Witch Catcher

by Mary Downing Hahn

  Binna winked at me. "Don't ye worry. Ye can bet he won't be prating so biggety big with me around. I'd settle his royal nonsense quicker than quick."

  "Maybe we could change him into a beetle or sommat even worse," Gugi said. "A roach, maybe. Or a maggot. That'd humble him for certain."

  Brynn looked at his aunties. I thought he might say something nasty, but he changed his mind. Keeping his mouth shut tight, he put some distance between himself and the three old ladies.

  "All right," Binna said with a clap of her hands. "It be time to start our journey home." She glanced at me. "This time I'd do the vehiculating, Jen. Not that ye done a bad job getting here, child. But, well, we don't want no snog-whistling coppers stopping us, now, do we?"

  Believe me, I was happy to crawl into the little back seat of Moura's car. I'd had enough of driving for one day—and many more. I set the bags carefully on the door between my feet. Green lights glimmered through the velvet, but the buzzing had dropped to a low, tuneless hum.

  Kieryn and Brynn squeezed in on either side of me, and the aunties wedged themselves into the front seat.

  Binna wasn't much more skillful at driving than I was, but at least she could see over the top of the steering wheel. When we backed up instead of going forward, Brynn insisted he should take over the vehiculating, but Binna stepped on the gas and shot forward so fast we were thrown back in our seats.

  "Dimbob booby," Brynn muttered. "How will she get us home? She be a melonhead if ever I see'd one."

  Kieryn leaned across me to cuff Brynn. "Shut yer big boshy mouth. Binna be a fairy of the third degree, and if ye don't watch out, she'd sped ye, just like she done them two mortal fools."

  "She wouldn't dare," Brynn said. "I be the future king."

  "Ye don't know what I might dare," Binna said, "if ye keep on with that king clappetytrap."

  Unfortunately, Binna turned to scowl at Brynn. The car ran off the road and bounced along the edge of a fence, knocking it to pieces and startling a bull. I looked back and saw him rampaging down the road behind us, obviously aggrieved. Before the bull caught up with us, Binna regained control, and once more we were zooming toward home and the tower, the traps unbroken in their velvet bags.

  After a few near misses involving a tractor, a hay wagon, and a dock of hysterical chickens, Binna parked the car in the woods behind the tower. The setting sun hovered above pink and crimson clouds, and dark shadows thickened under the trees.

  "Carry them traps to the tower," Binna told me. "But dinna let yer father see ye. The rest of us'd be crows—we'd meet ye at the top."

  In a moment, five crows dew up into the air and headed for the tower, black shapes against the rosy sky. Weighed down by the two bags, I clambered uphill after them, stumbling on roots and tangling my feet in vines and brambles. The bags grew heavier with every step. Inside, the trapped witch and warlock buzzed louder. Soon I could make out Moura's voice.

  "Ignorant human child, you'll be sorry. lust wait and see."

  "Be quiet," I told her. "Nothing you can say will change anything. You're trapped now, and so is Mr. Ashbourne."

  "You'll soon beg for my help," Moura hissed.

  "You're the one who should beg," I said. "I'm not trapped. You are."

  She laughed. "We'll see who's trapped, dear, we'd see who begs. Those who put their trust in fairies soon regret it."

  22

  ANGERED, I GAVE MOURA'S bag a hard shake. She cried out in pain, and I shook it harder. "You be quiet!"

  Her voice subsided into an angry hum. Struggling with the weight of the bags, I climbed to the top of the hill and paused at the edge of the woods. It was dark enough now for Dad to have turned on the kitchen light. I saw him come to the door and look out, then return to whatever he was doing—cooking dinner, probably. He must be wondering where Moura and I were. Whom did he miss more, I wondered, her or me?

  I hesitated, tempted to run home and ted Dad I was all right. A chorus of caws stopped me. On the tower's roof, five crows perched, obviously waiting for me.

  I crept from the trees into the bushes at the tower's base. Sure that Dad hadn't seen me, I opened the door and dragged the bags up the steps. At the top, I stopped to rest, breathless from the climb.

  Five crows flew into the tower through a broken window. Pigeons stopped cooing and huddled together on the rafters. Mice scurried to their hiding places under the dusty eaves. A book fell from a table with a thud, and a squirrel dashed for the safety of the ivy outside the windows.

  The crows shed their feathers and wings and resumed their own shapes.

