CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Zeke was walking. He had his glove on his head, and he was holding a wooden bat in his left hand. In his right, he tossed a baseball. He would drop it onto the bat, let it bounce, and catch it. Then he would drop it, bounce it twice on the bat, and catch it. Then he would drop it, bounce it as many times on the bat as he could, and lunge for it when it hopped off to the side. His record was thirteen while walking, twenty-two stationary. He was walking to Frank and Dotty’s house to find Henry. It was early, but he wanted to hit for a while and still have time to take Henry outside of town to the abandoned Smythe farm. Before the daily game started, he wanted to show him the old car in the horse stall and the rusted-out tools in the loft.
When he reached the steps to the front porch, he stopped. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, and the ball skipped off the side of his bat into the grass. He bent over, picked it up, and continued on to the porch. He could hear the phone ringing inside. He opened the screen door and knocked. Then he opened the front door.
“Henry? Mrs. Willis, is Henry here?” The phone kept ringing. Zeke stepped into the house and looked around.
“Mrs. Willis?” he yelled again. A black cat ran down the stairs in front of him and stopped about three steps up. It sat, and stared. Zeke yelled again, this time louder.
“Mrs. Willis?” The phone stopped ringing, and he heard something upstairs. He stepped onto the bottom stair and listened. The cat didn’t move.
“What?” he shouted. He thought he could hear one of the girls yell something back. He’d better wait a minute. He didn’t just want to walk right up. He reached down to scratch the cat’s ear, but there was a large bald spot, an oozing sore on its back that wrapped down around its side and chest. He didn’t know how he’d missed it. The cat didn’t have a collar.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here,” he said. “Mrs. Willis would probably take you to the vet if we had one, but I’m not as nice.” The cat opened its mouth and hissed at him. Zeke stepped back, then he held his bat out over the cat and tapped it on the back.
“C’mon,” he said, and tapped it again. The cat turned and tried to run up the stairs, but Zeke flipped it onto its side and dragged it writhing down the stairs with the bat on its belly. At the bottom, it flipped quickly back onto its feet and tried to bolt around him. Zeke kicked it, herding the cat with the bat and his feet toward the front door. He leaned over, pushed the screen door open, and tossed the cat onto the porch with his foot. He let go of the screen door, and it slam-rattled shut as the cat collected itself and jumped back toward the house.
Zeke expected the cat to run away, but it stood on its hind legs, clawing at the screen and staring at him with angry eyes. Zeke rubbed the scratches on his calf and shin, then turned to look back into the house.
“Hello?” he yelled up the stairs. “Can I come up? Is Henry here?” This time he heard a voice from somewhere, muffled but much clearer.
“Don’t come up!”
“Is that you, Penny?” he asked, but the phone started ringing again. “I’ll wait,” he added, and then sat on the bottom step, listening to the phone. But he wasn’t patient. When the ringing stopped, he stood again and looked up the stairs.
“I’m coming up!” he yelled. “Just through to Henry’s room!”
“Don’t!” It was Anastasia.
“Why not? Is Henry here?”
“No, he’s not!” It was Penelope’s voice.
“Anastasia?”
“Yeah?”
“Where’s your mom?”
“She’s up here, too.”
“Are you okay?”
Anastasia didn’t answer. Neither did Penelope. Then one of them screamed.
Zeke ran upstairs.
Penelope and Anastasia sat on the floor by their parents. Dotty’s breath was rattling in her throat. Frank breathed easily, but a pool of blood grew in the carpet at his side. The door boomed and rattled again.
“You are young to know how to shut a door so well. Has someone shut it for you?”
Anastasia crept to the door, put her eye to the small hole, and looked out, directly into the eyes of the black cat. The woman was holding the cat to the door. She laughed. Then she coughed, and it didn’t seem that she would be able to stop. But she did, and when she did, she spoke again.
“Your blood is familiar to me, but it is not strong enough for this magic. I have met your sister, and she was weak. She is with the boy Henry?”
Anastasia opened her mouth to answer, but Penelope poked her and put her finger to her lips.
“You do not need to answer me,” the witch said. Her voice was harsh. All sweetness was gone. “Henry’s blood is stronger. Just a little of his life has given me much.”
