The Letter, the Witch, and the Ring

by John Bellairs

  There was a light switch just inside the door. Rose Rita's hand moved toward it, but then she stopped. Would it be a bad thing to turn the light on? She glanced toward the window. It was the only one in the room, the window she had tried to reach by climbing the trellis. The window looked out on the dark mass of trees behind the store. Gert Bigger was miles away. If I turn on the light, Rose Rita thought, people will just figure it's old Gertie up here counting her money. She snapped the switch and started looking around.

  It was a very ordinary room. The only thing odd about it was its lived-in look, but it occurred to Rose Rita that maybe Gert Bigger stayed here during the winter, on nights when the weather was so bad that it was impossible to drive home. In one corner stood a small iron bed. It was painted green, and the wrought iron posies on the bars of the headboard were touched up in pink. Nearby was a closet without any door. Ordinary ladies' dresses hung on the rack, and wadded nylons lay on the floor near a heavy-looking pair of black ladies' shoes. There was a shelf in the closet, and something like a blanket lay folded up on it. Nothing unusual here.

  Rose Rita walked across the room and examined the dresser. There was a mirror on top of it, and in front of the mirror was a collection of bottles and jars. Jergen's lotion, Noxzema, Pond's lotion, and a big blue bottle of Evening in Paris perfume. On the white linen runner lay tweezers and combs and brushes, and bits of tissue paper, and little curls of dark brown hair. There was a box of Kleenex, too.

  Rose Rita turned and gazed around the room. Was there anything else here? There was. On a low table next to the bed was a large book. A big heavy book with a tooled leather cover. The pages were edged with gilt, and there were fussy gilded decorations on the spine and on the cover. A soiled red marker was sticking out of the book.

  Rose Rita could hear her heart beating. She swallowed hard. Could this be it? She went closer, and opened the heavy front cover. Her face fell. It wasn't the book she wanted. It was something called A Cyclopaedia of Jewish Antiquities, by the Reverend Merriwether Burchard, D.D., Litt.D. Well, at least it was a book of some sort. Rose Rita started leafing through it.

  The book was printed in double columns of tiny black print, and it was full of dark mysterious engravings. According to the captions, the pictures showed The Temple of Solomon, the Ark of the Covenant, the Brazen Laver, the Seven-Branched Candlestick, and things like that. Rose Rita knew what some of the things in the pictures were. There were engravings like these in her grandmother's family Bible. Rose Rita yawned. It looked like a pretty boring book. She looked around and sighed. This certainly wasn't any witch's den. Maybe she was wrong about Gert Bigger being a witch. Rose Rita realized, with a sinking heart, that her witch theory was based on a lot of guesswork. Mrs. Bigger might have had a picture of Mordecai Hunks on her wall, but what did that prove? As for the photo Mrs. Zimmermann had found, it might all have been just a coincidence. As for the strange drawing and Mrs. Bigger's odd reading habits, well, she might just be one of those people who want to be a witch. Mrs. Zimmermann had told Rose Rita once that there were lots of people who would love to have magical powers, although there wasn't chance in a million that they would ever get them. People like that would read magic books in hopes of getting to be magicians, wouldn't they? Well, wouldn't they?

  Rose Rita began to wonder if she hadn't made a terrible mistake. Some strange things had happened to her and Mrs. Zimmermann, but that didn't mean that old Mrs. Bigger had made them happen. She picked up her flashlight off the bed and was about to go downstairs when she heard a noise. A faint scratching at the door of the bedroom.

  Terror gripped Rose Rita for an instant, and then she remembered something that made her laugh. Mrs. Bigger had a dog. A small black dog. Probably she had locked it in the store for the night.

  With a sigh of relief, Rose Rita opened the door. It was the dog, all right. It trotted across the room and hopped up on the bed. Rose Rita smiled and turned toward the door. But she stopped again, because the dog had made a very odd sound. A sound very much like a human being coughing. Animals sometimes make human sounds. The cries of cats are, on certain occasions, just like a baby's wails. Rose Rita knew that, but still the sound made her stop. The hair on the back of her neck stood up on end. She turned slowly around. There on the bed sat Gert Bigger. Her hard brutal mouth was set in the evilest of smiles.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Rose Rita lay in darkness. She felt a slight pressure on her eyes and knew that there was something covering them, but she didn't know what it was. She would have reached up to uncover her eyes, but she couldn't. Her hands were crossed on her breast, and though she could feel them, she couldn't move them. She couldn't move any part of her body, nor could she speak, but she could hear, and she could feel. As she lay there, a fly—it felt like a fly—landed on her forehead and walked the length of her nose before buzzing away.

