Burnt Sugar

by Lish McBride

  They also don’t stay in the same place for very long if the witch is smart. A trap is more effective if no one knows it’s there. Deep, dark forbidding forests are perfect locations, because if people go missing, well, people go missing in forests all the time. I asked another witch once how they moved gingerbread houses and she’d just shuddered and walked away. Not the best sign.

  “She’s lived here for some time,” Lock said. “The plants, the trees—the whole system has been discombobulated for a while. This kind of thing isn’t good for them.”

  “So we have an old gingerbread house that’s probably developed some deep defenses and a possibly crazy man-eating witch on the inside,” Ezra said. “Great. Wonderful. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Look on the bright side,” I told him, patting his arm. “There might be more than one witch.”

  Lock put his arm around my shoulders. “We get the best jobs.”

  We stood there and sweated for a minute longer, just staring at the creepy gingerbread house. Then we sat down to plan.

  In the end, we decided I should approach the house alone. I looked the least threatening and I was the youngest—people don’t put up their guard for young teenage girls the same way they would for the boys. It didn’t matter that, out of the three of us, I was the most dangerous. The important thing was that I didn’t look it.

  Lock would stay in the woods for the moment and see what he could find out from the trees. Ezra had stripped down and gone fox to explore closer to the house. We were hoping that whatever defensive spells the house had wouldn’t be triggered by an animal. It was risky, but we didn’t have any other way to get information and we couldn’t wait.

  As I made my way through the clearing and over the cobblestones, I took off my jacket and tied it around my waist, rolling the sleeves up to hide the embroidery. Even if the witch inside couldn’t read runes—which was unlikely—I wasn’t about to give them a hint that I was anything besides human. Close up, the cabin seemed even more like one out of a fairy tale. The candy-glazed windows shone and after a quick sniff I realized the flowers were made out of pressed sugar. Even the water from the well carried a sweet smell. I was getting a sugar high just from breathing.

  There was very little sound as I reached the door. If I hadn’t felt the shiver up my spine telling me that something was terribly wrong, it would have been easy to believe that it was just an idyllic summer day in the woods.

  I knocked on the door.

  I think everyone has a certain idea of what kind of person lives in a gingerbread house. A gnarled old witch is the usual stereotype. Long crooked nose with warts, knotted hands, snaggleteeth, and gray hair—the typical crone we’ve grown to vilify. It’s odd that, as a teenage girl, I’m perceived as innocuous and safe, while so many of our childhood villains are modeled after the crone. There’s probably a lesson there.

  The man who greeted me wasn’t witchy in the least. It was a bit of a letdown, to be honest. He was abnormally tan, his teeth artificially white, and he was wearing one of those spandex bicycle getups you see on fitness nuts. Over that, he had on an apron that read Kiss the Cook.

  I blinked at him, trying to process. He smiled a too-white smile and held up a blender pitcher half-full of green goo and a glass with the same. “Smoothie?”

  I mumbled that I was lost and asked to use his phone, which was the cover story we’d decided to go with. He didn’t seem to think it was weird that I was wandering alone in the woods, but invited me in, shoving a glass full of smoothie into my hand.

  “Absolutely. There’s no reception out here, so this happens occasionally. Still, me and the missus, we love the quiet.” He pulled me along gently by my arm, guiding me into one of the kitchen chairs. “Gives us time to get in touch with nature. Really align our chakras and all that good stuff. Are you into yoga? I’m telling you, it’s the best thing I’ve ever done.” He nodded to the smoothie. “Lately I’ve been experimenting with juicing. Lots of nutrients, all things grown locally and without pesticides. You look parched. Take a sip. It’s a new recipe and I’d love an opinion.” He bustled around as he talked, cleaning up the rinds and peels left over from his juicing experiment and piling them into a compost bucket.

  “Lots of greens in this one—super good for your system.” He wiped the counter down with a wet cloth. I felt like he was going about two speeds faster than me. “So you just rest and I’ll find the phone, okay?” He smiled again.

  I have to admit, I was a little weirded out. The inside of the place looked like a regular cabin, and this guy wasn’t at all what I was expecting. Who lives in a gingerbread house and then gets into juicing? And yoga?

