by I.D. Blind
27. Sad Revelation
Eric slept until noon. Several times Albert and Riona knocked at his door, and he promised to come down soon, then fell asleep again. Finally getting out of bed, Eric put on gloves, unsuccessfully tried to hide his face under the cap, and tried to quickly get out of the house. At the doors he stumbled upon Riona.
“What happened to your face?” she exclaimed.
“Last night I fell off the bed.”
It was the most ridiculous answer, but the only one that came to his mind. Before Riona could start questioning him, Eric ran out of the house, on his way telling her he had an important meeting and would be back late.
Eric hurried to see Electra. Choosing the shortest route to the river, he passed by Enchanted Garden and heard loud voices: someone was arguing. Near the gate the voices grew louder, and now he could distinguish some words. Girls were quarrelling, and their voices were familiar. Eric went down the cobbled alley and saw how Electra and Cassandra were barely holding back a furious Medea so that she wouldn’t pounce on Dinah and Marion. Eric didn’t immediately guess what had happened, and only looking around, he understood what was going on.
The garden was destroyed.
Bushes were torn and scattered; all the birches and young trees, as well as the branches of the older ones had been chopped and thrown on the ground. Eric was going to ask who had done such barbarity, when he noticed clippers and an axe in Dinah and Marion’s hands. Eric felt something hurting in his chest as he bent down and picked up the uprooted bushes.
“Dinah, why?” A lump pressed against his throat.
“They know why!” Dinah turned to the witches. “Just try to do something. I’m no longer afraid of you.”
“You’re a monster!”
The girls had to hold Medea tighter.
“No, sweetheart, this brute is not worth it,” Cassandra told her.
“Monster!”
“Calling me a monster? Look at you, witch!”
Medea continued to curse and shout as her sisters dragged her into the arbor.
Eric walked to Dinah and pulled her sharply by her hand.
“How could you? Just, how? You loved this garden!”
“My hatred for them is stronger than my love for this garden. It’s just a bunch of trees.”
“Cutting the trees is mean and cruel.”
“I was hoping for your help, you promised to help me take revenge on the witches, and stabbed me in the back. Now I know you were always on their side; you were spying on us and reporting to them.”
“You have an extremely high opinion of yourself.” Eric turned away from her. He couldn’t see her, she was loathsome. He went to the arbor, where Electra was trying to pacify Medea.
“Maybe Uncle will be able to restore the garden? I will tell him what has happened, he will ask Grandfather for seeds,” Cassandra was thinking out loud, wiping the tears that were rolling down her cheeks.
Seeing Eric outside the arbor, Electra came out to him.
“I am so sorry,” Eric said. “I don't understand how she could do this. What has happened between you and Dinah? Why does she hate you so much?”
“Medea is naughty and always got in trouble,” Electra said. “As a child she pulled pranks on Dinah. When Dinah's parents complained, and Medea admitted she did the nasty pranks, Aunt punished her. But I don't know if Dinah's parents punished her for what she did to Medea.” Electra looked back at her sister and continued, “Two years ago, Medea and Dinah met in an old derelict house at the edge of the town. They quarreled, and Dinah pushed Medea. She stepped on the old bricks, which cracked, and Medea fell into a hole, breaking her leg. Dinah went home and didn’t tell anyone about the accident. We didn't know where Medea had disappeared, and were looking for her for two days. That’s when she started limping.”
“Dinah left her in the hole? I don't believe it. She couldn’t have.”
Electra turned to her sisters. Cassandra was talking to Medea, comforting her and explaining that she had to learn to control herself. Medea was hearkening to her in silence.
“How are you? Did you calm down?” Electra asked her.
Medea looked up at her, was about to say something, but seemed to change her mind and kept silent.
“Let's go home and talk to Uncle,” Electra said. “I am sure he’ll restore the garden.”
When the girls left the garden, Eric returned home. Dinah was waiting for him near the fence.
“You always asked me why I didn’t like them. Now, I hope you understand. Look what they have done to me!” She showed him her scratched arms. “That witch attacked me, left these bruises on my hands.”
