The House on Hoarder Hill

by Mikki Lish

  The glow shifted as Spencer, Jelly, and Mrs. Pal poked their faces through the portal to watch her. Spencer made a gagging face at the smell of skunk spray, which seemed even stronger than before, as though it were stewing.

  Hedy faced the distant tree, a dark silhouette in the dim light of the painted world. In her mind, she tried to lose the heavy feeling of the wings, pictured her body not falling, but instead rising up as the wings beat upon her back, imagined that the forceful swoop of the magpie’s wings was her own, that speed and agility were hers to control and—

  The wings snapped to their full span, and her feet lifted from the ground. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. Those brass-and-silver feathers beat to and fro, propelling her skyward, higher and higher, until she remembered she had to steer.

  Spencer whooped. “You’re doing it!”

  “Max is going to be so jealous!” Jelly cried.

  Flying jerkily, and wrenching forward as though she were running for her life, Hedy willed the wings to keep going. Not knowing what to do, she pumped her legs, swinging herself off balance. After a few stomach-churning moments, she found that she could steer the wings better by keeping her limbs still and tipping her weight to and fro in smoother, smaller movements. She lurched toward the vast tree.

  As she flew through the air, the skunk Therie showed her face at the entrance to her burrow. The creature reeled back in shock at the sight of Hedy, then hissed at her. Hedy glared in the skunk’s direction but otherwise ignored it; there was no time to lose.

  No one would describe her flight as graceful, but Hedy did find that it grew easier with each wing stroke. She tried to orient herself, casting another look back in the direction of the portal. The small glow could just be seen.

  The tree was immense, growing out of the place where four rivers met. Hedy had no idea what type of tree it was, but its trunk rose an eye-watering height from the surface of the water. No ladder had a hope of reaching its lowermost branches, even if there was ground beneath it.

  There was no sign of Grandpa John or the Therie as she approached. She couldn’t hover with the wings, so she coursed back and forth a few times, eventually deciding she’d have to look on the other side of the tree. But her heart beat faster: On the far side of the tree, the others wouldn’t be able to see her. What would happen to her when she flew out of sight?

  “Get it over with,” she muttered to herself. She tipped herself to one side to soar around the tree.

  Leaves, branches, and more leaves, mostly dark green, while the new growth was a pale golden color. No magpie in sight, and no other creatures up here either. No birds or squirrels, nor even—if this place was not in England—anything more exotic like chipmunks, possums, or monkeys. That was what seemed to be at the heart of its strangeness, she decided; it seemed part wild, but it was too empty of wildlife to feel natural.

  When she spotted the faraway tiny glow of Spencer and Jelly at the painting portal again, she knew she had made a full circuit of the enormous tree without finding Grandpa John. She began spiraling around and upward, scrutinizing the shadowy foliage. By the time her third circuit of the tree was done, Hedy had reached a dizzying height. She chose not to think about how far away the ground was.

  What was that? Her ears caught a faint sound. A voice. From where, though?

  Up. She had not flown above the tree to check the top of it. Back and forth she flew, up past layers of branches. When the peak of the tree was close, she gathered speed and shot up, to look at the top of the tree from above.

  Built into the crown of the tree was a grand nest, the magpie’s nest. It was perhaps fifteen feet wide, made of branches as thick as Hedy’s arms. Twigs, reeds, and grasses were woven between the branches, as well as the odd colored ribbon, probably stolen over time through the magpie’s own portal. Even antlers were interlaced with the branches, their tips jutting out of the nest like thorns. Trinkets, baubles, and other random items were heaped within the nest. This was the magpie’s hoard.

  Among it all was Grandpa John. His cheek looked swollen, as though he’d taken a blow, but he was staring defiantly at the magpie Therie that stood over him.

  Nobody, Hedy reminded herself, Nobody has taken over that thing, for there was an unmistakable disdain in its stance and the way it cocked its head and blinked at Grandpa John. The Therie’s wings had disappeared, changed back into its black-and-cream military coat. But worst of all, in its fingers it held the Kaleidos cube.