  Without thinking, I took a sip of smoothie as I looked around. It really had been quite hot outside, and I was thirsty. The juice hit my tongue. I could taste sweeter things like carrots and some sort of berry balancing out the bitterness of the greens. Was that parsley? There was a flavor I couldn’t quite place. I stared into my glass and tried to figure out what it was. That’s when it hit me. I had infiltrated a gingerbread house probably filled with flesh-eating witches and possibly other dangerous people and then I had drunk a mystery liquid that was handed to me by a stranger. I really hoped that the house had some sort of spell attached to it that made you lower your guard. That was much better than being incredibly naive about something, like the possibility that I had just voluntarily drunk poison. I was so busy staring into my cup wondering if I was going to die that I didn’t hear the person who snuck up behind me and hit me over the head.

  I woke up feeling nauseated, dizzy, and really, really stupid. I’d let myself get coshed over the head like an amateur. I laid there blinking and staring at the ceiling and trying to not vomit.

  “She awake yet?” Ezra asked.

  “I think I saw her move. Hey, wake up, cupcake.”

  After my eyes adjusted I took a good look around. We were in a sort of root cellar. A long low ceiling held rows of wooden birdcages just like the one I was in. It looked like roots had grown out of the ceiling and braided themselves into cages. I counted thirty. About half of them were full, though no one was talking besides my friends, and a few of the cage occupants were so still that I was really hoping that they were sleeping. By the looks of things, we were the oldest.

  I turned my head slowly and caught sight of Ezra and Lock, both in their own cages suspended from the ceiling. Lock had dried blood on his temple and his T-shirt had smears of dirt on it. If Ezra had suffered any damage, he’d healed it already. Unfortunately, he’d clearly been a fox when he was caught, because he was sitting buck naked in his cage.

  “What happened to you guys?” I croaked.

  “I wasn’t expecting the attack vines,” Ezra said with a shrug. He didn’t glare at Lock or anything, but I could tell Lock took offense to his statement anyway.

  “They’re not native to Maine! How was I supposed to know? I told you guys the plant life was weird around here.”

  “Hold on there, hoss. No use getting worked up,” I said. “What happened to you, anyway?”

  “I got jumped in the woods. The trees tried to warn me, but they were a little slow.”

  I examined the back of my head gently with my fingers before slowly sitting up. So far, so good. “Ok—bare minimum, we’re looking at two people,” I said, continuing my scan of the room.

  The walls of the cellar held shelves full of jars of pickled veggies, sauces and jams, and what looked like pickled pigs’ feet. At least, I hoped it was pig. The floor was hard-packed dirt, but several patches looked like they had been disturbed recently, like someone was tilling for a garden. As I stared, a voice to my left said, “That’s where they bury the bones.” A dirt-smudged little face appeared in the cage next to mine. Thin, delicate fingers wrapped around the wooden bars.

  “How many?” I asked.

  The kid gave me a half-shrug. “Dunno.”

  “From the smell of decay, I’d say more than you’d like to count,” Ezra whispered
. I think he was trying to be discreet, but we all heard it. Someone I couldn’t see sobbed off in a corner cage.

  “Are we still in the gingerbread house?” The root cellar was cavernous, looking far too large for the cabin we’d entered.

  “I think it’s bigger on the inside,” Lock said. “The wood they used on these cages is still alive, and very sick. It doesn’t seem like it would be difficult for us to get out, though.”

  “That’s what worries me,” I said. “Ezra, were you a fox when they put you in here?”

  “When the vines grabbed me, yes.” He grimaced. “I panicked and changed back when I ended up in the cage. There’s a chance they still think I’m a fox. No one’s been down here since.”

  Lock ran his hands over his cage, a sickened look on his face. “I don’t think they would have caged you if they thought you were just a fox.”

  “Let’s assume they know,” I said. “So they’re aware of his were status, yet they put him in a cage he could easily slip out of.”

  “You think there’s a secondary system,” Ezra said, warily eying his own enclosure.

  “Hey kid,” I said, turning back to the cage next to mine. “What’s your name?”