  "Ye took long enough," Brynn said. "We been awaiting ye on the roof, watching for trouble."

  "The bags got heavier and heavier," I said,still breathing hard. "I could barely carry them. I was sure I'd drop them coming up the steps."

  "That's her doing," Binna said in a voice so fierce the bags buzzed. "Even in that pisky trap, her's got power."

  "Did for speak to ye?" Kieryn asked.

  "Yes." I studied Kieryn's funny little pointed face and her odd slanted eyes. "She said ... er ... she said not to—" I couldn't bring myself to say Moura had told me not to trust Kieryn and the others. "Oh, it was just more of her lies and tricks," I ended up saying.

  Kieryn looked at me closely and smiled a strange little smile. "I reckon for told ye not to trust us. That's the sort of thing her says about our kinkind."

  I nodded, embarrassed, but I noticed the aunties exchanging odd grins. Brynn covered his mouth with his hand, but I heard him giggle.

  "What did ye say to her?" Binna asked.

  "Did ye believe for?"Kieryn asked at the same moment.

  I was beginning to feel uneasy, almost afraid, but I looked Kieryn in the eye and said, "Of course I didn't believe her."

  Turning to Binna. I added, "I didn't say anything. I just gave the bag a good hard shake to shut her up."

  "Ah, that's just what her wanted ye to do," Binna said. "Her was hoping the glass'd shatter and her'd be free."

  "Dimbob," Brynn muttered to me.

  "Hush, boyo," Gugi said. "Yon human child don't know what we know, now, do she?"

  It must have been a trick of the light, but for a scary moment, I thought Gugi winked at Brynn.

  "Give me the pendant." Kieryn held out her hand. "Please."

  I unsnapped my pocket and pulled out the little pouch. Kieryn watched me untie the string and remove the pendant. "Here," I said, relieved to be rid of it.

  "Thank'ee for keeping it safe." Kieryn dropped the silver chain over her head, and the stone came to rest on her chest. The delicate star glimmered in the stone's deep blue depth.

  "Come now, we be wasting time," Binna said. "We must decide what's to be done with the traps—and them inside 'em."

  Binna put on the tinted spectacles and took the bags. Gugi donned the second pair, and the others turned their backs so as not to see Binna lift out the traps and set them on the table.

  I watched Binna grow tall again, beautiful, powerful-and frightening. In awe, I stepped backward and bumped into Brynn.

  Muttering "Dimbob human," he gave me a sharp pinch on the arm.

  Binna's long green gown rustled as she leaned over the traps. She began to wave her hands as if she were shaping the air into unseen forms, just as I'd once seen Moura do. At the same rime, she murmured in that secret language of hers. Gradually, the buzzing from the traps faded into silence. The green lights dickered and went out. Two glass globes lay on the table, their surfaces swirling with color, still beautiful but soundless, motionless.

  "Did you ... did you kid them?" I whispered.

  "Nay, I do not have the power to destroy them two." Binna dropped the globes into the bags and sat down. In a moment, she was herself again, all grandeur gone. Her face pale, her eyes shadowed, she looked exhausted. "I put them under the strongest spell I know. It should hold him and her for many years—hundreds, maybe even thousands."

  "As long as no billybop human idiot breaks the trap
s or pulls out the corks," Brynn added, giving me a sharp look.

  Binna handed the velvet bags to me. "These I put in yer care, human child. Hide them away in a place where no one will find them—deep in the earth." She rose and walked slowly to the top of the steps. "Come, Gugi, Skilda, Brynn, Kieryn. 'Tis time to say farewell and be on our way home."

  "But I thought Jen were coming with us'n—" Brynn began.

  Binna gave Brynn a little pinch. "Hush yer mouth, foolish fairy," she hissed. "Jen ain't going nowhere."

  Brynn rubbed his arm and scowled at Binna. "That hurt!"

  "It were meant to." Binna leaned toward him. "And don't forget—there's more where it come from, boyo."

  Edging away from his auntie's reach, Brynn said, "Me and Gugi and Skilda say aye to taking Jen with us'n."

  "After she hides them skitzy traps, of course," Skilda put in.

  I stared at Brynn, surprised by his unexpected friendliness. "You want me to come?"

  He nodded, and Gugi and Skilda smiled. "Oh, aye," they chorused, "Come with us, human child."

  "We wants to reward ye," Brynn added. "For all ye done."