  “I can’t give you back those years,” Grandpa John was saying, “but you’re free now. Rose is still trapped. Give me the cube, Albert. We can battle it out later, just let me find Rosie first.”

  The Therie’s silence was more chilling than Nobody’s usual insults. It took a step away from Grandpa John, and another, and another. At first Hedy thought the Therie was letting Grandpa John go, but then it held the cube out past the edge of the nest.

  “No, Albert!” Grandpa John cried, struggling to his feet.

  The Therie gave a half shrug and opened its fingers to let the cube fall, all the way down to the currents of dull water below.

  Hedy bit back a shout and dived. Behind and above, she heard the Therie’s strangled, shocked squawk. Willing herself downward, she closed in on the cube and, with an outstretched hand, grabbed it. The cube was hers.

  Pulling out of the dive, Hedy beat her wings to streak upward to the nest, shoving the cube down into her pocket.

  Grandpa John’s frightened face peered over the edge of the great intertwined branches. “Hedy, go back now!”

  “No!” she yelled back. “Not without y—”

  Hedy’s head snapped forward with a sudden crack. She saw stars for a second; then it happened again, making her cartwheel through the air. She screamed. Nobody was pecking her helmet with the Therie’s beak.

  She sped upward, above the nest now, trying to get away. Crack. Another flash of stars behind her eyes. Hedy tumbled into the nest with a thud, sending trinkets flying. Grandpa John began picking his way to her side, but Nobody landed in between them, barring his way. With a great shake, his wings transformed back to human arms.

  “Go, Hedy!” Grandpa John called.

  Nobody’s pale hand shot out to yank Grandpa John by the scruff of his sweater toward the edge of the nest. His intent was clear: to send Grandpa John plunging to the dark water far, far below.

  “Wait,” Hedy croaked. She reached into her pocket to draw out her only gambit. “Trade.”

  Nobody’s feathered head snapped around, and he peered at the pocket watch Hedy held with a hungry gleam in his magpie eyes.

  “It’s a picture of your wife and child inside, isn’t it?” she asked. “I’ll give it back to you, if you give me back my grandfather.”

  Everyone was still. Everything was silent. Then Nobody nodded once and pulled Grandpa John back in from the edge.

  “On three,” Hedy said, feeling her pulse throbbing in her temples. “One.”

  The magpie Therie inched closer, looming tall.

  “Two.” Hedy watched his grip on Grandpa John loosen and extended a trembling hand.

  “Three!”

  As Nobody let go of Grandpa John, Hedy whipped back her arm and threw the pocket watch as far as she could. It sailed over Nobody, out over the far edge of the nest. Nobody let loose an outraged screech and then launched after the pocket watch, which was now plummeting toward the water.

  Hedy hugged Grandpa John tightly for the briefest moment, before yanking her striped scarf from her neck. She looped it around her waist and through his belt.

  “I hope it holds,” Grandpa John said, knotting it tightly.

  Hedy closed her eyes and pictured herself in flight, the silver-and-brass wings beating on her back. She could feel them wanting to go aloft now.

  “It will, if you believe,” she said. “Ready?”

  They gripped each other’s forearms tightly, bent their knees, and sprang into the air. The scarf pulled sharply at Hedy’s waist, but the knot held.
Now weighed down by a fully grown man, Hedy could feel the wings working harder. She turned in the air until she could see the glow of Spencer and Jelly, like a tiny lighthouse beckoning her to safety. It was time to get back to Hoarder Hill.

  They had covered half the distance when there was a whoosh of air from above. Nobody. All around them was feather and scratching claws and that beak, trying to break their flight. They plunged downward in a tangle, screams and magpie shrieks filling the air. Hedy wrenched away, trying to regain control of her wings as they fell toward the river below with frightening speed. Whoosh, whoosh. She leveled out only just in time to avoid smashing into the riverbed. Grandpa John’s feet dragged through the water, sending up a spray. Nobody swept beyond them, but she saw him begin his switchback to assail them again.

  Hedy’s heart hammered as she tried to pick up speed. “Which way?” she asked Grandpa John, climbing upward. “Can you see a glow?”

