Once Upon a Wave of Witches: A Beatrice & Amelia Adventure: The Adventures of Beatrice & Amelia, #1

Once Upon a Wave of Witches

Copyright © 2023 by Helen Whistberry and Eli Belt

All rights reserved.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the authors, except in the case of brief quotations for the purposes of critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact Helen Whistberry through their website at: www.helenwhistberry.com

All interior illustrations, cover design/illustration, and formatting by Helen Whistberry © 2023

From Eli:

To Angelia, who inspired Coral, I only wish I could have made you immortal too

To my cousin Gabbi, who loved the tale

And to my coauthor Helen, who insisted we should share this with the world and not just a story we told ourselves

From Helen:

Most anything that astounds the reader in this volume can be attributed to my coauthor Eli, who has the most amazing imagination in all the world

And as always, to my sister, who inspired my writing and art journey

Contents

Content warning

Illustration: The Key

1.Moving House

Illustration: The Compass Tattoo

2.Quiet Days

Illustration: The Lighthouse Mosaic

3.Tale of a Sea Witch

Illustration: The Cloud Building

4.Floating

Illustration: Damselfly and Dragonfly

5.Skyboat

Illustration: Cloud Jellyfish

6.The Observatory

Illustration: The Dragonfly Skyboat

7.The Journey Begins

Illustration: The Snow Cub

8.Beatrice in the Bitter Lands

Illustration: The Seal Tattoo

9.The Loss of a Friend

Illustration: The Heron Carving

10.Coral’s Advice

Illustration: The Oobble

11.A Meeting

Illustration: Moon and Star

12.A Dangerous Discovery

Illustration: The Battle

13.Beatrice Departs

Illustration: The Moon Journal

14.Return to the Lighthouse

Illustration: Sea Turtle

15.Beatrice’s Plight

Illustration: Crutches and Song

16.Stormy

Illustration: A Witch is Born

17.A Wave of Witches

Illustration: Owl and Leviathan

18.A Rescue Party Gathers

Illustration: Cloud Skydragon

19.Fungi Ridge

Illustration: The Omes

20.Wrath of the Kraken

Illustration: The Fungi Pilgrims

21.Blessed Babies and a Pirate’s Tale

Illustration: A Wishmaker Flower

22.Travels with Stormy

Illustration: The Island

23.A Reunion

Illustration: Coral's Storm

24.Lying to Coral

Illustration: The Doorway of Lost Souls

25.Beatrice is Very Brave

Illustration: Beatrice's Mind

26.Stormy in the Labyrinth

Illustration: Bathing under the Stars

27.Bix to the Rescue

Illustration: The Star Map

28.Another Departure

Illustration: A Pillar of the Deep

29.The Pillars of the Deep

Illustration: The Kraken's Door

30.Return to the Labyrinth

Illustration: Coral in the Kraken's Embrace

31.Breaking the Curse

Illustration: Amelia and Friends

32.Going Home

Acknowledgements

About the Authors

Content warning

Content warning for limb loss/amputation, brief violence, depression and trauma

Chapter 1

Moving House

Beatrice Buttons felt an itch, followed by a twitch. Her toes wiggled and jiggled and implored her to wake up and get going. It was the morning of her fifty-seventh birthday, which could mean only one thing: Moving Day!

The owner of an adventurous and restless spirit, she was filled with a yearning to experience as many different places and meet as many different folks as was possible in one lifetime. So, every year on her birthday, she packed up the few things she wanted to keep into a pair of saddlebags and rode off on her trusty companion, Sir Walks-a-lot.

Sir Walks-a-lot was a nuff, a sloth-like creature that walked on its stupendously long front legs while its hind legs had great sails like a bat’s wings that enabled it to fly shorter distances by catching the passing breezes. Their soft, fur-covered backs bent into a shape not unlike a plush wingback chair, allowing a rider to travel in comfort. They also had happy and affectionate natures, making them the perfect traveling companion.

As for Beatrice, she wasn’t particularly tall or wide or anything out of the ordinary for the people of Lichen. She had silver-gray skin, celadon green eyes, and dark brown curls mixed with stray white hairs sticking out like snowy twigs of straw. Her small delicate-looking hands belied their strength and cunning, and she loved to wear clothes with exuberant patterns on them so she would always have something beautiful and exciting to look upon.

Some years, Beatrice and her nuff wandered for weeks looking for a new house, setting up camp each night under a patchwork quilt tent. Dinner was most often a steaming bowl of forager’s stew with Bea’s findings of the day from forest and stream, and a pitcher of ade made with moss-filtered water and the hard-rinded, bright gold limonberries that grew plentifully in thorny bushes along the road. She whiled away her evenings whittling fantastical creatures from fallen branches of soft basswood and set out each morning well-rested and with a merry heart.

This year, her journey lasted no more than a day before she and Sir Walks-a-lot came upon a marvelous covered bridge over a brook that gurgled loudly with laughing waters. The roof was shingled in bright blue tiles glittering in the sun, and the walls were a lattice of wood and colorful glass. Built into each side of the bridge were sliding doors that led out to small balconies overlooking the creek with long wooden benches on them for resting.