The door rattled again. Plaster on the wall cracked. “And I’ve known your mother. I met her before she grew old and fat. Her weak blood runs in your veins. Francis was bolder. We will see if she wakes or if the sleep keeps her. I remember your grandsire, though the earth now chains him. I even knew your mother’s grandsire for a little while. It has been long since your family disturbed my mother’s rest in the cold darkness, but it is always your family.
“I thought the way had been lost, but disturbance came again. Where is the boy Henry that pricked me? I do not smell him.” She grew silent. The girls could hear the phone ringing downstairs.
Anastasia put her eye back to the door and saw the woman bend down and place the cat on the floor. The cat, crouching, hurried down the stairs.
“She doesn’t know what the phone is,” Anastasia whispered to Penelope. “She sent the cat downstairs to find out.”
Then the woman coughed, and Anastasia saw her face.
She had no eyes. Where her eyes ought to have been were swollen sores, red against her white skin. Around the sores were the trailing scratches of fingernails. Her head was shorn near-bald, but the stubble of her hair was dark.
Anastasia heard the front door open and the screen door slam. Someone was yelling.
“It’s Zeke,” Penelope whispered. “He shouldn’t come up. She’ll gas him to sleep or something.”
“Penny,” Anastasia said. “She doesn’t have any eyes. She must be blind. Is that why she can smell us?”
“Don’t come up!” Penelope yelled. Then the two of them sat and listened. They could hear Zeke yelling for their mother.
“He didn’t hear you.”
“Don’t come!” Penelope yelled. “Up!” she added. They both listened.
“The phone stopped ringing,” Anastasia said. “Do you think he answered it?”
“Zeke wouldn’t answer somebody else’s phone. I hope he leaves.”
“Penny, do you think she was lying about Mom maybe not waking up?”
They both looked at Dotty, breathing slowly on her back. Blake was lying on her stomach.
“I think Mom will be fine. I don’t know about Dad. There’s a lot of blood—coming from his mouth, too—and I don’t know what to do.”
They heard Zeke again. The cat was hissing somewhere. Blake walked to the door, and Anastasia stood up and stuck her ear against it. She pulled back quickly.
“The door’s hot,” she whispered, and she ducked down to peer through the hole again. This time she couldn’t see through it. It had been plugged.
“What is Zeke doing downstairs? He really should go.” Penelope yelled again while Anastasia looked for something to poke through the hole. The screen door slammed downstairs. The phone was ringing again.
“Penny, I think she’s trying to burn the door down.”
“Don’t come up!” Penelope yelled.
“Stop worrying about Zeke,” Anastasia said. “We have to figure out what we’re going to do.”
“I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“Because you like him,” Anastasia muttered.
Penelope wheeled on her. “Everybody likes him, and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t want a witch to gas him.”
“Because you love him.”
“Stop it, Anastasia!” Penelope’s voice hardened. “This is not the time.”
Anastasia sniffed. “We have to figure out what we’re going to do if the witch gets the door open.”
“Well, there’s nothing really that we can do,” Penelope said. “She won’t get it open. Dad never could.”
Anastasia dug her little finger into the keyhole. “Dad isn’t a witch.”
“Yeah,” Penelope said. “But he used a chain saw.”
“I’m coming up! Just through to Henry’s room!” Zeke’s voice was loud and clear.
“Don’t!” Anastasia yelled.
“Why not? Is Henry here?”
“No, he’s not!” Penelope yelled.
“Anastasia?”
“Yeah?”
“Where’s your mom?”
“She’s up here, too,” she said.
“Are you okay?” Zeke shouted.
The girls heard a scraping behind them, and Blake jumped off Dotty. One of the windows was open a crack, and the black cat was squirming through it. Penelope screamed, and Anastasia ran to the window and pushed it down. The cat’s howl mixed with Penelope’s while Anastasia pushed the window back up and tried to shove the cat’s head out. It bit her hard on the hand and dug its front claws into her wrist and pulled itself in. She shook her arm out the window, but the cat was wrapped around it. Then Blake was wrapped around it as well.
