‘Deidre Halloway!’ Miss Spinnaker gasps. ‘She’s tracked you down! You two have to leave, Polly. And fast!’

‘I told you that little witch was trouble!’ Zeke shrieks, swinging himself up into a tree. ‘This is all her fault!’

As the first bolt from Deidre’s wand shoots from the sky, the monsters duck for cover, hiding in huts and diving into bushes. The bolt cracks into the earth, leaving a long scorch mark across the grass that ends only inches from Polly’s feet. She jumps backwards in fright. Only Miss Spinnaker and Carmen stand their ground.

‘Miss Spinnaker,’ Polly yells over the commotion. ‘Your wand is here. In the bushes! I brought it with me.’

Miss Spinnaker doesn’t take her eyes off the sky for a second. Polly watches her lips flutter and, instantly, the wand soars into her outstretched hand, like a pin to a magnet. She holds it out in front of her just as the next electric-green bolt shoots towards them. Miss Spinnaker deflects it with her own bolt and it bounces back into the sky.

‘Coward!’ hisses Carmen, her fists tight against her hips. ‘Come down here and fight me! Then we’ll see who’s the strongest!’

‘Polly!’ Miss Spinnaker says again, even more urgently this time. ‘Go! Now! My broomstick is by the big morpett tree just outside the clearing. Fly straight home and don’t stop. We’ll keep Deidre distracted while you escape. Just follow the line of pall trees and they will take you back into town.’

‘But what about …?’ Polly stutters.

‘Polly! Buster! Now!’ Miss Spinnaker yells, just as another bolt comes cracking towards them. Miss Spinnaker is distracted by Polly’s dithering and a small bush to her left bursts into flames.

Buster doesn’t need to be told twice. He swings Polly up onto his shoulders and gallops out of the clearing.

Polly catches a glimpse of midnight blue velvet in the bushes. ‘Miss Spinnaker’s bag!’ she yells, and Buster snatches it up and tosses it to Polly without missing a beat. They arrive at the big morpett tree and see Miss Spinnaker’s old broomstick leaning up against it.

Polly jumps off Buster’s back. She picks up the broomstick and turns the long wooden handle around trying to work out how it starts. It is an old-fashioned model, which means there are no buttons or levers and, for a moment, Polly is stumped.

She takes a deep breath to calm herself, then she remembers. Holding the broomstick handle firmly in both hands, she rubs the bristles along the leafy forest floor in firm, brisk strokes.

Come on, old broomstick! she begs.

The broomstick sputters and smoke drifts from the bristles, but nothing else happens.

Buster watches on in dismay. ‘It’s not going to start!’

‘Yes, it will, Buster. It’s just old.’ She scrapes the bristles against the ground again and again, but nothing happens.

‘Try the stones!’ Buster yelps.

‘What?’ says Polly.

‘The stones!’ Buster repeats. ‘In your pocket. They’re magic, aren’t they?’

Polly pulls the pouch out of her pocket and rubs it against the handle.

‘Hurry, hurry, hurry!’ murmurs Buster.

‘I’m doing what I can!’ says Polly, her heartbeat in her ears.

‘Polly,’ says Buster, swaying nervously from foot to foot as the noise of the witch battle gets louder and louder. ‘Maybe we should just run?’

Polly blocks out Buster’s nervous chatter. She blocks out the noise of the woods. She focuses only on the stones and imagines them sending their energy deep down into the broomstick handle. Suddenly they burn hot and the broomstick sputters to life.

‘Jump on!’ Polly yells.

She clambers onto the stick and feels Buster climb on behind her, his arms closing tightly around her waist.

‘Oh, Polly,’ he moans. ‘I don’t like broomsticks. I really don’t like them at all!’

‘Just hold on!’ Polly yells, pulling the tip of the handle towards her. The broomstick judders twice, then soars upwards.

The monster’s hideout is soon spinning away from them, getting smaller and smaller as they crash through the branches towards the sky.