Cattywampus

by Ash Van Otterloo

  “Katybird—”

  “Your outhouse could be hostile. Since it came from your magic, it’s probably mean as a junkyard dog. You’ll want help.”

  “Rude much?”

  “Just sayin’.”

  Delpha considered taking off in a dead run. She could probably lose Katybird in a few minutes. The girl was short. But then, it might be smart to take someone with her, for practicality’s sake. What if she needed help cornering Puppet? “Fine. Tag along. But that don’t mean you’re forgiven. I ain’t done bein’ mad.”

  Katybird shrugged. “Of course not.”

  “I DON’T SEE ANYTHING, DELPHA.”

  “Shhhh!” Delpha put up a hand. “Quiet.”

  A rhododendron limb slapped Katy’s face, coating her freckled nose in sap. She grimaced. A miserable, sticky afternoon of hiking later, she was in no mood to be shushed. “We’ve been tracking your shed for a million years. I’m startin’ to think you’re yanking my chain,” she muttered, trying unsuccessfully to wipe off the sticky stuff with her sleeve.

  “There!” Delpha hissed, pointing down the hill. “See those saplings movin’?”

  Several yards below, teenaged cottonwoods quivered as something lumbered through them. A hulking something. “Black bear, maybe,” Katy whimpered, pulse quickening. Black bears were shy creatures, but a mother with cubs was not something you wanted to surprise in the woods. Not if you liked your face. “We oughta make noise so it knows we’re here, don’t you think?” She cupped her hands and drew a preparatory breath.

  “Wait! Listen!” Delpha lifted a steady finger. Creeeeeeeak. Shriek, squeak, grooooooooan. That was no bear. It was a noise like pine trees scraping together in a windstorm. Katy gazed wonderingly at Delpha, who winked back. “I think it’s Puppet,” she mouthed.

  Katy blinked. “What’s a puppet?”

  “My shed.”

  “You … named your shed?”

  “Yep.”

  To each her own, Katy thought to herself. But this girl’s a nut. She was just about to tell Delpha so, when a small wooden building on stacked-stone feet staggered into the narrow power line clearing. Katybird let loose a frantic giggle.

  “You—you actually brought it to life!” Katy stammered, her brain unable to wrap itself around what she was seeing. The thing’s legs looked bizarre, like some rock troll’s from a storybook. It was honest-to-goodness magic, and so different from her family’s. This wasn’t coaxing or communicating. This was grabbing reality by the reins and changing its course. The thrill of it covered Katy’s whole body in a network of chill bumps.

  “Yes, I’m aware,” snapped Delpha, jamming a finger to her lips. “Quiet, you’ll scare it off!” She scowled, but Katy thought she saw a twinkle of something else in Delpha’s dark eyes, too. Was Delpha McGill proud? In most people, smugness would be off-putting, but in Delpha’s stoic face, it made her seem more approachable—almost human.

  Katy lowered her voice. “How’re we gonna catch it?”

  “Well, that’s the question, ain’t it? I don’t even know if it can hear us. We better just sneak up, quiet-like, and see what happens.”

  Katybird nodded. The girls skidded down on feet and rear ends into the gully, then crouch-ran through the underbrush on soft feet. When the shed was fifty paces away, Delpha whispered, “All right—I’ll creep in from behind, and you run around and cut it off. I’m gonna try to break the spell.” Puppet’s rumbling form paused, as if the shack were eavesdropping on them. Something in Katy’s gut twisted. The air around her crackled with an unsettling energy. She grabbed Delpha’s wrist.

  “Don’t.”

  Delpha’s eyes swiveled sideways. “What.”

  “Don’t trick it like that.” Katy didn’t know where the words came from, but they tumbled out with conviction. Something about this just wasn’t right. Something about treating the shed like prey felt wrong, wrong, wrong.

  “Have you lost your dad-blasted mind?”

  Katybird’s forehead beaded with sweat. Her thoughts were catching up to her feelings, finding words for them. “Maybe you don’t have to break the spell. Pup”—she cleared her throat—“Puppet feels like a critter instead of a building now. It’s confused. What if it’s lonely?”

  Delpha rolled her eyes heavenward. “I swear on my great-granny’s whiskers, you are the aggravatin’ist human I ever—”

  Katy’s face grew hot, but she pressed on. “I don’t care what you think of me, Delpha McGill. You can act as ugly as you want, but I’m telling you—not askin’, TELLIN’ you—to treat that thing with a little respect.” Every hair on Katy’s body bristled, as inexplicable anger welled inside her. What’s gotten into me?