  Binna's face was expressionless, but she regarded me with mournful eyes. "It be yer choice, Jen," she said softly.

  I turned to Kieryn. "What about you?" I asked. "Do you want me to come?"

  Kieryn stood apart, gazing out a window at the darkening sky. She twirled her pendant slowly. The stone caught the last light of the sun and cast a colored shadow on the door. Without looking at me, she shrugged her thin shoulders. "Like Binna says, it be yer choice."

  "Come with us. Ye'll be glad if ye do." Brynn grinned at me like a small fox. "Our world be far more beautiful than yers. Happier, too. Nothing to trouble ye there. Nothing to sadden ye. We dance and play and never sleep. Feasts every night. All ye can eat and drink. Sweet desserts such as ye never tasted in this world."

  Lovely as it ad sounded, I didn't quite trust Brynn's smile or the mischief in his eyes. Up till now, he'd made it clear he didn't like me. Why had he suddenly changed? Something was wrong; I sensed it, but I hated to miss the chance to see Kieryn's home.

  I looked again at Kieryn. She stood as before, gazing out the window, twirling the pendant. Tension tightened the air between us. Why was she so silent? Didn't she want me to go home with her? Had she turned against me?

  Gugi took my hand. "Come with us'n, Jen. We'd show ye the olden dances and teach ye the olden tongue. We'd crown ye with jewels and gold. Soon ye'll forget this world of sorrow."

  "But my father," I said. "What will he do without me?"

  "Yer father betrayed ye." Skilda seized my other hand. "He cared more for for than he did for ye. He don't deserve ye.

  Gugi held my hand even tighter. "Come, go with us, human child. We'll love than any mortal could ever hope to."

  Skilda was right. Dad had treated me badly. But Moura's magic and spells had blinded him, changed him. Now that she was gone, he'd become his old self. He'd love me the way he used to. How could I leave him? And Tink?

  "Can I come for a visit?" I asked Gugi. "Just to see if I like it? And go home any time I want?"

  "Why, that be a fossicking good idea," Gugi said. "Ye come now, and leave when ye tire of feasts and sweets and dancing."

  She and Skilda swung my hands in theirs, smiling at me and each other. "Human child, human child," they sang, "come with us to fairyland."

  Once more I turned to Kieryn. At last she met my eyes, "Are ye sure ye want to go, Jen? Think careful afore ye answer."

  I stared at her, puzzled by the note of warning in her voice. "As long as it's just for a visit."

  Kieryn whispered, "Do ye not recall what her told ye?"

  I stared at her. "But Moura lied. You said so yourself. She's a witch."

  "And we be fairies. Ye can't be trusting either one."

  Brynn ran to Kieryn. "Hush! Hush! Ye'll ruin everything, dimbob!"

  Kieryn pushed him away. "Ye beastly boyo, do ye not care that Jen saved us? Were it not for herself, ye and I and the aunties would all be swinging in them pisky traps forever and a day whilst her and him found then way home and seized the fairy throne."

  "But we need a human child," Brynn said. "We've always took them. Never has a fairy said we should na steal 'em."

  "Hush." Gugi gave Brynn a good hard swat on his bottom, and Skilda took my hand again. "Pay no mind to the boyo. No harm will come to ye in our world."

  "No, indeed," Gugi said, once more taking my other hand. "And dye miss your father, ad ye need do is say ye want to go home, and off ye'll go, back to this troubled world of yers."

  Kieryn pulled me away. "Stop yer ears, Jen. Ye mustn't listen to the aunties' stories. Fairyland's not what ye think."

  "But I can go home if I don't like it. Gugi said so."

  "Oh, sure ye can, Jen." Kieryn's voice brimmed with sarcasm. "Sure ye can." She scowled at Gugi who seemed to have lost interest in everything but the wart on the end of her nose.

  Turning her green eyes back to me, Kieryn said, "Fairy time be different from yer time. What seems a day to us can be long years in yer world. When a mortal goes back home, he seeks things that be gone—his home a ruin, his friends and loved ones long dead, himself so old he soon dies and turns to dust."

  "Now ye've gone and ruined everything, ye big dimbob!" Brynn wailed. "Mam won't have no slavey to work in the kitchen. I'll be fetching and carrying as no prince should, and yell be forever sewing and mending. And the aunties will be washing and scrubbing till their hands turn red and rough."