  Where was she? Probably in the bedroom above Gert Bigger's store. It felt as if she was lying on a bed, anyway. And there was a blanket, or something like a blanket, drawn up over her body. It felt heavy, and the room was hot and still. Tiny rivulets of sweat ran down Rose Rita's body. Why couldn't she move? Was she paralyzed, or what? There came back to her now, like a bad dream, the terror she had felt when she saw Gert Bigger sitting on the bed, leering at her. She must have fainted then, because she could not remember anything after that.

  Rose Rita heard a lock click. A door creaked open. Heavy footfalls crossed the room and stopped next to her head. A chair creaked.

  "Well, well, well. And how are you, Miss Nosy? Hmmm? Not speaking to me? That's not nice. You know, I'm the one who ought to be insulted, the way you broke in here and rummaged around. Were you tryin' to find out if I was a witch? Well, you can relax. I am."

  Gert Bigger laughed, and it was not at all the kind of laugh that you would expect to come out of a big husky woman like her. It was a high-pitched tinny giggle. Rose Rita thought it sounded like the laughter of a crazy person.

  "Yes, sirree," Gert Bigger went on, "it all started when that old fool of a Gunderson dropped in here one night. He was half-crocked, and he started talkin' about this magic ring he had found on his farm. Well, at first I thought he was just foolin', but I got to thinkin' later—what if it's the truth? You see, I've always wanted to be able to work magic. I've studied up on it a lot. Well, after old Oley kicked off, I broke into his place and hunted around till I found the darned thing. It's on my finger right now. Did you read in that book what that fella Burchard said about it? It's all true, you know, every word. Here, let me read it to you."

  Rose Rita heard the sound of fingers riffling through the pages of a book. "Here it is, where I stuck the marker. You must've seen it when you were pokin' around, though sometimes you nosy types don't see what's right under your nose." She giggled again. "Ready? Here it is. '...No account of Jewish antiquities would be complete without mention of the legendary ring of King Solomon. According to the great historian Flavius Josephus, King Solomon possessed a magic ring that enabled him to do many wonderful things. The ring gave him the power of teleportation, that is, the ability to be whisked from place to place, unseen. It conferred upon him the powers of sorcery and divination, and enabled him to humiliate his enemies by changing them into lowly beasts. In this manner, it is said, King Solomon brought low the king of the Hittites, when he turned him into an ox. The ring also enabled Solomon to change his own shape at will—his most favored form is said to have been that of a small black dog, in which shape he prowled about, spying on his enemies and finding out many secrets. But the greatest power of the ring was one which Solomon, wisest of men, never chose to use. The ring could, if the wearer desired it, give long life and great beauty. To obtain this gift, however, the wearer was obliged to call upon the demon Asmodai. It may be for this reason that Solomon refused to exercise this power of the ring. For, we are told, he who sups with the Devil...' "

  The book slammed shut. "That's enough of you, Reverend," muttered Gert Bigger. "Well, t
here you are, Miss Nosy. Isn't that interestin'? But I'll tell you what is most interestin' of all. You came here at just the right time, you really did. I was goin' to do somethin' to you when I caught you pokin' around in my back room, but later, I says to myself, I says, 'She'll be back!' And you did come back, you did, you did!" Gert Bigger let out a peal of shrill laughter.