  “Julian.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes with dirty fingers.

  “Nice to meet you, Julian. I’m Ava. That’s Lock and Ezra. We’re looking to get everyone out of here. You seem like you might have some information to help us.”

  By the tilt of his head, I could tell he wasn’t too sure of our chances. “Like what?”

  “Has anyone escaped before?” Lock wiped the sweat off his face with the hem of his shirt. He wasn’t the only one sweating. It was like a sauna in here. That’s when I realized they’d taken both of our jackets. Damn. I had no supplies. Which meant no electrolyte pills or anything. Which meant I had to limit my use of fire if possible, because I had no way to replenish my system. Grand.

  Julian shook his head.

  “What about out of their cage?” I asked. “Have you seen anyone get out of one of these cages?” I was having a hard time imagining that every single person here was simply willing to sit and wait for death. But as I watched, no one was attempting to get through the bars or anything. I mean, we were in wooden birdcages, not Fort Knox. Why wasn’t anyone trying?

  Julian paled, but nodded.

  “And escaping, that was a bad thing?” Ezra asked. When Julian nodded again, Ezra’s brow furrowed. “What happened?” Julian just pointed at the floor. Oh good, there was something wrong with the floor besides the fact that it was a bone yard. I took off one of my boots and pushed it through the bars until it toppled down to the dirt. As soon as it hit, roots snaked up and grabbed it, pulling it into the soil.

  “Well, that was stupid,” Lock said, watching my boot disappear. “Why not use something you don’t need?”

  “Watch it or you’re going to get the other boot.” It hadn’t been the brightest thing to do, but it wasn’t stupid, either. “I needed to test the floor. What else should I have used? I’m not exactly overflowing with extra stuff over here. I just have my clothes, and unlike Ezra, I have some qualms about trying to escape naked.”

  Ezra shrugged. “You get used to it.”

  “I’m going to do my best to never have that experience,” I said, eyeing the floor and wishing I had my boot back. “Too bad none of us can fly.” The door opened at the end of the cellar and everyone went quiet. Mr. Healthy came down the steps whistling a tune. He stopped at the bottom right before he touched the floor and sang a song in a language I couldn’t identify, something Germanic, I think, dancing slowly in a circle. He ended the dance with a flourish and then calmly stepped onto the packed dirt. Seemed simple enough, but I was betting the words to that song were important, and I hadn’t caught a single one.

  He examined the jars on the walls, pulling a few from the bottom. “A wasabi glaze this time, perhaps.” After selecting his sauce, he studied the cages, finally ending on Julian. “Yes, I think it’s your turn today.” Julian cowered on the far side of his cage.

  “Don’t you want to wait?” I asked. “You know, fatten him up a bit? He’s all bones.” Julian gave me a startled look, but I ignored him.

  “It’s not healthy, eating all that fat,” the man said. “No, the smart consumer goes for the lean meat.” He snapped his fingers and the roots spun Julian’s cage around and pulled it straight up. The ceiling planks bent open to let the cage through, then snapped back into place as if nothing had happened. The man left, a bounce to his step, totally ignoring all of us as we yelled at him.

  Julian had been the only kid willing to talk to us, the only one not completely broken by the experience, and now he was lunch. We had to get out of there.

  “Ava,” Lock whispered. “I’ve got an idea, but I need you to be ready to open up our cages, okay?” I nodded, even though I had some doubts after watching the cages in action.

  Lock kneeled as best he could and dug into his pockets, pulling out a small pouch. A pouch I recognized.

  “Did you, at some point in today’s adventure, stop to gather seeds?” I asked.

  He blushed, but wouldn’t look at me. “And now aren’t you glad?”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  Lock opened the packet and tipped a few out, talking softly as he did. We all watched the seed float down, or tried to. I mean, seeds are small and kind of hard to see. At first nothing seemed to happen. Then a large daisy sprouted out of the ground under Lock’s cage, the face of the flower the size of a hubcap.

  “Now!” he said, his voice a sharp whisper.

  I got the feeling speed was important. “Feet up!” I shouted as I set fire to the bottom of the cage, concentrating on the edges. The roots hissed and it was hard to tell if it was moisture escaping or if they were feeling pain.