  A hundred and fifty or so feet up from the surface of the water, Grandpa John pointed. “That way.”

  A gust of air alerted her to Nobody diving again. Hedy barely dodged, and a terrifying thought struck her: What if either of them was wounded by the magpie’s claws or beak and Nobody tried to change bodies? She let out a small whimper.

  “You can do this,” Grandpa John told her firmly.

  As Hedy tore toward the portal, small creatures began flapping from it. What on earth were they? Should she change direction?

  Wham! Nobody’s Therie beak pecked her leg with a painful jab, making her cry out and veer off course. With a clumsy swing, she dropped a few yards to avoid another stab by the magpie’s beak. Go left, she told herself, now right, be unpredictable, make him miss.

  The small creatures flying in her direction were more visible now. Cold fear rolled over her. It was the grotesques from Grandpa John’s roof. Seven stone creatures jabbering and flapping in a chaotic cloud, and she began to pick out words here and there. Just like that day on the roof, there were growls of “Finder!” and “Protect her!” How had they got in here? She spotted the imp, some gargoyles, a winged ram, every one of them ugly and frightening. Nobody was behind, the grotesques were ahead—there was no way she could outfly them all.

  In front, the cloud of grotesques drew into formation, some above and some below. She raised her arms in front of her face, bracing for a collision, but the formation suddenly circled out. As they passed by, a raven—her raven—shimmering between stone and white feather, screeched, Caw!

  “Protect her!” snarled the grotesques in answer.

  They swarmed Nobody. Claw, fang, horn, and beak flew at the Therie in a vicious throng, forcing Nobody to beat them away. It gave Hedy the time she needed to begin her race toward the glow behind the portal, visible again and brighter than ever, beckoning her to safety.

  Hedy risked a look behind. The Therie snapped its beak to and fro, flapping its great wings at its smaller assailants. It grasped one gargoyle in its claw and hurled it to the ground, where the gargoyle smashed. That gave the grotesques pause, a moment that Nobody snatched to charge in pursuit of Hedy again.

  “We can’t fly through the portal. We won’t fit,” Hedy called to Grandpa John. “We’ll need to slow down and land.”

  Grandpa John nodded. “Just make sure you go through first.”

  Ten yards away from the portal, Hedy dared to slow the beat of her wings. At five yards, she back-winged and set them on the ground. Nobody was closing in.

  “Get clear of me, Hedy!” Grandpa John urged, tugging at the knot of the scarf. Hedy struggled to detach herself. She looked longingly at the portal. It was so close!

  Nobody screeched, steeling himself to swoop.

  But now there was a sudden commotion at the portal. The family fire swirled. In crawled a large brown furry creature, and behind it was a great branching head. Spencer, blanketed with Doug, and Jelly, holding Stan, got to their feet.

  “Hedy, get in!” Spencer yelled, controlled fright all over his face.

  As Nobody flew in, Doug roared over Spencer’s head. The bear’s white paw slashed at the air, and Stan, held high over Jelly’s head, shook his antlers threateningly and snorted.

  Nobody jerked back, stunned. He flapped in alarm when Doug roared again, Spencer and Jelly screaming in concert with the bear this time. The growling of the grotesques came for Nobody again from the rear. With a final infuriated shriek, Nobody flailed upward, away from the portal, away from Hedy and Grandpa John, and back to the magpie’s nest.

  The grotesques didn’t give chase this time. They settled on the ground like tame, rumbling pets. Facing away from the portal, they surveyed the ground, water, and air for danger, with a satisfied aggression that suggested this was exactly what they enjoyed doing.

  Grandpa John pulled Hedy into a hug. She allowed herself to sink against him as the wings on her back collapsed down into themselves. “You smell like skunk,” she said, wrinkling her nose, still breathless.

  “I know. Do you like it?” Grandpa John said with a dry smile.

  Hedy turned and pulled in Spencer, draped with Doug. “We’ll all have to like it. Come on, Jelly.”

  Jelly did her best not to poke them with Stan’s antlers as she wrapped her arms around them.

  “Now this,” Doug said, “is what I call a bear hug.”

