Witch Hollow and the Wrong Spell (Book 1)

by I.D. Blind

25. Otherland

  Uncle Albert threw a tantrum when he learned what had happened. “Pack your things,” he said. “You’re leaving by the end of this week.”

  Without a word, Eric went to his room and sat by the window, pressing the bag of ice to his swollen face. “You did it,” he said to himself, “you’re a total fool.”

  She’d never talk to him again. She’d never even look at him. He scanned the paper, but there were no messages from her, and he had run out of ink and couldn’t write to her.

  He thought of Dinah. Had he made her promises and broken them? Probably yes, if she reacted that way. He should have been more careful with the words he had spoken to her. He might have told her things without meaning them. He had never wished to hurt her. He didn’t want to hurt any of them.

  “Idiot,” Eric muttered. “A complete idiot.”

  There would be no more magic in his life, no miracles. He’d leave soon and never be back to Hollow, never see Electra again. But he could still bid goodbye to a part of her. Eric grabbed his guitar and went to Enchanted Garden. It was quiet there, and he’d sit in solitude, and maybe the whispers would call his name again, one last time letting him experience a bit of magic.

  But the frostbitten garden was silent. Eric waited and when no whisper sounded nearby, he sat down, leaned his back against the arbor, and started playing his guitar. Bits of snow fell over his head. Still strumming the guitar, he looked up and saw the branches stir. The trees shook the snow off, and clumps of snowflakes tumbled down around him. Stems climbed out of the ground. Small and thin, they made their way through the snow, and the longer he played, the thicker the stalks grew, wrapping themselves around the columns of the arbor. He forgot about the cold and wind, for the cold was gone, and the wind became warmer. Leaves rustled across the branches, and snowdrops peeped from the earth. The chirping of the crickets filled the place, and a red robin perched on a lilac shrub.

  Eric ran his eyes around the garden, understanding now why it was called Enchanted. Only an enchanted garden could flourish with all the colors of the rainbow in the midst of winter. Eric couldn’t help sniggering. Suddenly all the troubles seemed to be gone. He was happy again. That garden gave him hope that everything wasn’t lost yet, that it was too soon to feel crestfallen. He had but a few days, but things could change even in seconds.

  I’ll find a way to talk to her, he thought.

  If not for his job, Eric would have sat in the garden till the evening, but duty called him to Pickering’s shop. He treaded back to the gate, and with his every step the garden returned into winter. When he closed the gate, Enchanted Garden was completely shrouded in white.

  “What has happened to your face?” Pickering asked when Eric stepped into the shop.

  “Nothing.”

  “I see the history is repeating itself.”

  “What do you mean?” Eric glanced at Pickering, but the man ignored his stare. He gave Eric two broken musical boxes and told him to take them to Colin Fitzroy for repairs.

  “To the blue castle?”

  “To the blue castle.”

  Eric looked at the boxes. “They don’t seem to be broken.”

  “You want me to send someone else?”

  Eric hastily shook his head. “I’ll be quick,” he said, and dashed out of the shop. If Electra was at home, he’d see her and talk to her. Eric stopped at the gates of the blue castle to think about what to tell her. He’d been thinking about it the whole way, but whatever he came up with seemed wrong. In the end, he just went into the yard and looked around. The place was empty, but someone was in the barn. Eric hoped it wasn’t Jack, and was immensely pleased to see Cassandra coming out.

  “Mr. Pickering has sent me.” He showed her the package with the boxes.

  Cassandra stretched her hands out, but when he looked pleadingly at her, a faint smile played upon her lips, and she went into the house.

  His heart fluttered when Electra came out. She looked at his face, then cupped his broken cheekbone.

  “Jack looks no better,” she said. “I am very sorry. He shouldn’t have done this.”

  “Did he tell you what had happened?”

  She nodded.

  “At least you listen to me. He didn’t let me say a word, but it's not like Thomas said.”

  “Everything is alright. You don’t have to explain me anything.”

