Unexpected Magic by Diana Wynne Jones

join Theo on the veranda. I heard Theo snap at him.
    Eggs took an uncertain step that way, then put his hand to his face. “What is this?” he said. “This room is chasing its tail.” It was clear the “juice” had caught up with him.
    â€œI think you’re drunk,” I said.
    â€œDrink,” said Eggs. “I must get a drink from the faucet. I am dying. It is worse than being remade.” And he went blundering and crashing off into the windowless room.
    I jumped up and went after him, sure that he would do untold damage bumping into cauldron or candle. But he wove his way through the medley of displays as only a drunk man can, avoiding each one by a miracle, and reached the kitchen when I was only halfway through the room. The hum of the crystal apparatus held me back. It dragged at my very skin. I had still only reached the cauldron when there was an appalling splintering crash from the kitchen, followed by a hoarse male scream.
    I do not remember how I got to the kitchen. I only remember standing in the doorway, looking at Eggs kneeling in the remains of the glass table. He was clutching at his left arm with his right hand. Blood was pulsing steadily between his long fingers and making a pool on the glass-littered floor. The face he turned to me was so white that he looked as if he were wearing greasepaint. “What will you do, Lady?” he said.
    Do ? I thought. I’m a vet. I can’t be expected to deal with humans! “For goodness’ sake, Eggs,” I snapped at him. “Stop this messing about and get me the Master! Now. This instant!”
    I think he said, “And I thought you’d never tell me!” But his voice was so far from human by then it was hard to be sure. His body boiled about on the floor, surging and seething and changing color. In next to a second the thing on the floor was a huge gray wolf, with its back arched and its jaws wide in agony, pumping blood from a severed artery in its left foreleg.
    At least I knew what to do with that. But before I could move, the door to the outside slid open to let in the great head and shoulders of Annie. I backed away. The look in those light, blazing eyes said: “You are not taking my mate like she did.”
    Here the chiming got into my head and proved to be the ringing of the telephone. My bedside clock said 5:55 A.M . I was quite glad to be rid of that dream as I fumbled the telephone up in the dark. “Yes?” I said, hoping I sounded as sleepy as I felt.
    The voice was a light, high one, possibly a man’s. “You won’t know me,” it said. “My name is Harrison Ovett, and I’m in charge of an experimental project involving wild animals. We have a bit of an emergency on here. One of the wolves seems to be in quite a bad way. I’m sorry to call you at such an hour, but—”
    â€œIt’s my job,” I said, too sleepy to be more than proud of the professional touch. “Where are you? How do I get to your project?”
    I think he hesitated slightly. “It’s a bit complicated to explain,” he said. “Suppose I come and pick you up? I’ll be outside in twenty minutes.”
    â€œRight,” I said. And it was not until I put the phone down that I remembered my dream. The name was the same, I swear. I would equally swear to the voice. This is why I have spent the last twenty minutes feverishly dictating this account of my dream. If I get back safely, I’ll erase it. But if I don’t—well, I am not sure what anyone can do if Annie’s torn my throat out, but at least someone will know what became of me. Besides, they say forewarned is forearmed. I have some idea what to expect.

Enna Hittims
    A nne Smith hated having mumps. She had to miss two school outings. Her face came up so long and purple that both her parents laughed at her when they were at home. And she was left alone rather a lot, because her parents