It was such a pleasant spot, Beatrice lingered there for an hour, watching the nuff lazing in the sunlight on the banks and gazing down at small silvery fish that darted about in the shallows below her. If it were possible to hug a bridge, she would hug this one because it filled her with so much joy, for she delighted in all things whimsical and pleasant. She was so relaxed, she hated to get up, but instinct pulled her onward down the cobblestone road into the distance.

Impatient to find out what was over the horizon, she urged Sir Walks-a-lot on until they crested the hill. A thrill ran down her spine at the sight of a large house painted as pink as the first blush of dawn. While the color was certainly eye-catching, it was the nine rounded turrets that really excited her. Beatrice was a connoisseur of turrets and immediately started mapping out a purpose for each of them: a conservatory, a library, an astronomy tower, a cocoon for napping. The possibilities were endless.

In the land of Lichen, people changed their houses the way hermit crabs change their shells. Whenever they got restless, the size of their family grew or shrunk, or they simply got bored of their old decor or location, they would pack up their things and move on in search of a new dwelling-place, leaving the old one behind so someone else might make use of it. Nobody paid rent or fought over houses. There was always the perfect number and style to suit every person at any given moment but first you had to find an empty house. Beatrice kept all her fingers and toes crossed that this house would be empty and waiting for its next tenant.

Jumping down from her patient nuff, she strode up the wide front steps to a door made of sea glass with an inlaid mother-of-pearl frame. A large, black filigree door key rested in the lock with a note attached to it by a pink ribbon:

Welcome! This house has been loved by all who entered its doors. May it surround you and protect your hopes and dreams. Each of us who have occupied these walls have added to their splendor. Feel free to add your own touches while preserving that which is already here. Don’t forget to leave the key in the door when you choose to move on!

Delighted at these friendly words, Beatrice turned the key and went in. There was a slightly dusty, musty smell such as any house will get when it is unlived in, but dancing rainbows of light bouncing along the walls enticed her on. The right front room had large windows that were hung with crystal prisms causing the kaleidoscope of cascading colors.

She started removing dust covers from the furniture, marveling over the elaborately carved scrollwork in the dark wood and the floral-patterned chairs and sofa. In one corner was a rolltop desk with a typewriter and a ream of blank paper that gave her an idea of one way she might pass her time in this delightful place once she was settled in.

Roaming from room to room, she set down a few of her belongings in each one as though to claim it for her own as she examined the things left behind by previous tenants. Her favorite discovery was a teapot shaped like a baby elephant with its trunk for a spout and its tail curled into a handle.

Beatrice’s stomach rumbled at the thought of tea. Although the house was nicely-equipped with furnishings and kitchen utensils, the pantry cupboard was bare. She grabbed her foraging pouch and a wide-brimmed sun hat and went out exploring to see what she could find.

Searching the land behind the house, she was pleased to discover an abundance of root vegetables, wild herbs, grains, and fruits. She meandered through a field of wildflowers back to the covered bridge and crossed over to investigate another path winding deep into a forest. The trail looked well-used, so she followed it, hoping to find a near neighbor for company, and came upon a large clearing with a modest two-story house.

The house was unremarkable except it was painted an unusual dusky purple color. The door was bright turquoise and covered with hand-painted blooms of every variety. A screened-in porch wrapped around the building with a swing and rocking chairs to sit in and enjoy the cool breezes while watching butterflies and bees and every other kind of insect flitting among the exuberant flowers. Tickle blooms, moss berries, midnight moon lilies, and stepstone bells were just a few of the plants Beatrice recognized in the colorful garden.

A kindred spirit lives here, thought Beatrice, for she was a lover herself of insects and flowers and all inhabitants of nature.

She danced her knuckles across the front door confidently, eager to meet her new neighbor. There was no answer from within although a small wild black rabbit came up from the garden to investigate, flicking its soft ears and sniffing at her in fearless curiosity.

Is anyone here? Beatrice asked the rabbit.

It gave no reply but loped away around the corner of the house, looking back from time to time as though to say, come along, follow me.

Amused, Bea followed the animal and discovered a woman who looked to be near her own age kneeling and weeding a vegetable garden. Unlike Beatrice’s own tangled up bird's nest of curls, the woman had sleek and abundant silver hair a few shades lighter than her gray skin. It was braided and looped around her head several times with still enough left for a long tail that trailed down her back to her ankles. She was all bones and angles with light lavender eyes that flashed silver in the sunlight.

Hello! Beatrice called out cheerfully only to be brought up short when she was met with a fierce frown.

What do you want? the woman asked.

I just moved into the pink house across the bridge. I’m out exploring and wanted to introduce myself to my new neighbors.

Did the family who lived there leave? I didn’t realize.

Yes, lucky for me. It’s a fantastic place. So many turrets!

A little ostentatious for my taste, but I’m glad it has found a tenant. An unoccupied house has the tendency to go to rack and ruin.

I’m Beatrice Buttons.

Amelia Arrowheart.

Have you lived here long?

All my life.

What!?