  “I have to.” He squeezed her hand in his. “I never wished to hurt you. Never. I am sorry, Electra.”

  “I know. Also, you don’t think that the words of people like Thomas Baldric and Dickens McCormack may mean anything to me, do you? If only Jack wasn’t so quick-tempered. You know he’s not always like that, only when it’s about us.”

  “It means you’re still my…” Eric thought of the right word “…witch?”

  She gave him a puzzled look, then burst into laughter. Eric rushed to take her into his arms and dropped the package on the ground. The boxes cracked.

  “What was that?”

  “Broken music boxes,” Eric said, and this time it was him who burst into laughter.

  “Uncle is not at home.” Electra picked up the boxes. “Come with me, let’s put them on the table in his workroom, he’ll mend them.”

  Through the dim corridor, Electra led Eric to Uncle Colin’s workroom. Beautiful music was coming out of one of the rooms upstairs. Medea was lost in her thoughts, Electra told him, and when she was thoughtful, she always played the flute or violin. Eric followed Electra across the mazing corridor, stumbling a few times in the darkness and almost falling down. He had long noticed that this was a strange house. From the inside it was several times bigger than it seemed from the outside; there were too many rooms even for a four-story castle, and he longed to explore them all.

  Uncle Colin’s workroom smelled of paint and varnish. Eric spotted many of the things that were sold at Pickering’s: figured clocks, japanned boxes with secrets, quill pens, locks and keys, and music boxes like the ones he had brought with him. He put the broken boxes on the table next to the instruments and cans with paint. They were going back when Electra gasped and stopped halfway. Eric didn’t manage to ask what was wrong, when she disappeared behind a tall bookcase, pulling him after her. Eric wanted to say something, but Electra covered his mouth with her hand and shook her head, then peered cautiously into the hallway.

  “What’s happening?” Eric whispered.

  Without answering him, Electra looked around, then rested her eyes on a large painting over the wall. “We need to hide,” she whispered, stretching her hand to the canvas.

  Eric’s jaw dropped down when he saw Electra’s hand enter the oil painting up to the elbow.

  “This is the only way.” She grabbed Eric's hand and dragged him into the painting.

  “I can't believe—” was all that Eric managed to say before Electra pulled him after her. Discarding all logical thoughts, Eric closed his eyes and plunged into the painting.

  The room was small and dusty, swarmed with cobwebs. The only window was boarded up, and the sunlight penetrated through the narrow slits. The window sill was crowded with random objects like toys, clogs, books, paper rolls and pewter sculptures. Electra pushed Eric into the corner of the room.

  “What is—?”

  “Hush!” She once again covered his mouth with her hand. “Quiet.”

  Eric looked around, trying to understand where he was, assuring himself that it was one of the rooms of the castle rather than the reverse side of the painting. He heard a wheeze, then a rattle. Electra gasped and looked into the frame. It was dark.

  “He dropped the painting on the floor!”

  “And?”

  “We can’t go back through it.”

  “Electra, are we really in the painting?”

  “Yes.”

  “In the painting?”

  “Yes.” Electra stared at the boarded window.

  “In the painting? Really?”

  “Really, really. We must figure out ho
w to get out of here.”

  “And how do you usually go out of a... painting?”

  “Usually the same way you enter. But he dropped the painting on the floor. We have to find another way, another painting, and get out of it.”

  “Please, explain how could we enter a painting? At least, approximately.”

  “Eric, believe me, that’s the least of our problems. There is a dangerous creature on the other side. My herbs have lost their power; thankfully tonight is a new moon.”

  Eric didn’t understand anything she was talking about. He watched her look for something in the pile of junk on the floor.

  “Will you tell me what you’re looking for? Maybe I can help?”

  “We must get out of the room and find a different painting. There is no door, and the window is shut. We need something to open it.”

  Eric tried to pull off the boards with his bare hands, but they were strongly nailed.

  “We need some sort of tool.”

  “That’s what I’m looking for.”