Anastasia jumped up and down beside the window, jerking her arm as the catfight climbed around it. The two cats flew off and out the window and rolled down the roof over the front porch. Anastasia looked at her bleeding arm, then watched as Blake broke free and ran back toward her. When he was in, she slammed the window hard, sat down on the bed, and tried not to cry. Blake was already relaxed, licking his own slight wounds next to her. The black cat pressed its face on the glass of the window, turned, and left.
“Who are you?” Zeke asked. The woman stood on the landing and smiled at him. Her hair was long and black and seemed to be catching all of the light on the landing. Her pale eyes were the loveliest gray, or green, or blue, that he had ever seen. But there was something strange about them.
“I’m the girls’ godmother,” she said. Her voice was lovely. He wanted her to talk more. “I’m staying for a little while.” Zeke stepped up one more stair, but her eyes didn’t follow him. Not at first.
“Why didn’t you say anything? I was yelling.”
“Were you?”
“Yeah.” Zeke stared at her. She was perfect, but he didn’t think he would like it if she tried to touch him.
“Is Henry here?” he asked. “I heard the girls screaming, so I came up. Why didn’t they want me to?”
“Oh, they were being bathed and the cat startled them.”
This made no sense at all to Zeke, but he didn’t argue. “Is Henry here?” he asked again.
“I wonder? I was looking for him myself. I have something for him. Come here, and I will give it to you. You may pass it on when you find him.”
“Zeke?” Penelope’s voice came through the door. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Zeke said.
“Is the witch gone?” Anastasia asked. Zeke looked at the mutilated door to Grandfather’s room and then back to the beautiful woman. She was still smiling.
“Your godmother’s out here.”
“What?” both girls said.
“Your godmother.”
“She is not!” Anastasia yelled. “Run, Zeke, quick! She’s a witch, and she’s already gassed Mom and Richard, and Dad’s hurt!”
Zeke stepped back down another stair. Again, the woman didn’t notice. She turned from the bedroom door and smiled toward where Zeke had been standing.
“We’ve been at all sorts of games today,” she said, and then she started laughing. Her laugh was extraordinarily pleasant. Zeke couldn’t leave. But then she coughed, and his stomach tightened. She coughed again, and this time he saw clearly. The woman’s hair was gone, and he didn’t know what had happened to her eyes. But it was only a moment. She was laughing again, and beautiful. He stepped quickly up the rest of the stairs and onto the landing. He put his back to the wall across from her, next to the attic stairs, and watched, trying not to breathe. He was gripping his bat. The woman smiled even more broadly, put a finger to her lips, and looked where Zeke had just been standing.
“Do you know—” she began in a whisper, but stopped. Her nostrils flared only slightly, and then she turned her head slowly, faced Zeke, and poured her smile out on a spot on the wall just beside his head.
“Do you know of any other way into the room?” she whispered. “They have locked me out, and if I do not find a way to catch them, then I have to mix them a lamb pudding. Perhaps Henry could help? We could go find him together.” She took a careful step toward Zeke, and then another. He slid slightly to the left. He saw her nose twitch, and she adjusted her course. Then he slid back, and one step later, she followed him. She was too close to him already, but he waited.
“Some openings,” she said, still smiling, “require boy’s blood.” Her hand, holding a small knife, flicked out toward him. He hopped up onto the attic stairs and jumped down behind her. He bumped into her as he jumped, and her arm swung out and around, but too slowly. She no longer tried to hide her flaring nostrils as she spun around, sniffing until she faced him.
“Wretch,” she said. “Torturing my cat—my eyes. One sliced finger is all I need, but I’ll slice more than that. I’ll store you deep in the darkness, where they only feed on faeries. You’ll be left alive enough to feel it.”
Zeke was still backing up in front of her. He had both hands on the bat, and this time he was going to swing. But she stopped.
“Faeries?” she said to herself. “Faeries?” She laughed. “My mind has been too long wandering if I have missed a closing spell of the faeren.” She turned from Zeke and stepped toward Grandfather’s door.
Henry opened his eyes and spat out Henrietta’s hair. Air was moving on his face. That hadn’t happened since the two of them had crawled into the cupboard. Henrietta, still sleeping, shifted beside him. It was less dark than it had been, but it still wasn’t light. He was extremely stiff. He levered himself up onto one elbow and twisted to look down past his curled body.