  They all laughed woozily until Stan cleared his throat. “May I suggest we continue in the house, where the danger is not?”

  “I hope you still have the cube after all of that,” murmured Grandpa John to Hedy, a last vestige of anxiety creasing his face.

  “I’ve got it,” Hedy said. She pulled the cube from her pocket and dropped it into Grandpa John’s palm.

  Look who’s defrosted.” Soumitra smiled as everyone hurried into the attic room.

  Jelly dashed to Uncle Peter’s side, feeling his forehead with her hand. He was sitting up now, and his skin was no longer ashen. His eyes immediately fell upon the cube in Grandpa John’s hand. “You got it!”

  Grandpa John could only pat Hedy’s shoulder gratefully and nod, too exhausted to explain all that had happened.

  Uncle Peter’s face crumpled with relief. “I’m sorry, John,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I wanted to humiliate you. I’m sorry for Rose. For everything.”

  Kneeling by his brother, Grandpa John said, “I was hardly the ideal brother. There were times we should have helped each other and I turned it into a contest.” He sighed. “Why don’t we both do things differently from now on?”

  “Can two old men change decades of stupidity?”

  Grandpa John chuckled. “Maybe I’ve got something hidden away in this house that’ll transform us.” He held the cube out to Uncle Peter and said, “I need both hands for the Kaleidos. Will you look after this for me for a moment?”

  Uncle Peter carefully took the cube and held it against his chest.

  Grandpa John stood and placed both hands on his Kaleidos, blinking hard. “It’s been so long,” he whispered.

  “You know how to do this, John,” Uncle Peter said.

  No one dared to say a thing as Grandpa John began to move the cubes. He shifted them over and under one another, folding rows of them this way and that, out of rectangle shape into a rough pyramid, into a sphere, into a shapeless heap, and finally back into the shape of a long box, into which a magician’s assistant could fit. Along the short bottom edge of the box of cubes was a hollow space, like a missing tooth, where the lost cube belonged.

  Grandpa John was puffed from the effort. He and Uncle Peter both stared at the empty gap, and then Grandpa John said huskily, “Time to put it back.”

  Uncle Peter knelt by the box and, trembling, held out the cube and slipped it into place. It fit perfectly, held there as though magnetized. The Kaleidos was restored.

  With two hands, Grandpa John took hold of the front side of the box and wrenched it open. It was filled with darkness inside.

  Grandpa John helplessly stared at the space where they had all hoped h
is wife would be.

  There was a sudden rush of sucking air, and doors banged downstairs, throughout the house. The flames of the torches guttered.

  “Is that Nobody?” Spencer asked uneasily.

  But there was no threatening crackle of blue light, nor any nasty chuckle. Instead, they could hear a soft rustle, and footsteps, and voices calling out. Moments later, a stream of fluttering petals—rose petals—swept up through the doorway. They swirled around everyone, settling on top of the glimmering box. And following in the wake of the petals, as though they had been led up through the house, were Hedy and Spencer’s bewildered parents. They stood in the doorway for a moment before both children flung themselves into their arms.

  “What on earth—?” Mom began. Then she broke off, staring at the Kaleidos.

  The blackness inside the box was fading, like night retreating at sunrise. When it cleared, they could see a woman, lying down on her side. She opened her eyes.

  “Rosie!” Grandpa John knelt in front of the box and held out his hands to grasp hers.

  Rose Sang, missing for decades, hesitantly inched out of the box. Hedy felt an odd chime of recognition. It was like a picture coming to life—this was the young woman whom she and Spencer had seen in photos, and there were so many of her own features that Hedy could see in her grandmother. She looked the same age as the day she had vanished, and was dressed in the magician’s-assistant costume she had been wearing. As she crumpled to her knees on the floor of her secret room, she stared at the old man in front of her, who had tears running down his face.

  “John?” Rose said, lifting a weak hand to stroke the tears.

  “It’s me,” he said, putting his hand over hers.

  Rose broke into a sob and fell against Grandpa John’s chest. Mom, who had been watching in silent shock, slowly walked forward and sank to the ground to dazedly look at her mother, whom she only knew as a memory. “How?” she asked.