  “Listen, what if we wait until someone sees the painting on the floor and lifts it up?”

  “Not a good idea”

  “Why?”

  “First, I don't know when that might happen, maybe now, maybe in a few hours, maybe tomorrow. Secondly, I don't know what to expect here. This is not our world, and we better not stay here long. And thirdly, I have to warn the girls that he’s in the house.”

  “Let’s see.” Eric pulled a pry bar out of the pile. “This can work.” He stuck the end of the iron tool under the board and with all his strength, pressed on it. Nails yielded, the board fell off, and the light lit the room. Eric pulled out the rest of the boards, then smashed the glass with the pry bar and peered out. The window was on the first floor, they could easily get out.

  Eric climbed through the window, held out his hands to Electra and helped her out. The grass was greening under their feet; it was morning, and the sun was shining as if in the midst of summer. But something strange and obscure was in the place. Because of the dull, grey mist, the terrain seemed unreal. A drowsy, lethargic mood was hanging over the place, which reminded Eric of a dream where everything absurd seems right, and unreal seems real. And yet the tree that he touched was real, and the earth he stood on was real, too.

  “Straight from the winter into the summer,” Eric thought aloud, looking into the distant hills, where in the arms of the fog wings of the windmills were spinning. “Now what?”

  “We must find a way out.” Electra looked around. “Let's go down the road.”

  “And do you often go through the paintings?” Eric asked as they walked across the green lawn.

  “Only when it’s necessary.”

  “So, you can go through any painting?”

  “Of course not. Don’t try this at home.”

  “And what does the exit look like?”

  “The same as the entrance—a picture frame. It can be square, round, oval, rectangular, big or small. Whatever painting that will take us to our house.”

  “We can go anywhere else?”

  Electra nodded.

  The weather changed. A cold wind gusted, the greens under their feet thinned out. After another minute, the land entered the realm of winter and snow.

  “What was that thing in your house?”

  “Don’t even ask.”

  “Why? What was that?”

  “A Demon,” she said with a sigh.

  “A Demon? And where did it come from?”

  “We evoked it.”

  “You joking?”

  “I wish I was.”

  “But why did you do that?”

  She heaved a sigh. “We did a very stupid thing, and everything turned upside down.” Electra stopped. “Look over there. Do you see those frozen apple trees? There, see them? That’s an apple orchard; it’s the painting in my bedroom. There may be a way out. Let’s go!”

  Electra and Eric ran up the hill and stopped on the bank of a river. It was frozen, covered with a layer of ice which might support their weight. A thin mist was creeping up from the river, spreading all over the place.

  Eric looked at Electra. “Shall we cross the river?”

  She didn’t move. “I can’t pass this river,” she said.

  Eric looked back at the surface of the river shrouded with the mist. “Why?”

  “Witches can’t pass the rivers inside the portals.”

  “Then we need to find another way.”

  “The river is long; we can go all day and still not find a bridge. You must cross it now.”

  “And leave you here? No way.”

  “But I can’t move. I can’t pass the river inside this painting. Not on my own.”

  Electra tried to step forward, but her legs seemed to be nailed to the ground. She looked at Eric, dejectedly shaking her head. He looked around, then bent down and picked her up.

  “If you can’t on your own, then let’s try to pass it together.” He went to the river and took a precautionary step. The ice didn’t crack. He wasn’t sure how strong it was and if it could withstand them both at once, but he had no other choice. “The hard part is behind,” he cheered himself, inwardly pleading that the ice wouldn’t crack, wondering how deep the river was, and if they could get out after falling into it. “Almost done. Another couple of steps and we’re there.”

  His eyes were focused on the bank which was approaching with every small step. It took him almost ten minutes to cross the path which in other circumstances would have taken half as long.

  When they reached the other bank, both sighed out with relief. Eric put Electra on the ground.

  “Thank you.” She took his hand. “Now, let’s go back to the familiar places.”