  Still weary horn her spells, Binna spoke at last. "So ye see how it be, Jen. If ye go with us'n, ye can't never really go home. Or see yer father again. And ye won't be singing and dancing and feasting. Oh, no, ye'd be toiling day and night."

  She glanced at her sisters, her eyes dashing. "Fie and fie again on yer tricksy ways. Ye should be ashamed of yer dafty lies."

  Skilda and Gugi stepped away from me, their faces red. "Ah, didn't her tell ye not to be trusting the likes of us?" Gugi asked me. "And didn't I meself warn ye?"

  "Ye see, it be our nature to deceive," Skilda said with a smile and a shrug. "Truly, we canna help it—even if it be unfair to one as kind as ye."

  "So Moura actually told me the truth about you?" I stared at the five of them.

  "Her was only seeking to help her self by turning ye against us," Binna said. "So it weren't no virtue on her part."

  "We must go." Gugi pointed at a window. "Time hangs waiting between day and night."

  As the others turned toward the stairs, Kieryn hugged me. "My kinkind ain't good at thanks or farewells, but we don't forget them that's helped us."

  With that, she ran downstairs behind the others. I followed them out of the tower and into the dusk-filled woods. Binna stopped at an oak that rose above the other trees. Its ancient branches thrust toward the stars.

  Rising up tad and regal in her green gown, Binna spoke a spell in her language. Beside her, Kieryn lifted the pendant above her head. The star inside shone with a brilliant light, and a door in the tree's mossy trunk opened. Darkness as thick as a black cat's fur lay within.

  Binna turned to me. "Ye may look, child, but do not follow us. There be no turning back when the door closes."

  With Brynn in the lead. Gugi and Skilda ran through the door. They didn't even say good-bye.

  Kieryn hugged me again. "Farewell, dear friend," she whispered. "I'll remember ye always and always, forever and ever." Giving me a quick kiss, she plunged through the door, crying, "Mam! Mam! I'm home!"

  Without thinking, I started to run after her. Binna stopped me on the threshold. "One look," she said.

  I peered through the door at the twilight world beyond the darkness. I saw a castle with tad towers, cozy cottages, gardens, green lawns, graceful trees hung with lanterns. Somewhere a flute played. The air was fragrant with dowers. A crowd of fairies ran to welcome Brynn, Kieryn, and the aunties. One stepped forward and opened her arms. She wore a gown spun
of fabric as light as moonshine and glittering with jewels. In her dark hair, a wreath of gold glowed.

  "Mam!" Kieryn cried. With Brynn close behind, she dung herself into the arms of her mother.

  "The queen," I whispered, "the queen."

  As if she'd heard, the queen smiled at me over the heads of her children. She held out her hand, beckoning me to join her. She was beautiful, kind, and good. She loved me, and I loved her. My heart ached to be with her, to be her child, her darling.

  Just as I stepped forward, Binna shook her head. "No, jen. Ye must stay with yer father and live yer life willy-nilly in yer world."

  Then she stepped across the threshold and raised her hand. The door slammed shut, and I was alone in the dark woods.

  "No! No!" I dropped the velvet bags, threw myself at the tree and beat on it with my fists. I pried at the bark till my fingers bled. But the door refused to open.

  Exhausted, I sank down on the ground and cried. The fairies were gone. I'd never see them again. I was stuck in my human body forever—no dying or creeping or crawling, no magic. Just one dull, ordinary day after another.

  23

  I PICKED UP THE two velvet bags and walked slowly to the edge of the woods. A cool breeze touched my cheek, bringing with it the smells of fresh-cut grass and honeysuckle. Overhead, the Big Dipper tipped across the sky. A car passed on the road below, its engine humming. An owl hooted.

  The lawn, dull in the ordinary moonlight of my world, stretched uphill to the house. From every window, lights shone like beacons to show me the way home. It was late. I'd been gone all day. Dad must be worried about me—and Moura, too.

  Tink came bounding across the lawn. He circled me, rubbing against my legs and purring. Suddenly, he paused and sniffed the velvet bags. Tail puffed, he crouched and hissed.

  I knelt beside him and stroked his back. "It's all right," I whispered. "They can't harm anyone now."

  Tink slunk out from under my hand. Taking a few steps toward the house, he looked back at me, clearly urging me to follow him home.

  "Okay," I said, "okay." Dangling a bag from each hand, I crossed the lawn and climbed the back steps behind the cat.