“Another time I wouldn’t have believed you could do something like that, but after I saw the garden, I think you’re capable of anything.”
Dinah didn’t seem to understand him.
“You left her to die.”
“Do not rush to condemn me. You don’t know the whole story.”
“What story? You had an argument, I can understand that, even that you could push her. But you left her in the hole. You left her to die!”
“And who says this to me? The one who fooled me from the first day of his arrival? I could be seeing anyone I wished, but I chose you, and is this how you pay me?”
“I am sorry if I have offended you or unwillingly drawn away your admirers. I hope they will appear again, since you won’t be seeing me near anytime soon.”
Eric glanced at her for the last time. Her beauty was gone. All he saw now was boundless cruelty and hate. He left her by the fence and walked into the house.
28. And the Story Ends
It was late in the evening when Electra left Mrs. Robinson’s house and strode home. She was thinking about everything that had happened in the last months—the wrong spell, Miss Prizzi’s murder, and Eric. He was leaving Hollow tomorrow, and maybe she’d never see him again. Or maybe he’d visit her again, when he was older and didn’t need a permission for such long journeys. She smiled under her breath, thinking of the stranger sleeping on the bus stop. Would she ever guess how everything would turn out? Electra shook her head. Life was full of surprises.
She was walking slowly, carrying a wicker basket with books. When the snowfall increased, she quickened her steps, and taking a shortcut, approached the post office. Miss Prizzi’s house wasn’t far. She thought about the old woman and her murderer, and how the crime had happened, whether she knew him, whether she talked to him that night, or if the murderer caught her by surprise, and most importantly, why Miss Prizzi was killed. Yes, she was a gossip, and yes, many disliked her. Electra wasn’t fond of her either, but she never wished her dead. She felt sorry for her. She remembered the day in the cemetery and the sprouts coming out of the earth. If only she could understand what Miss Prizzi tried to tell them.
A hoarse croaking made Electra shudder. Those were the crows above Miss Prizzi’s house. She looked around to be sure there was no one nearby and entered the small garden. The sky reflected the vanished sun on the snow, and the place was lost in twilight. The thick snow crunched under her feet; a blizzard began, and she had to hurry home so as not to get caught in the heavy snow, but her legs—moving on their own—took her to the house. A sign saying ‘Do not enter’ was hanging on the door. The desire to enter the house made her violate the prohibition. The door was unlocked, and Electra stepped into the dark hallway. It was dusty inside, but not dirty. Miss Prizzi had been quite tidy, and as it turned out, a lover of porcelain. China plates decorated the walls, and porcelain tea sets adorned the shelves. From the hallway Electra entered the guest room full of dishes, teapots, and cups made of porcelain. She headed to the dark bedroom. The sun had already set, and the dimly colored sky couldn’t fight the approaching obscurity. Looking around, Electra saw candles on the cupboard by the window and lit them up by snapping her fingers.
She was haunted by the compulsive idea that something important was hidden there. She noticed a tissue peeking out of one of the lower shelves of
the wardrobe as if it had been squeezed inside the shelf in a haste, which contradicted with the extreme tidiness of the house. She opened the shelf and was surprised to see total disarray. She then opened the upper shelf and saw a similar pile of clothes. Electra put the basket on the floor, took one of the candles, went back to the guest room, and opened the cupboard. Inside it was a mess. Someone had been rummaging through Miss Prizzi’s shelves. Everything outside the shelves and the cupboards was untouched, but opening them, she saw the traces of a hasty search. Someone had been inside the house, looking for something. Could those be the sheriff's people? If yes, why would they so precisely try to hide the visible traces of their search and turn the insides of the shelves into a mess? Electra went into the dark kitchen and surveyed the walls and the furniture. Noting a kerosene lamp that could give better light, she lit it up and looked around. There was a half-open door between the two cabinets with kitchen utensils. She pushed it; the hinges creaked, and the door slowly opened, depicting the stairs that were leading down. Ten narrow steps, and she was in the basement of Miss Prizzi’s house. Electra looked around. It seemed that someone had been there recently; the cases were overturned, tools were lying on the floor.