  A large square frame was hanging between two apple trees. Electra looked inside to make sure it was indeed her bedroom in the blue castle, and they climbed into the frame.

  Eric jumped on the floor of the bedroom and stared at the painting of the apple trees in the winter. What place was that? Another dimension? A parallel world? His thoughts were cut short when the door flew open and Medea barged in.

  “What are you doing here? El, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  “It was in the house. Has anyone seen it?”

  “Yes. Trouble chased him away.”

  “Good cat!” Electra turned to Eric. “Come, I'll see you to the door.”

  26. Banishment

  “Go to the Fortune-telling Room,” Jack told Electra. “And try to learn from the crystal ball where the Demon is hiding tonight.”

  “She won’t tell me anything.”

  “Be persistent. You’re a witch.”

  Electra went to the room, spent there nearly an hour, then dashed out of the castle so fast Jack didn’t manage to stop her. She reached Pickering’s shop, and calling Eric’s name, ran inside. Eric was in the corner, with a stack of rolls in his hands.

  “Electra?”

  “Thank heavens you’re here. No time to explain, but you’re in danger. You must come with me.”

  “What has happened now?”

  “Not now.” She pulled his hand. The rolls of manuscripts scattered over the floor and Eric hurried to pick them up.

  “Sit down for a minute, I shall finish soon.”

  “You don’t understand; there is no time. Tonight, it will come after you.”

  “Who?”

  “The Demon!”

  “After me?”

  “Please, come with me right now, you have to be safe, we will protect you. We must hurry. It’s dark already.”

  “But why do you think it will come after me?”

  “I saw it. In the crystal ball. She doesn’t always talk to me, but she did this time. She showed you.”

  “A crystal ball?”

  “Oh, Eric, are you doing this purposely? I will tell everything on the road, now we must hurry. We shall hide you.”

  “I can’t hide. Albert and Riona are waiting for me at home. Unc
le Albert is already angry. I want to spend these last two days without scandals.”

  “We shall think of something.” Electra pushed him to the door. “Think of something, but not now, not now.”

  Eric got out of her grasp, went to the window, and looked outside. “We can stay here. Hide here. This is a safe place. I don’t want to come to your house. Your cousin won’t be overjoyed at my presence, and I have no wish to be an uninvited guest.”

  “I will tell Jack that you’re in danger. He’ll protect you.”

  “And will banish this Demon.”

  Electra and Eric turned to the door where Jack was leaning against the wall. “I have a plan to banish the Demon,” he said. “But you’ll have to come with me.”

  “Since when have you started worrying about me?”

  “Since never. I’m absolutely not worried about you.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “I said I will banish the Demon. To my great regret, I can’t do that without you.”

  Eric smirked. “You need my help?”

  “Your help is not needed. I need you.”

  “Jack?” Electra’s voice trembled. “No, Jack, we didn’t plan that.”

  “Quiet, El. Not now.”

  Eric looked at them uncomprehendingly. A moment later it dawned on him. “Am I going to be bait?”

  “You’re quick on the draw.”

  “No, Jack. You can’t do this. We didn’t talk about bait; we were supposed to lure him to the forest.”

  “This is a great chance. We can’t miss it.” Jack looked at Eric. “What have you decided?”

  Electra ran up to him. “It’s too dangerous, you don’t have to.”

  “Elie, you heard him.”

  “No, I’m against it.”

  “What’s your plan?” Eric asked Jack.

  “I will tell you in the woods.”

  “What should I take with me?”

  “I’ll provide all that’s needed.”

  Eric went to the door; Electra followed him, and all three went outside.

  “Electra, give him your horse, you will ride with me,” Jack told her.

  But she straddled her Greylock, and under Jack’s displeased glance reached out to Eric.

  “I hope you’re not going to kidnap him and hide from me. You still won’t hide him from a Demon. I’ll go after Hector and Ariadne. See you at the forest’s edge at ten sharp.” Jack hit the spurs.

  Eric looked at his watch; it was 8:30 P.M. They agreed that in an hour Electra would wait for him near the white bridge.