  "I left the padlock off of my cellar door, and you went right in, like the little fool that you are. Well, you're gonna find out what it's like to monkey around with witches. Florence found out, and I'm not through with her yet, not by a long shot." She paused and made an unpleasant spitting sound. "Phah! Oh, didn't I know, didn't I know what she was up to when she showed up here, pretendin' she was out of gas! I knew about her and all that magic monkey-do of hers, that college degree and all, and I says to myself, 'She's after the ring!' I was real worried then, because I didn't know how to handle the ring proper, cept'n for the black-dog trick. Well, after you folks went up north, I learned. I sent that photograft up there, and that was me you saw in Florence's room. I showed up in the back seat o' your car for a coupla seconds too. Scared the dickens out o'you, didn't I?" She laughed shrilly. Then, after another pause, she continued, in a grimmer tone, "Well, fun's fun, but I'm through playin' around. I've got Florence, and I'm gonna fix her good, so she'll never be able to get my ring from me, not ever!

  "A course," she added, "I've got a special grudge against her for makin' my life miserable. If me'n Mordy had got married, my life would've been better. The old fool that I was married to used to beat me up. You don't know what it was like. You don't know at all." Gert Bigger's voice cracked. Was she crying? Rose Rita couldn't tell.

  Gert Bigger rambled on, in her hard angry voice. She explained to Rose Rita that she had put her under a death spell. When dawn came, she would die. They would find her body here surrounded by the paraphernalia of Gert Bigger's magic. But Gert Bigger would be gone. In fact there would be no Gert Bigger, because she would be a young beautiful woman. She had it all figured out: she would go away to another place and change her name. She had drawn all her money out of the bank—it was in the safe downstairs. With a new name and a new life she could start making up for all the rotten things that had happened to her. And before she left, she would settle accounts with Florence Zimmermann, for good and for all.

  After she had finished talking, Gert Bigger left the room and locked the door. Rose Rita stared hopelessly into the darkness that lay around her. She thought about Aggie. Aggie was her only hope. Rose Rita had no idea how much time had gone by since she left Aggie standing outside the cellar door. She hoped that Gert Bigger hadn't captured Aggie too. Rose Rita prayed, though her mouth stayed shut and no sound came out. Please, God, help Aggie to find me. Make her get help before it's too late. Please God please...

  A long time passed. At least it seemed like a long time, though Rose Rita had no way of telling how long it was. Her wristwatch was still on her wrist, ticking, but it did her no good. How would she know when it was dawn? She would know when she was dead. Tick-tick-tick-tick. Rose Rita could feel her body growing numb. She couldn't feel her hands on her breast any more. She had a horrible vision of herself as a severed head lying on a pillow. It was such an awful thought that she tried to get rid of it, but it kept coming back. Please, God, send Aggie, send somebody. Tick-tick-tick-tick...

  Brr-rrr-rrring. A doorbell was ringing. It rang several times, and then Rose Rita heard the muffled tinkling of the little bell above the door of the store. She heard nothing after that—if people were talking, she couldn't hear them. Silence. More time passed. Then Rose Rita heard the lock on the bedroom door click. Footsteps, and the creak of a chair as somebody heavy sat down.

  "My lord, it takes all kinds to make a world!" said Gert Bigger. "Who do you suppose I've just been talkin' to? Guess. Give up? Mrs. Sipes, who lives down the road. Her and her daughter... Aggie I think is her name. They were all wrought up because Aggie said I kidnaped you. Imagine that!" Gert Bigger giggled. "They had even brought a cop along with 'em to search the place. Well, I know my rights. He didn't have no search warrant, and I told him so. I says to him, I know my rights and you can't come in, and no, I don't know nothin' about no little girl! So there! Imagine the nerve of 'em, comin' here like that!" Gert Bigger laughed again. The chair creaked as she rocked back and forth, laughing. The tiny flame of hope in Rose Rita's mind flickered out. She was going to die, and there was nothing that anyone could do about it.

  Gert Bigger left the room, and there was another long dark silence. Rose Rita kept hearing little sounds, but she couldn't figure out what they were. Finally the door creaked open again, and she heard Gert Bigger walking around the room. She was humming to herself, and there was a sound of drawers opening and shutting. She was packing up, getting ready to leave. After what seemed like a long time, Rose Rita heard the latches of a suitcase snap shut. Gert Bigger walked over to her chair by the head of the bed and sat down again.