It was rather a rude thing to say, but Beatrice couldn’t help exclaiming at this extraordinary piece of information. She’d never met any Lichen who hadn’t changed houses countless times over the course of their lives. It was one of the best things about being a citizen, this freedom to roam. Afraid she’d offended her new acquaintance, Beatrice was relieved to see Amelia smile thinly.

It’s unusual, I know, but I’ve always been happy here and it took me a long time to get my garden the way I want it. I simply don’t have the roving spirit that possesses most Lichens. What do you have there? she asked, pointing toward Beatrice’s foraging bag.

Some odds and ends I picked up. There’s no food in the house, so I’ve been trying to gather enough for a decent tea.

Give it to me and I’ll see what I have to add to it. You might as well come in if we’re to be neighbors, although I’ll warn you now, I’m not the sociable type. You’ll find me moody and quiet. It’s just the way I am, and I never put on a show for others.

Sounds like what I see is what I get then, said Beatrice. I like that.

We’ll see, replied Amelia, with a cynical expression.

They entered the house through a back door into a welcoming kitchen with red-painted cabinets and wooden counters. Amelia invited Beatrice to sit at a small round table in one corner and set a plate of pound cake and a pot of limonberry jam before her guest to tide her over while she brewed up a cup of tea and rooted through the foraging bag.

As she worked, Amelia pulled off the light sweater she had been wearing over her sundress to protect against the chill forest breeze. Beatrice was amazed to see the woman’s arms were completely covered in tattoos from shoulders to the backs of her hands.

The first one she recognized was a pirate’s head, complete with a tri-cornered hat and one squinty eye that winked at her. Eat yer cake, lass. The captain and I will throw some more vittles together, proclaimed the pirate.

Did… did…

Did my tattoo say something? Amelia smiled slightly. It did. His name is One-Eyed Jack. I’ve lived alone since my parents died. My tattoos are my dearest friends and somewhere along the way, they learned to talk to keep me company. I hope you’re not too shocked. Most people are and think me a witch, so I usually hide them.

Actually, I’ve traveled all over Lichen and seen many a stranger thing in my time. I think it’s delightful. Almost makes me want to get a tattoo of my own, but I’ve always been too scared.

Scared? And yet you’ve moved all over and traveled far by yourself?

I guess we each have something we’re afraid of.

Too true.

Amelia whipped up a quick soup with the ingredients Beatrice had found, adding in some vegetables from her own garden while Jack the pirate kept up a running commentary. They sat down and ate companionably enough, although Beatrice was unnerved to see Amelia staring at her with uncanny intensity.

Finally, the woman reached out a finger onto which a miniature black and white jumping spider flew from Beatrice’s hat. Amelia relocated the tiny creature to a windowsill by an open window where it could hunt and go free if it wished.

Glad you aren’t afraid of spiders, said Beatrice.

I love them and all wild creatures.

Me too!

A small thought crowded into a corner of Amelia’s mind, casting an as yet dim light in the gloom that habitually gathered there: Could this be a true friend, at last?

Chapter 2

Quiet Days

Achartreuse tree frog crouched on Beatrice’s shoulder, its long tongue dangling from its mouth, but Amelia decided not to mention it. She had learned in the weeks since she’d met her new friend that she couldn’t domesticate her any more than Beatrice could drag a conversation out of Amelia when she wasn’t in the mood to talk. Amelia wouldn’t chide a nuff for not using a napkin or scold a frog for chirruping too loudly as this one was doing, so she never fussed at Beatrice’s wild ways either.

In return, Beatrice was learning to accept Amelia’s moods, which ranged from sunny as a bright yellow tickle bloom to as dark as a richly fuschia mamaberry. It was strange, being so unlike her own personality, but Beatrice respected the right of all beings to be exactly who they were and never asked any more of any creature that crossed her path.

They often met up at the covered bridge and sat side by side on one of the benches, Beatrice creating her whimsically whittled wood carvings while Amelia drew and wrote in her journal, chatting more and more comfortably together as they grew used to one another.

Do you think you’ll stay here long, Bea? Amelia asked one day.

I don’t know. It’s the nicest house I’ve lived in yet, and you’re one of the nicest friends I’ve met, Melia, but I have a restless spirit. I love to travel and would probably be happy roaming forever. I’m afraid you’d be a bit like this piece of basswood if I tried to take you with me though. Whittling away to nothing by worry of the unknown.

You’re right. I am a homebody, but I enjoy hearing about your travels.

Is that a map of them you’re making? Beatrice nibbled on a hard-boiled egg from the picnic basket they had brought with them and peered over Amelia’s shoulder.

Manners. This might be private.

Private? Beatrice asked.

Sssssome of ussss aren’t ready to ssshare every sssssingle thought or creation, came a lisped reply from the bright red snake tattoo that slithered and curled around Amelia’s right forearm. Its forked tongue tested the air, sniffing out the egg Beatrice held in her hand with interest.

Make the varmint walk the plank, argh! cried Jack.

Beatrice frowned and stuck her own tongue out at the pirate tattoo. "Is that how you feel, Amelia, or are your ink friends voicing their own