  At nine o’clock, Eric went to his room, and after twenty minutes climbed through the window and came down with the help of an apple tree. Electra was waiting for him on horseback at the appointed place. Eric clasped his arms around her back and asked her to ride fast.

  “You don't have to sacrifice yourself,” she said.

  “Take me to the woods.”

  Greylock didn’t move.

  “Electra, take me to the woods.”

  The horse trotted down the road.

  “At a gallop. Otherwise, I’ll go by foot.”

  Electra hit the spurs, and her horse galloped across the snowy clearing and swept under the branches of the maples. When they reached the forest’s edge, Eric dismounted the horse and marched to the trees with thick shadows hiding behind them. Electra followed him, holding the reins.

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I won’t turn my back on friends.”

  A scream came from the woods and vanished quickly.

  “You can’t imagine what there might be in there.”

  “So tell me.”

  “Goblins, fauns, imps, sylphs... is that enough?”

  “Definitely.” Eric smiled.

  Electra pointed to a star in the constellation of Orion. “That’s Betelgeuse; it shines brighter than the others. Whatever happens, if I tell you to run, you will listen to me. You will run away, the star will show you the way. Don’t stop, no matter what happens, whatever you have not seen. If I tell you to, you run.”

  Eric took her in his arms. “I like it that you’re so worried about me.”

  “This all is my fault. I can’t forgive myself for this, but if something happens to you, it will break my heart.”

  “Nothing will happen, I promise you.”

  In his eyes there was neither fear nor regret. He was sure of what he was saying, and his confidence passed onto her and ousted the sorrow of her face. Electra wrapped her arms around his back and closed her eyes, feeling his lips almost touch hers when the crunch of twigs made them start. Jack, Hector, Cassandra, and Ariadne appeared behind the trees.

  “It’s time,” Jack said.

  “Ride home, Greylock.” Electra patted her horse, and he trotted away in the dark.

  The forest was cold and gloomy. Jack and Hector had lanterns in their hands, and crossbows and quivers with arrows on their backs. Jack also had something like a net on his back, but instead of a rope, it was made of thin metal.

  “Will you give me at least a dagger?”

  “Quiet,” Hector whispered.

  “Bait doesn’t need a dagger,” Jack said.

  Through overgrown spruces and centenarian oaks they reached a circular clearing with one single tree in the middle. It was sky-high, and almost devoid of lower branches. Jack looked around and turned to Eric. “This is your place.”

  Eric walked up to the tree.

  “You will stand by this tree without moving. And when I say without moving, I mean not moving at all. Whatever happens, no matter how scared you are, how close the Demon or anything else comes, don’t move. We’ll cover you in any way, but if you move, the arrows might hit you. Understood?”

  Eric nodded. “So I won’t even have a dagger?”

  “The dagger won’t help you. It will become blunt.”

  “Blunt? Then how are you going to kill him?”

  “And you thought you could kill a Demon with a dagger?” Jack turned to the others. “Hector, you’ll be the closest, on that oak.” He took a flask from his pocket and poured the contents around the lonely tree, drawing an invisible circle, then hung one of the lanterns on the single branch.

  “You three”—he looked at the girls—“each of you climb on one of these trees, and remember, the Demon is not your business. Follow the road to the north, and if anything appears, shoot without hesitation.”

  Electra helped the girls climb onto the trees, then went to Eric for the last time. “You can still refuse,” she said. “We will think of another plan.”

  Eric put his finger on her lips. “Everything will be fine.”

  “It’s me who should reassure you. At least I know what to expect.”

  “Electra, take your position!” Jack told her.

  Electra gave a dirk to Eric. “Jack is right, it will become blunt. But if something else attacks, hit it with full force. Don’t feel sorry for anything, everything that appears here tonight is a foe. And remember about the star.”

  “Be careful,” Eric told her.