A squeaky sound came from a corner; a mouse scuttled under her feet. She took a step back and looked at a tattered cabinet which had been pushed aside, and the part of the wall that had been hidden by the cabinet had a lighter color than the rest of the basement. Something shone in the middle of the light-shaded wall. Electra squinted at the steel lock. The wall around it bore signs of blows. Apparently, a safe was hidden in the wall, and someone had tried to break the lock, which didn’t have a keyhole. As Electra examined it, she recognized one of Orin's locks with a secret. It indeed didn’t have a keyhole, for it needed a combination to be opened. Electra pressed the case with the tips of her fingers, pushed it, and heard the familiar click. A tiny enclosure opened, revealing a dial with four rotating discs with inscribed numerals from zero to nine.
Ten thousand possible combinations!
She’d need days to open it. Electra tried several combinations, but they didn’t work. She began thinking about clues and possibilities. Maybe Miss Prizzi’s birth’s date, though she didn’t know it. Realizing how absurd it was, Electra still tried the combination with the date when Miss Prizzi was murdered. Nothing, of course. Miss Prizzi couldn’t make a combination of her own death's date. She’d probably use numbers that were easily remembered. Something passed through her mind. A date that she remembered well. Electra once overheard her talking about a date she always remembered. What was it? Someone’s birthday? Electra rummaged in her memory. What were they talking about that day? Wedding in summer. In June. June 25th. Electra quickly tried 0625. Nothing. She sighed, looked away, but curiosity took over. She tried the same numbers in other orders: 6025, 0526, 6250, 0256—the lock clicked.
Electra took off the lock, put it into her pocket, and opened the safe. Hesitant at first, she stretched out her hand into the dark hole and touched the inside. She pulled out an old yellowed roll of paper, leaned it against the wall, and read what appeared to be a handwritten will:
I, Samuel O'Leary, being of sound mind and clear memory,
aware of the significance of my acts and guided by them,
acting without influence and fraud, make this testament
and leave all my property, which includes a house
at Shady Alley 33, and a mare, to my grandson
Frederick O'Leary.
May 12, 19–
Someone came downstairs and stood behind. Already guessing who it was, Electra turned around. Mr. O’Leary was looking at her, toying with his big clippers.
“Give that to me.”
“You did that. You killed Miss Prizzi.”
He took a step forward. Electra shrank back and stumbled against the wall.
“You murdered old Miss Prizzi for this house.”
“It was always my house. It belonged to my grandfather and was supposed to be mine, but the old hag inherited the house where she was nothing but a governess, before I managed to come to Hollow. I knew there was a will. I asked her to let me search the house, but she never agreed. And why would she?” the gardener shouted. “She wouldn’t let me find the will, as she’d lose something that never belonged to her in the first place. Bribed that scumbag notary George Waller, peace do not be upon him, with the mare, and became the owner of my house. Now give me the will.”
“Mr. O’Leary, maybe you are right, maybe this house should have been yours, but you could have acted differently—”
“Don’t teach me life, child! You’re too young for that.”
“It was you in the garden that day,” Electra said, then added in a low voice, “The stalks at the cemetery. I should have guessed.” She raised her eyes at the gardener. “How could you kill an old—?”
“Nasty hag? She’d been asking for that.”
“You can’t decide who should live and who should not.”
“Teaching me again?”
“You knew we’d think it had been us, didn’t you?”
“Not just think, silly girl. It has been you. I’ll tell the sheriff you have summoned a creature that killed Noemia. Sheriff De Roy hates you too much to doubt my words. He’ll make your sisters confess. As for you, thank you for opening that safe. I am not sure my clippers would cut that lock.”
They became silent. Electra had only one thought in her head—to get out of the basement. She knew he wouldn’t allow her to come out alive.
“Stand back and let me go.”
Mr. O'Leary shook his head. “I don’t know what to do with you. I don’t wish you ill, but I can’t let you ruin everything.”
“Let me leave,” she said in a faltering voice.
“Forgive me.” The gardener stepped forward.
Electra blanched. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Forgive me,” he said again, rising the clippers.
“Stand back, you know who I am. Stand back.”