  Delpha drawled in a patronizing voice, “What, then, do you suggest we do, Katybird Hearn? Not only is Puppet hexed, it’s got a working wand inside it. And my family’s spellbook. I think the wand must be keeping Puppet animated.”

  “The book’s in there?” Katybird squeaked, eyes growing wide.

  Delpha glared at Katybird, nostrils twitching. She was right, Katy realized. They had to get Delpha’s spellbook out. How else would she stop Puppet?

  Katybird swallowed hard. “I’ve got an idea. You run on ahead, and when I give you the signal, you sneak up, easy-like, and get your things out of it. Then we can figure out what to do with Puppet.”

  “And what do you plan to do?” Delpha demanded. “You’ll forgive me if I’m not too keen on getting my head knocked clean off while you make friends with my shed.”

  “Puppet.” Katybird pointed at Puppet and pleaded. “Trust me? I have a sort of way with living things.”

  Delpha arched a dark eyebrow, as if to say, Oh really? Could’ve fooled me.

  Katy rolled her eyes. “Livin’ things that aren’t you. They like me.”

  Delpha gazed at her for a long, hard minute, then gave a tiny nod before stealing ahead into the trembling thicket. As soon as Delpha was out of earshot, Katybird called out soothingly to the shed. “You’re a long way from home, ain’t ya? That must be hard. You’ve been standin’ in place for all those many long years. Then some witchling comes along and tosses conjure stuff inside yer belly. Poor darlin’. There, now.”

  Puppet shuddered, and Katybird remembered the time she’d found Podge under the porch when he was an orphaned kit. In a soft voice, Katybird began singing Podge’s favorite country song as she approached, but Puppet didn’t seem to care for it. It creaked and squealed, moving to stand. Katy’s hand shot out and closed the space between them, gentling its wooden sides. The fiber was soft and weatherworn, almost like driftwood beneath her fingers.

  “I reckon you’ve been a shed for a long time, huh? What’s that been like?”

  An odd chill spread from Katybird’s limbs to her chest, and she stumbled back. She had an untethered sensation, like she was falling through space.

  In front of her, strange shadows flickered around Puppet. The building itself stood, locked in place, but there was another, more shadowy Puppet there now, too. It was like an echo from the past, bleeding into Katy’s present. The shadow sped in reverse, like a time-lapse movie. Dim figures in modern jeans, then overalls, then old-timey clothes went in and out of the shadow Puppet, until finally one un-nailed its shadow boards apart, then un-sawed them into a gigantic fallen tree, which un-chopped and erected itself into a massive oak with sprawling branches and deep roots. Green iridescent haze floated around the shadow tree, until at last it shrank to a tiny seedling. At the end, it vanished into glowing wisps of light. Katybird’s breaths came in short bursts, like she’d just been doused in ice water.

  “Katybird!” Delpha’s voice whisper-shouted from the woods ahead. “Stop dingin’ around!”

  Katy’s heart hammered, and she wiped cool tears where they’d collected on her chin. Delpha, apparently, hadn’t seen whatever had happened, just Katybird. She put a shaking palm against the shed. “Oh, Puppet,” she whispered. “This ain’t who you are. You’re a tree. You remember.” />
  She picked a different song, a song as old as the tree, and began to croon softly:

  “Oh, he led her over the mountains and the valleys so deep,

  Pretty Polly mistrusted and began to weep.”

  Puppet settled back on its stack-stones, and Katy motioned for Delpha to hurry. Delpha was there in a moment. She frowned and eased the outhouse door open with her boot. The stacked firewood lay in a messy pile on the floor. “Keep singing,” Delpha murmured. “It might take a minute to find the wand and the book under all this mess.” Firewood sailed out the door and into the weeds as Delpha picked her way through the jumble. Katy inhaled and continued, beginning to wish she’d picked a more cheerful song:

  “Willie, oh Willie, I’m afraid of your ways,

  The way you’ve been rambling you’ll lead me astray!”

  “Got the book,” Delpha called in a muffled voice.

  “Hand it out here. I’ll hold it.” Katy thrust her open hand through the doorway. There was a pause, and then something leather and surprisingly heavy filled her fingers. A satchel, with the book inside, no doubt.