  Jack hung the remaining three lanterns on the branches and took position on the tree at the edge of the clearing. All were silent. For about twenty minutes nothing happened. Eric looked at Electra’s tree, but couldn’t see her. Only four lanterns illuminated the clearing; the light was dim. Eric couldn’t understand how they were going to shoot in such dim light, but hoped they knew what they were doing.

  His legs were tired. He sat down on the snow and rubbed his numb neck. It was cold; he was beginning to freeze, but had to remain still. His attention was grabbed by a barely audible crunch. The sound came from the depths of the forest, from the north as Jack had warned. Eric looked at the trees, thinking of a way to let the shooters know about the noise: Jack gave clear instructions—no sound. The sounds were closer now. He spotted wisps of light in the darkness—first one, then the other. One more step, and he would see the face staring at him. But the eyes stopped near the snowy
spruce. The creature was looking at Eric, Eric was looking at it, and none of them was moving. Something scratched the rind of the tree, and Eric gripped the haft of the dirk. Claws, paws, and eyes rushed at him through the shadows. Eric forgot about the dirk, forgot about running away. With his mouth agape he stared at the creature coming from the darkness—a small head, a furry body, four thin limbs, and dreadful claws. They had almost grabbed his face when something whistled in the air and threw the beast back. It whirled on the snow, letting out a squeaky moan. As Eric squinted at the furry imp an already familiar cry rang out nearby. Another whistling sound, and another imp was nailed to the ground. Eric felt helpless in the middle of the snow clearing while the whistles sounded around him, and the imps, one after another, tumbled on the ground. More eyes gazed at him. Now they were climbing up the trees and leaping down, whilst others tried to crawl behind his back. But none of them could reach him. They were screeching and falling on the ground; already a dozen of the furry creatures lay across the clearing. Eric hoped the shooters wouldn’t run out of arrows, as there seemed no end to the imps. One of them hopped onto the tree where Eric was standing, and sinking its claws into the bark, crawled down. The imp would’ve cut off half of Eric's face, but an arrow pierced his head and nailed him to the bark. Eric still couldn’t see the archers, but knew that each of them was watching him. But he wasn’t sure they had seen the black smoke that came out of nowhere and began to thicken under his feet. The vapor evened with Eric's height, and the nebulous shadow took on a human form. He saw the bare feet, ragged pants, the bag on his head, and the rope around his neck. The hanged man let out the same blood-chilling wheezing.

  “Hector, come!” Jack cried, jumping down the tree.

  Hector rushed to the Demon from the other side. Jack threw him the metal net. Hector grabbed it by the edge and they were about to throw the net over the Demon when it transformed into a black mantle and slipped under their feet, its long beak sliding above the ground. The Demon soared to one of the trees and disappeared in the branches.

  “Are you alright?” Hector looked at Eric.

  He nodded, his heart rising and falling with irregular respiration.

  “It’s still here,” Jack whispered. He caught a shaggy imp in flight and squeezed its throat. The beast writhed, tore Jack's sleeve with its claws and scratched his arm from shoulder to wrist. Jack pulled an arrow out of his quiver and stabbed the imp in the eye. “The edge is blunt, but still kills.” He tossed the furry body into the snow.

  “What shall we do?” Hector asked.

  Arrows whistled around, but Jack wasn’t paying attention to them. “We must find him before he leaves the forest.”

  Someone screamed from one of the trees, then a shade dashed through the branches and hid inside the thicket.

  “Was that a witch?” Hector asked.

  “Doesn’t matter what shape he takes. Let him shapeshift a hundred times, I will still catch him. Eric, stay here, and don’t move.”

  “As if I was moving before. If you have a plan, tell me.”

  “I have. Hector, we’re going after him. We should force it to enter the circle.”

  “It’s on the tree!” one of the girls cried out.

  They looked up. A gargoyle had perched on the top of a poplar, her red eyes staring down at them.

  “Go away from Eric, it may come down after him,” Jack said, running in the opposite direction.

  As soon as Eric was left alone in the middle of the clearing, the gargoyle opened its grey wings and rushed down at him.