His feet were near the open side of the cupboard door. Through it, he saw the ruined hall, empty, decayed, and lit by daylight. But that’s not where he had felt the air. The air had been on his head, in the dark end of the cupboard.
Henry twisted back and put out his hand. It disappeared in front of him. He twiddled his fingers around and felt the air. It was cooler than the air in the cupboard. He slid forward and Henrietta groaned. The cupboard was open, but not into Grandfather’s room. The opening was barely big enough for his head.
Henrietta kicked him in her sleep. He kicked back and pushed himself forward as hard as he could. His forehead and eyes emerged into light. His shoulders banged against something and would go no farther.
Henry blinked and tried to turn his head. The space was narrow, but he managed to move a little, enough to recognize his bed. His head was sticking through the wall into his bedroom, and he was looking down at Richard.
“Hey,” Henry said. “Richard. Wake up, you little moron.”
Richard didn’t move, so Henry pulled in a deep breath, preparing to shake the house down with his yelling. He blew it right back out. All the cupboard doors he could see were open. All of them. He couldn’t see the doors down by the floor, but he felt something in his stomach.
Endor was open.
He looked back at Richard. Something was wrong. Henry could see him breathing, but his skin was gray.
“Richard!” he said quietly. “Richard, wake up. Richard. Annabee is coming! Quick! Wake up!”
Richard moved one hand.
“Richard!” Henry was worried as well as claustrophobic. He gathered all the moisture in his mouth, tipped his head, and spat.
Most of it landed on the bed, but the spray caught Richard’s chin. Henry ran his tongue around the inside of his cheeks, gathered more saliva, and tried again. The spit landed on Richard’s forehead.
Henry waited, holding his breath. Richard shifted slightly and began snoring. Henry didn’t have much more moisture to work with. His tongue gathered and he let it pool in his jaw. When he had enough, he spat.
He was disappointed. It didn’t stay together. But it all hit Richard in the face.
“Richard!” Henry said. “Come on, please!”
Richard’s eyes opened and looked directly into Henry’s. “I feel ill,” he said.
“Well, get me out of here, and I’ll find you some medicine.”
“Why is my face wet?”
“I don’t know. Just stand up and help me out of here.”
“What are you doing?” Richard sighed and shut his eyes.
“No, Richard! Up! Up! I found Henrietta.”
Richard rolled over and sat up on the end of the bed. “What would you like me to do?”
“Set the combination back to this cupboard. Then we can come out downstairs.”
“I don’t know the combination.”
“You were with me when I set it! Wait a second. Do not lie back down! I’ll get it out of my backpack.”
Henry slid all the way back into the hall and glanced around. Then he pulled out Grandfather’s journal and scanned the list until he recognized the combination.
Henrietta woke up. “What are you doing?”
“Getting us out of here. Hold on. Hop out so I can get all the way in.”
Henrietta did, and she groaned while she stretched. Henry climbed back inside. “Up, Richard, up!” she heard him say. “Okay, here it is. No. Don’t do it yet. It might cut my head off.”
Henry slid out again, next to Henrietta, and smiled. “We’re going,” he said. Henrietta was staring at the ceiling. He glanced up. “I don’t ever want to see this place again.” Henrietta didn’t say anything.
Henry climbed in first. Henrietta followed on his heels.
The witch ran her hands across the door’s surface and around the frame. Zeke stepped toward the stairs. She sniffed at him but kept her hands on the wood.
“You have the faeren shut your doors! A strength so far beneath me I almost overlooked it.” She stepped back and stretched both hands in front of her.
One word rumbled slowly in her throat and the door flew open, knocking Anastasia over onto her father. Penelope’s mouth opened, but she could not scream.
Henry crawled into the room and froze, unable to take in the scene all at once. The witch stepped into the doorway and took a deep breath.
“The boy Henry,” she said, sniffing. She smiled. “Your blood will run stronger in my veins.”
Henrietta pushed Henry from behind and came out beside him.
“Mom?” She ignored the witch and crawled straight to her mother’s body. Then she saw her father. “Is he dead?” she cried. “Penelope, is he dead?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She stood up and ran straight at the witch, throwing herself at the woman. The witch lurched back and gasped as Henrietta’s shoulder drove into her stomach. Henry took two steps and lunged at the woman, hitting Henrietta in the shoulder blades and the witch in the ribs. The three of them teetered in the doorway.