“Are you threatening me, girl? I promise I’ll do it quickly.”
Electra’s throat turned into dust. She had skills that might help her, but in those terrifying seconds nothing came to mind. Too scary-looking was Mr. O'Leary with the menacing clippers in his hand. When he lunged at her, Electra flounced aside, then snapped her fingers, making the light in the kerosene lamp go out, and slipped to the left, running upstairs.
“Witch!”
She dashed out of the basement and ran to the front door. It was locked. Electra looked around. The only salvation was the window in the guest room. Electra grabbed a chair and threw it at the glass, breaking it. She folded the will, put it into her pocket, and was getting out through the window when the gardener grabbed the hem of her skirt. Electra cried as she fell on the window sill, cutting her knees on the broken fragments. Mr. O'Leary pulled her stronger. She clutched a piece of the broken window glass, and turning to the gardener, hit him in the shoulder. Mr. O'Leary bounced back, letting go of her dress. Electra got out of the house and ran to the post office, but it was closed already. She knocked on the door in vain. Realizing that no help would come from there, Electra ran up the hill and went out on a deserted road. The snow was falling heavily and swirling intensely. A strong wind was blowing, and the snowfall was hitting her face, making her lose her concentration and sense of direction. It was dark, and she knew her family would soon be looking for her, but they might not manage to find her before the gardener. Her knees ached and bled; the pain from running became unbearable. Electra leaned against a tree to catch her breath. She looked back, trying to make out the form of the gardener through the darkness and snow. He didn’t make her wait and would catch up with her in a few seconds. She ran without looking back, hearing his steps behind her, the sound of his feet coming closer. Electra didn’t have such keen eyesight like her sister; she slipped in the dark and crashed on her back. The footsteps were there. Just as she got up, Mr. O'Leary grabbed her by the hair.
Electra screamed and tried to get out of his painful grip. Mr. O'Leary didn’t keep his balance, and clutching each other, they tumbled down the hill. Though the pain in her knees was agonizing, Electra rose to her feet and tried to run away, but Mr. O'Leary seized her ankle and pulled her down, then tried to hit her with the clippers. Electra dodged the blow, and the clippers got stuck in the damp earth. She felt a rock on the ground and hit him on the temple. Mr. O'Leary yelled and loosened his grip. Electra broke out of his hands, crawling forward on all fours.
“Electra!”
She looked around, searching for him. It was Eric, she knew his voice. She tried to call his name, but her throat issued a long hissing sound. He was on top of the hill, and she tried to clamber up, but her hands wouldn’t obey. Mr. O'Leary grabbed her leg and pulled her down. With a shriek she rolled to the ravine.
“Help!” she shouted at last.
Mr. O'Leary began treading on Electra’s hands and trampling on her fingers when Eric reached the ravine and shoved the man to the ground. Electra crept down the ravine and barely held on to a small jut. She tried to climb up, but the ravine was too steep, her feet were slipping down. She could hear the sounds of blows and Mr. O’Leary’s curses. The voices quietened, and someone's feet appeared at the top. The gardener couldn’t reach her, but he had a big rock in his hands that he lifted above his head, aiming at Electra.
But instead of throwing the rock at her, he turned around suddenly and dropped the rock to the ground.
“Noemia?” His voice sent shudders down Electra’s spine. Plunging her fingers into the damp soil, she inched up the ravine and peeped up.
Miss Prizzi always collected her hair in a bun, but now the wavy strands cascaded down like a white waterfall, covering her shoulders and her back. The hem of her pink nightgown fluttered in the wind.
“I… killed you. Is this witchcraft? Some spell?”
The dead woman didn’t disappear. Sneering, she took a step towards the gardener, making him recoil.
“Go away!” he cried. “I killed you. Begone!”
Eric pulled Electra aside a second before the specter darted forward, then took her murderer in her arms, and together they soared over the ravine. Mr. O'Leary's scream rang out throughout the gorge.
“He had killed her,” Electra said through tears. “It was him.”
Eric put his arms around her and folded her to his chest. “He’s gone. They both are gone. I'll take you home.”