  "How're you doin'? Hmm? Feel anything yet? This spell comes over you gradual-like, or so I'm told. But it won't be over with till dawn, and that's still a ways off yet. Okay now. I'm all ready to go. I haven't taken care of Florence yet, but I think I'll do that on my way out. I want her to see what I'm like after I've been changed. And you know what? Seeing as how you've been so nice and quiet, I'm gonna let you watch me do my little quick-change act. Well, uh, of course I'm kiddin' in a way, because I really can't let you see me. I'd have to take those things off of your eyes, and that would break the spell, and we can't have that, can we? No sir-ree. But I tell you what I'll do. I'll sit right here in this chair and summon up old Asmodai, and you can hear his voice. How'll that be? Let me see now, what is it that I do? Oh yes..."

  Gert Bigger clapped her hands three times and said in a loud commanding voice, "Send Asmodai to me! Now!"

  At first nothing happened. Then, slowly, Rose Rita began to feel the presence of something evil. Feeling returned to her body. Her flesh was covered with goose bumps, and she felt cold. The air grew thick, and it was hard to breathe. Out of the darkness a harsh whispery voice spoke.

  "Who calls upon Asmodai?"

  "I do. I am wearing the ring of King Solomon, and I want to be changed. I want to be young and beautiful, and I want to live for a thousand years." Gert added quickly, "But I don't want to get old. I want to stay young, all the time."

  "So be it," said the whispery voice.

  As soon as the whispery voice had finished speaking, Rose Rita heard a small sound. It was a sound like somebody dropping a quarter on the floor. Then there was a sound like a strong wind roaring through the room. The room trembled, as if the ground underneath the building was quaking. Rose Rita heard all sorts of rattling clattering sounds. The bed shook, and whatever had been on her eyes slid off. She sat up and shook her head groggily. Rose Rita looked around. Where were her glasses? What had Gert Bigger done with them? She groped around on the nightstand and found them. She put them on and glanced around. Gert Bigger was gone. She had not heard her go out, and the key was sticking out of the inside of the door. On the bed next to her, Rose Rita saw two silver dollars. They must have been the things over her eyes. And she found that she was lying under a heavy black woolen blanket. It had a white border and a big white cross on it. Rose Rita knew what it was. She had been to a funeral at the Catholic church in New Zebedee, and she had seen a casket covered with a blanket just like this one. With a violent shudder she thrust the thing away from her and sat up.

  Rose Rita felt sick. She felt like somebody who has been in bed with the flu for two weeks. When she tried to stand up, she sat down again suddenly. Sweat was pouring down her face. As she gazed woozily around the room, it occurred to her to wonder just what had happened to Mrs. Bigger. Probably she had had her wish granted, and she was out in Hollywood, living it up with Lana Turner and Esther Williams and all that crowd. Rose Rita didn't know, and she didn't care. She felt dizzy, and she couldn't stop shuddering. Her head was as light as a wic
ker basket. Finally, with an effort, she forced herself to stand up. Now she remembered something, something that had puzzled her. That sound, like a coin hitting the floor. What was it? Rose Rita got down on her hands and knees and looked under the bed. And at that moment she heard, from downstairs, a terrific pounding and banging. The doorbell rang about eight times, and a muffled voice yelled, "Open up! Open up in the name of the law!" They were back! Aggie and her mom and the cops! Rose Rita glanced toward the door. What if Mrs. Bigger had left her ring behind? Wouldn't it be great to be able to run downstairs to meet Aggie with the ring of King Solomon in her fist? Rose Rita bent over and scrabbled in the dust under the bed. There it was! She reached out and hooked the ring with her finger. Now she drew the ring to her and closed her fist around it.

  And with that something happened. A shudder ran through Rose Rita's body, and she felt... well, strange. She felt proud and bitter and angry, angry at the people who had come to drag her back to her old life.

  "Okay, Mrs. Bigger," the voice boomed. "We're gonna give you a count of ten before we break the door down! One..."

  Rose Rita got up and glared fiercely at the door. The expression on her face was so hateful that she hardly looked like herself at all. A wild light was in her eyes. So they were coming to get her! Well, they'd have to catch her first. She rushed to the door and unlocked it. With the ring still clutched tight in her fist, Rose Rita dashed out into the hall. At the far end of the hall was a half-opened door, and she could see stairs leading down. It wasn't the staircase she had come up by, it was another one, leading to the back of the building. Rose Rita ran toward it.