Henry banged his head against her as hard as he could and swung drunkenly with his fists. He felt two inhuman hands close on his throat. A throbbing pulse surged into him, and in one blinding moment, his skull crackled and his body and mind went limp.
Penelope and Anastasia saw the witch step back and catch her heel in the carpet nest created by the chain saw. She fell, and Henry and Henrietta fell with her.
The bat was already off Zeke’s shoulder. His knees were bent. Hips rotated. Arms extended. The ash shaft swung as fast as it ever had in the fields. Before the three bodies bounced on the floor, Zeke’s bat whistled through Henry’s hair and smacked into the witch’s temple.
The house was still. Henrietta struggled to pull herself out from under Henry. She stood up shaking, tears still running down her cheeks.
“Henry?” Zeke said. He threw his bat down. The end was smoking. “Henry!”
The witch lay still, now visible for what she was—a shriveled body, eyeless and bald. Henry lay on top of her, head to head, cheek to cheek. Zeke grabbed Henry’s body, pulled him off, and laid him on his back in the bedroom. A splatter of the witch’s blood was steaming on his jaw.
“He’s breathing,” Zeke said.
Something crashed down the attic stairs and tumbled onto the landing. Zeke spun and grabbed for his bat.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
“Richard,” Anastasia said. “He fell down the stairs.”
Outside, the black cat, which had been scratching at the mudroom door, relaxed. Cats do not yearn for freedom. Most of them just have it—even when they are pampered, owned, and cared for. This cat did not know that it had been a slave. It did know that it needed a drink. And it could smell mice in the barn and peeper frogs in the tall grass beyond it. It did not know that it had been possessed. It did not know that the inside of its head had never been its own, that there was a woman who had seen the world through its eyes. The cat, which had no name, knew none of this. But something had changed. If it had known what, it would have run as far away as possible, run until collapse. Instead, it turned around slowly, stretched its paws as far as they would reach, straightened the kinks out of its back, and walked off into the grass to find a drink and a place to lie down.
“What are we going to do now?” Anastasia asked.
“We have to call the sheriff,” Penelope said.
“Not with her here,” said Henrietta. “We can’t explain her.”
“I don’t even know what’s going on,” Zeke said. “She tried to stab me. She’s really a witch, isn’t she?”
“Well, she’s dead now,” Penelope said.
“No, she’s not,” Zeke said. “She should be, but I just knocked her out. She’s still breathing.” All three of them looked at the body, face up on the floor. The chest, under the gray cloak, was rising and falling slowly.
“We should kill her,” Anastasia said.
“What? We can’t do that!” Penelope was shocked. “Anastasia, that’s awful. We can’t just kill someone who’s unconscious. What would you do, anyway?”
“Well, she’s got a knife, and she stabbed Dad, and she tried to stab Zeke. We should just stab her in the neck or something.”
“We can’t kill her,” Penelope said. “Zeke, tell Anastasia how awful that would be.”
Zeke looked around at the bodies on the floor. “Well, I don’t know what all is going on. But we do need an ambulance now.”
Frank and Dotty lay side by side. Zeke moved Henry beside Frank and carried a moaning, delirious Richard in and set him beside Dotty. He’d broken his wrist.
“The witch is going to wake back up,” Zeke said.
“I would like taffeta,” Richard muttered. “Yellow.”
Anastasia sniffed loudly. “You don’t have to watch, Penny. I can stab her.”
“No, and you wouldn’t even know how,” Penelope said. “Anastasia, go call now. Tell them that there have been some accidents, and a man has been stabbed.”
Anastasia stood up and walked toward the stairs. “I’d just stick it in her neck. She’s going to wake up, and when she does, there’s nothing we can do to her.”
Penelope ignored her. “We could lock her in the basement,” she suggested.
Henrietta had been sitting silently beside her mother. “Stick her through a cupboard,” she said quietly.
Penelope looked at her. “I don’t think we should do that,” she said. “We don’t know where we’d be sending her. Some poor people might just have a witch all of a sudden.”
“Well, I think it’s either that or let Anastasia stab her in the neck,” Henrietta said.