  Lock was already hanging from the top like a monkey by the time the scorched cage bottom rained down, a mist of ash and charred splinters. He dropped down, landing comfortably on the top of the flower. He wobbled for a second, then managed to find balance, throwing down another seed as soon as he could. He made a path of them over to me. It was a little trickier burning out my own coop, but I managed.

  Ezra had shifted back to fox form, thinking that he’d be lighter and more nimble that way, but went back to human to help with our fellow prisoners. The kids didn’t blink at the giant flowers or being helped by a naked guy or the fact that the naked guy had recently been a fox. They’d clearly seen too much during their stay already.

  It didn’t take a lot of convincing to get them to follow us. Some were afraid of falling off the flowers, but Lock stood on the daisies he’d grown beneath the cages and caught them. Each time, the flower dipped alarmingly, and Lock was starting to sweat from all the exertion, the moisture cutting tracks through the ash from the cages. He still managed to hand the kids off to me and Ez, but he was getting tired. It was a good thing that not all of the enclosures were occupied

  There were thirteen of them on the stairs as Lock reached for the last one. Even after I’d burnt out the cage bottom, she held on, her thin limbs trembling. She was too afraid of the floor to let go. Lock and Ezra coaxed, but she wasn’t having it. I knew I wouldn’t be able to help so I stayed with the others. Ezra says I lack finesse. I guess I’m better at burning things down than talking to people.

  I’m okay with that.

  The girl held on until her arms gave out, which meant her fall wasn’t well-aimed, and she missed both the flower and Lock. He reached for her, almost losing his balance. She hit the dirt floor. Everything went still, even the girl, her eyes wide with panic. The floor rumbled and writhed. Roots shot out of the dirt and went for the girl, stopping just as they touched her. They trembled there, hovering along her skin, caressing her as she sobbed.

  “Help, please,” Lock said through clenched teeth. “I can’t hold them long.” Ezra and I stepped in at the same time. I scorched the roots while Ezra leaped down, snatching the girl up off the
floor before hopping back onto the stairs. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him move so fast. The girl clung to him, shaking.

  We were out of the cages, but still facing a very locked door. Normally, not a big obstacle for Ezra. He frowned at it. “The lock’s not a difficult one. I really need to figure out some way to carry my tools with me when I change. Maybe a small bag…”

  “Ezra—” I said, trying to get his attention, but he ignored me, his attention fully on the problem.

  Lock looked like he was about to pass out. “It’s too thick for us to try and kick it down. Maybe we can remove the hinges somehow…” He’d really expended a lot of energy if he was ignoring something so basic. Like, you know, that I was a firebug.

  “Yeah, hey, too bad we don’t have anything that could burn through a wooden door.” I crossed my arms and waited. They both turned to me, Lock with a sheepish expression. Ez just glared and told me to get on with it.

  I didn’t need to burn down the whole door, just the area around the knob. I guess with all the other security features, whoever made the house hadn’t bothered with anything fancy on the door. I held out my hands. Gestures aren’t necessary when I use my power, but they help me to focus.

  “As soon as I get it open, you guys get the kids out. I’ll go for Julian.” I didn’t wait to hear their response. The wood smoked, the knob turning a bright cherry red. I kicked it with the foot that still had a boot on, and it hit the floor with a clang.

  We ran up the twisty stairs, cresting onto the top floor like a wave. The man looked up from the cauldron he was stirring, shocked. There was a woman with him now, probably Dolly. She had Julian in an enormous mixing bowl. Though he was trembling like a frightened Chihuahua, his eyes darted around, looking for an opportunity to escape. They hadn’t broken him yet if he was still hoping for a chance to get away. He’d been stripped and I assumed bathed—he was clean now, and people tend to wash their food before they eat it, even if those people are human-eating witches. Julian was now being brushed with what I think was a wasabi glaze. A roaring fire had been built in the cast-iron stove, which was big enough to roast a boar inside. As the two adults gawped, the kids ran out the door. They didn’t manage to react until it was just me, Ezra, and Lock left inside.