nightcap!”

“Old-fashioned, tatty and barely suitable for purpose,” said the witch airily. “Yes, it suited you so well, brother dear.”

“I say we take them on,” said Spoon.

“Nine stone statues. Three idiots and me. No chance,” said Nine. “Your sword would end up blunter than Eric’s sentences.”

“Eric sentence?” said Eric, puzzled.

Flabberghast looked around. “What do you want from us? What do you want us to do?” he called out angrily.

“You know what you need to do to break the curse, Flabberghast,” the witch’s voice oozed silkily through the air. She stepped out from behind one of the pillars and stepped back again. Then she appeared from behind the pillar opposite. “What you’ve always had to do.” She disappeared behind the pillar again.

Then they all startled as a voice behind them hissed, “Say the magic words.”

By the time they had turned around to look at the witch, she had gone again. Nine looked rapidly at all the pillars – behind them – above them: where was she? What was her next move? As if in reply, a soft red glow appeared at the end of the room. It faded away to reveal the witch sitting sideways on the stone throne, her legs kicked lazily over the side.

“You’ve only ever had to say the magic words,” said the witch. She clicked her fingers and the statues took three steps forward. Ignatius caught up.

Nine, Spoon and Eric all turned to look at Flabberghast, who looked flabbergasted. “SONG WIN WAR! I’ve said the magic words.”

“Oh Flabberghast. Do use your brain, dearest. I know it hurts.”

“Well?” demanded Nine, turning to Flabberghast. “If those aren’t the magic words, what are?”

“I – do – not – know!” he said, pulling at his hair.

“Shame,” said the witch, examining a fingernail. The Sometimes Dead all took another step closer and formed a line, closing ranks.

“Enough nonsense!” Spoon hollered and leapt towards Ignatius the Permanently Late. Without turning its head the statue raised its free hand, caught the spoon in mid-air and clasped its stony fist shut around him. Spoon’s little sword tinkled to the ground and his spindly legs kicked wildly in mid-air. “Put me down! I’ll have your head for this!”

“Say the magic words, Flabberghast,” the witch sang, swinging her booted legs carelessly.

“But I don’t KNOW—”

“Getting bored now,” sang the witch with a sharp edge in her voice. She waved her hand carelessly and the statues all stepped towards them and didn’t stop. Ignatius the Permanently Late stamped his staff on the stone floor a moment after. Dust and fragments of stone rained down on them from the ceiling.

“She really is going to kill us,” coughed Flabberghast. “What do we do?!”

The statues stepped forwards. Ignatius stepped forwards. Nine, Eric and Flabberghast backed away until, with an unwelcoming thump, they felt the damp chill of the subterranean stone wall on their backs. There was nowhere else to go. Nine’s eyes widened as the statues aimed their swords, daggers and staffs right at them. Sybil licked her lips with a stony tongue.

“Song win war. Song win war,” muttered Flabberghast quickly. “What – what – do you want me to sing?”

“Heavens, no,” called the witch from the throne. “You’re always off-key. Now tick tock, tick tock, you’re nearly out of time, Flabberghast.”

Nine glanced at the clock, still hovering in mid-air. There was a hair’s breadth before it hit 15. Still on the throne the witch stretched out her arms, and her hands formed into twisted claw-like shapes, the fingertips glowing glittery red. She flicked her hand towards Marvin the Merciless. In a heartbeat, the statue reached forward, grabbed Flabberghast, twisted him around to face the others and pinned his sword across Flabberghast’s throat.

“Stop it!” hissed the wizard.

“And spoil the fun?” said the witch coolly.

Agatha the Rather Short-Tempered pointed her stone dagger towards Nine, ready to strike. Suddenly, Eric let out a roar of panic and dashed forwards, shielding Nine from the statue. But a click of fingers came from the other end of the crypt. Red sparks shot from the witch’s hand…

…and Eric froze.