  “I can outrun you, so don’t even think about takin’ off with it,” Delpha muttered, then gave a triumphant chuckle. “Hey, hey! And there’s the wand.” Delpha lifted a roughly carved and battered stick, then slid it behind her ear like a pencil. Instead of stepping right out, Delpha paused to brush wood dust and bits of bark from her clothes.

  Katybird pulled out the book and ran her fingers softly over the binding. No way in heaven or hell would Delpha McGill let her peek inside the spellbook, but Katy had to see it. Suddenly, she had a rare, wicked idea, one that took over her mind like jagged lightning steals a calm night sky. Nanny always said Katybird was like the girl from that one Longfellow poem: When she was good, she was very good indeed, but when she was bad, she was horrid.

  She leaned against the shed and whispered, “Sorry, Puppet.” Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she gave the outhouse an almighty slap on its behind.

  Puppet jumped to life and took off, barreling across the gully. Delpha fell backward into the shed, heels over head, then came up for air, cussing and beet red. Hanging on for dear life, she gripped Puppet’s doorframe and leaned out, her dark eyes flashing with murder. She knew exactly what Katybird was up to.

  “You … you CROOK! You’re gonna regret this, Katybird Hearn! If you open that book, we’re all done for! I’ll find you and rip your fool arm off and beat out what little bit o’ sense you’ve got with the bloody end of it! Then I’m gonna …” Her voice trailed off into a faint trickle of maledictions as Puppet disappeared into the dusky forest. Peace reclaimed the twilight.

  Katybird shivered from head to toe, partly from shock over what she’d just done, but also from excitement. A faded rainbow of sunset glowed on the horizon, transforming the trees into stark, accusing silhouettes. What had she done? Delpha would never forgive her now. Her frozen breath shot out in erratic puffs as the valley chilled for the night. Soon it would be too dark to read. Forget reading—soon it would be too dark to see.

  Staring into the distance, Katy whispered, “Sorry, Puppet.”

  She bit her lip.

  “Sorry, Delpha.”

  GRINDING HER TEETH ON HER WAND AS SHE AND Puppet whipped through the woods, Delpha tried to take stock of her predicament. Her book was gone. More than likely, Katybird was getting blown to smithereens back in the clearing, trying to mess with McGill magic—if she lived, Delpha would have to even that score later. Her most pressing concern was keeping her teeth from chattering clean out of her jaws. She swiveled and pressed her back against one wall, ramming her feet into the opposite corners, then took her wand from her mouth.

  Making up things on the spot was not Delpha’s way of doing things. Delpha preferred having a good plan—laid out crisp and smooth—and taking every precaution to prevent loose ends. She liked being on the tops of things, not rattled around like a bug in a jar. Her arm jerked wildly, making her wand flail like a baton in the hand of a drunken orchestra maestro. Stiffening her biceps, Delpha steadied her focus, then floundered for the right-sounding words:

  “Obey my voice ’n’ heed my will.

  Puppet made from wood, be still!”

  No good. If anything, Puppet redoubled its efforts to run clear to the coast in one night. Delpha was jarred loose from her wall, and she dropped her wand while scrabbling to remain upright. When she finally succeeded at planting a foot beneath her, it landed on her rolling wand, and she tumbled to the floor. Her head hit the wooden door with a resounding thwack, and everything went dark and fuzzy.

  As Delpha lost consciousness, so did Puppet. Tumbling over a flat, upright stone, the shed crashed onto its side and collapsed into a shattered pile of boards. The young witch inside was flung from its door like a rag doll onto a soft patch of early spring violets, her battered wand rolling to a stop at her fingertips.

  KATYBIRD DIDN’T EVEN WAIT UNTIL SHE GOT home. Her trembling fingers pried the cover of the McGill spellbook open right there in the woods. Ka-thunk, ka-thunk, said her heart. Katy licked her lips in anticipation, squinting in the lavender dusk.

  The first yellowing page was decorated with mysterious symbols in fading ink, in words that looked like they belonged in a Shakespeare play. A sketch of a hand with a cauldron on its palm embellished the top right corner.

  Leteth charm passeth from moth’r to daught’rs

  With the wisdom of the bless’d goddess Danu:

  The pow’r to sky the wat’rs deep

  And compass life to thought that in imagination creeps.

  Whatever that meant. Katybird shivered and tossed a guilty glance over her shoulder, feeling watched, before returning her attention to the stolen book. On the next page, she found a family tree of sorts, scrawled out by many different hands over the centuries.