  “Hector!” Jack yelled. “Hurry!”

  Eric raised the dirk and waited, his heart thundering against his ribs. Even if the Demon couldn’t be killed with a dirk, he wouldn’t run. This might be the last chance.

  “Run!” Electra cried. “Eric, run!”

  He didn’t move. Electra jumped from the tree and ran toward him.

  “Run, Eric!”

  Jack reached Eric a second before the gargoyle, and pushed him into the snow. Hector grabbed the edge of the net and threw it at the gargoyle the moment it swept over Jack and Eric. Electra caught the other edge of the net. The gargoyle tangled in the net and began to fight for freedom. Jack and Eric took the net from Electra and dragged the gargoyle into the circle. Jack lit the match and threw it at the mark on the ground. The circle flared up and the Demon began blazing. They waited, holding him inside the burning net, but he wasn’t dying. The gargoyle continued to screech and convulse.

  “It’s not a Demon,” Jack said at last. “It’s not a Demon. It's a Ghost.”

  “Who cares?” Eric shouted. “We won't keep it long, think of something!”

  “Electra! Over here. Banish it, it's a Ghost.”

  Electra stared blankly at him.

  “It's a Ghost! What was the spell?”

  The metal net had turned crimson. They couldn’t hold it any longer.

  “Hurry up. Banish it away!”

  Electra went on her knees before the fire and began drawing the pentagram in the mud. As soon as she chanted the spell under her breath, silver lightning crossed the sky. Then the thunder boomed, and the Ghost struggled harder. Tangled in the metal net, he stretched out his head, and his burning substance almost scalded Electra's face. For a split second their eyes met. The Ghost screeched at her and writhed inside the flames. The symbols on the ground turned crimson and inflamed, and the Ghost turned into a grey shadow.

  “Let it go,” Electra said.

  The boys willingly let go of the hot net. The shadow crept out of it and melted in the air.

  Electra sighed out. It was over.

  As Cassandra and Ariadne approached them, all six looked at each other and began laughing—quiet at first, their laughter soon turned into a loud guffaw.

  “It’s over,” Cassandra exulted. “We banished it.” She took antiseptics from her first-aid kit and washed Jack’s burned palms. Electra and Ariadne did the same for Eric and Hector.

  “Does it hurt much?” Electra asked Eric, bandaging his palms.

  “It’s alright. How are you?”

  “I don’t remember being better lately.”

  “You have scratches on your face, my poor girl. I should’ve taken better care of you.”

  “You already did a lot,” she said, holding his scalded hands in hers.

  “So?” Hector said. “It’s gone, right?”

  “Right,” Jack said. “But it wasn’t a Demon, it was a Ghost. And if it wasn’t a Demon, one important question is left.”

  Everyone looked at him.

  “Who killed old Prizzi?”

  All plunged into silence.

  “So, it wasn’t us?” Electra exclaimed. “We didn’t kill her?”

  “True,” Cassandra cried out. “It wasn’t us!”

  “We’re not murderers.” Electra let out a relieved sigh. “But then, who did it?”

  “A lot of people disliked her, but I don’t know who would want her dead,” Ariadne said.

  “The happiness didn’t last long,” Eric said. “Just when we rejoiced that this creature was gone, there came the bad news—a murderer is lurking in the town.”

  “Leave it to Sheriff De Roy, it’s his job to find the murderer,” Hector said. “I think we all deserve a little rest. Besides, wolves will soon appear here. We’ve laid a good table for them.”

  Everyone agreed with him, and picking up their arms, left the forest.

  Eric got into his room the same way he had climbed out. The house was quiet, which meant that his disappearance had stayed unnoticed. He turned on the light and looked in the mirror. His face carried traces of fresh beatings and burns. The O’Brians would notice them. He was too tired to think about it now. His body was longing for bed, and Eric didn’t make it wait. He barely had time to get under the blanket, before he sank into a heavy sleep.