“Leaping,” Richard said. “I could be leaping.”
Zeke looked down at Richard and then at Penelope.
“I have no idea what’s going on. Why would she stay in a cupboard?”
“The cupboard goes to another place,” Henrietta said. “That’s how we came through.”
Zeke shrugged. “Whatever you say.” He turned to Penelope. “I’ll do what you want. I don’t have time to figure all this out.”
“Okay,” she finally said. “We’ll shove her through the cupboard.”
Henrietta stood up. “I’ll go turn the knobs.”
“Why?” Penelope asked. “You just came through from somewhere. Can’t she go there?”
Henrietta stopped, and then shook her head. “I don’t want her there. It’s sad enough already.” Then she hurried from the room.
Zeke grabbed the witch’s arm and pulled her toward the cupboard. Penelope tried to help. Anastasia was on the phone downstairs. Richard began humming.
When Henrietta reached the attic room, she looked around. It was very cold and strange with all the doors open. A tiny square of sunset poured through one, moonlight dribbled through another. Most were simply dark.
Different-flavored breezes played through Henrietta’s hair. The room felt like it was breathing, like she was standing in a lung, with air moving in and out of the different cupboards. A cloud of dust was floating down from a small door near the top of the wall, and Henrietta could hear voices, singing, laughter, clinking glasses, knives scraping on plates. She went over to the wall, got down on her knees, and looked through the black cupboard. She picked up its door, shoved it on, and pushed the bed leg back against it. Then, starting on one side, she slammed every door she could reach.
When she got to the middle, she stopped. The door with the compass locks was open, too. And there was something lumpy inside it, something charcoal gray. It was wheezing. She reached in and pulled out the small animal, and it sagged in her arms like a fat puppy. It had wings.
“Go ahead!” Zeke hollered from below. “Do whatever it is you’re doing!” Henrietta tucked the animal in one arm, like she was carrying a baby, and shut the door. Then, with a quick flick, she spun the knobs.
“I think that’s fine,” Zeke called. “Doesn’t look like there’s a back.” She turned and ran out of the room and down the stairs with her armload. She entered Grandfather’s room as Zeke was fishing the witch’s head into the cupboard. No one looked at her. Anastasia stood beside the body, gripping the witch’s knife.
“What are you doing, Anastasia?” Penelope asked.
Anastasia smiled. “I’m just watching, in case she wakes up.”
“You shouldn’t keep that knife,” Penelope said.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s probably wicked or something.”
Anastasia thought for a moment. “Maybe it was good first, and she stole it, and now it’s good again.”
“But you don’t know that,” Penelope said.
“You don’t know it isn’t,” said Anastasia.
“Could you push on her legs?” Zeke asked. Penelope bent down and grabbed the witch’s leg. Then she shivered.
“She’s freezing cold,” she said.
“I know,” Zeke answered. “I think she might die anyway. Unless she’s always this cold. You push, too, Anastasia.”
“But I’m making sure,” Anastasia said.
Penelope glared at her. “Just put the knife down and push.”
Anastasia did not want to, but she did. She set the knife on one of the bookshelves while she thought the others weren’t looking, then stooped to push the cold body.
They had her through to the hips, so Zeke let go of her waist, moved behind the girls, and grabbed her ankles.
“This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever done,” he said. “Weirdest I’ve ever seen.” He braced himself and drove the witch through like a wheelbarrow. Both girls fell over, and Zeke landed on his knees. Then he moved his grip to the bottoms of her feet, and, puffing hard, pushed them in as well. When he was done, he stood, picked the knife up off the shelf, and threw it in the cupboard.
“Hey!” Anastasia said.
In the distance, they heard sirens.
“She’s all in, Henrietta.” Zeke turned to face her. “Is there anything we can do to keep her from just coming back through? What are you holding?”
Henrietta left and ran back up to the cupboards. She stood for a moment, facing the locks, trying to remember where they had been set before. She did not want to lose that place. She reset the compass locks and hurried back down the stairs to Grandfather’s room.
Anastasia was frowning. Penelope was on the floor, running her hand through her father’s hair.
“Well, she’s gone,” Zeke said. “Who knows where.”
The sirens were getting louder.