  Cerridwen mam Fionnghuala, mam Ceinfryn, máthair of Brigh, máthair of Saoirse the Snake, moth’r of Laughing Maura, moth’r of Maeve, moth’r of Fiona, mother of Catroina the Crafty, mother of Aine the Dark, mother of Dizzy Delma, mother of Bronwyn, mother of Lottie the Immigrant, mama of Mattie the Weaver, mama to Lynnette, mother of Wizey, mother to Eudaimonia, mother of Sharp-Tack Mina, mother of sweet Kathleen, mama to Delpha.

  The final name had been penned recently with a felt-tipped marker. All women’s names, Katy noticed. Their magic, just like the Hearns’, was passed along the matriarchal line. All mothers of daughters—a cycle Katybird wouldn’t continue, even if she turned out to be magical. No children for Katybird, unless she wanted to adopt ’em someday. Katy shook out her shoulders and flipped to the first spell.

  The “Findeth Thy Way Home” charm seemed straightforward: Run a twig through your hair, then float it on any water’s surface while muttering some binding words. Then a golden strand of light would lead Katybird home. Easy peasy.

  After locating a suitable puddle, Katy stumbled through the incantation. She got all the way to the line “wat’r moth’r, pointeth mine feet toward the placeth wh’re I hangeth mine coxcomb and cloak” when the floating stick began to spin around like a top, and the puddle bubbled and steamed. A bit too late, Delpha’s voice drawled from a murky part of Katy’s memory: McGill magic don’t match your magic.

  A jet of filthy water nailed her right between the eyes. Katy gasped. Her skin began to crawl and ooze, and the world shifted shape around her. The puddle swelled to a lake, and the twig grew as big as a newly felled log. Katy opened her mouth to scream bloody murder, but all that came out was a belligerent-sounding CRRRRRROAK.

  Besides being an oversized world, there seemed to be more of it, too—Katybird could see in nearly every direction with her bulbous eyes. Some azalea bushes behind her rustled, and out popped a familiar gray-and-black animal. Part of Katy’s mind was awash with delight at the sight of Podge, but her newer, froggier half hollered in panic, “JUMP AWAY! PREDATOR!!”

  Before she could escape, a grubby human hand scooped her up. A pair of
thoughtful, gray eyes examined her with interest. Caleb! Had he followed Katybird all this way through the woods? Katy croaked and tried signing to her brother, but only managed a clumsy dance across his palm. Caleb’s eyebrows furrowed. He sat and nudged Katybird onto his knee to free his hands. “Katybird, why are you a frog?” he signed. “Mama will be really mad.”

  Katy blinked one eyelid in response.

  Caleb whimpered. “I brought Podge, but I’m scared. Can we go home? My butt’s cold.” His massive eyes welled with tears, and his bottom lip trembled. Katy felt terrible and wished she could scoop him into her arms. Unfortunately, human arms weren’t among her assets just then.

  A bug zapper glowed from a cabin porch through the trees. A cabin meant a safe place for them to shelter, at least until Katy could manage to turn herself back into a human.

  Springing from Caleb’s knee, Katy leaped toward the glowing blue light. This way, this way, this way, she thought with every jump, keeping her frog brain on task. Caleb tucked Delpha’s book and satchel under one arm and began running after her. His footsteps shook the ground beneath Katy’s webbed feet, and she half expected to be crushed at any moment. Instead, he caught her mid-leap with his free hand and kept running. To Katy’s enormous relief, he didn’t stuff her into his pocket, as he had with several unfortunate frogs in the past.

  As Caleb climbed the wooden steps, Katybird’s human thoughts mingled with a flurry of animal instincts. Bugs she’d normally shriek at suddenly looked as tempting as an order of french fries. Caleb pounded on the door, and some ghost of her human synapses warned against the urge to hide in the souring mulch of a potted fern.

  The door swung wide, and a kindly, weathered face peered down at Katybird. It was Aunt Eunice, the old preacher’s widow from the tiny Methodist church—though, far as Katy knew, Eunice wasn’t actually anyone’s aunt.

  HELP! The word came out as a pitiful croak. The elderly woman glanced from the frog in Caleb’s left hand to his frantically signing right one. “Sister, sister, sister!” Aunt Eunice dedicated a long, hard stare to the leather book under Caleb’s arm.