"Six... seven..."
Down the stairs she clattered. At the bottom was a door with a night lock and a chain. Working furiously, yet never letting the ring out of her hand for a second, Rose Rita undid the locks and chains and bolts.
"Ten!" There was a loud crash and a babble of voices shouting. In the middle of it all Rose Rita heard Aggie yelling "Rose Rita! Are you all right?" Rose Rita hesitated. She glanced waveringly toward the front of the store, where all the noise was coming from. Then her face hardened, and she gripped the ring tighter. Rose Rita turned and ran, out past the toolshed and the clothesline, toward the dark mass of trees that grew right up to the edge of Gert Bigger's back yard. The shadow of the pines seemed to reach out and swallow her up.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Rose Rita ran through the woods, her feet slapping the ground under her. Bits and pieces of scenery jolted past, branches and stumps, and fungi laddering tall dark trunks. She ran on a crooked path covered with brown pine needles, a path that wound deeper and deeper into the woods. Sometimes she fell or barked her shins on a stump, but each time she got up and kept on running. Faster and faster she ran. Branches whipped across her face and arms, leaving angry red marks, but the pain of the cuts just made her run faster. As she ran, her mind was filled with a wild jumble of thoughts. Images leaped before her, like flashes of lightning. Rose Rita saw them as clearly as if they had been printed on the air. She saw the boy with the crew cut who had yelled, "You're a pretty funny kind of a girl!" She saw the girls standing on the sidelines at the Saturday night dance. She saw the black prison-like junior high building where she had to go next fall. She saw girls in flouncy dresses, girls who wore nylons and lipstick and mascara, asking her, "What's the matter with you? Don't you want to go on dates? Dating is fun!"
As Rose Rita ran, she thought she could hear someone behind her, calling her name. The voice was faint and far-off, but she was sure she had heard it call to her once or twice. No, Rose Rita panted. You're not gonna get me. I've had about enough, I've had about enough, and I'm gonna get what I want...
On and on Rose Rita ran, pell-mell, through the dark pine forest. She left the path behind and half slid, half ran down a steep bank. The bank was covered with pine needles, and pine needles are slippery. She lost her footing and tumbled, head over heels. Over and over she rolled. When she got to the bottom, dazed and sick and shaken, the first thing she did was make sure that she had the ring with her. There it was, still clutched tight in her fist. Rose Rita opened her hand only long enough to make sure the ring was safe. Then she closed her fist tight, staggered to her feet, and started running again. There was something inside her head that kept driving her on, something relentless and mechanical, like a piston.
Go on, go on, it said. Keep going, keep going, keep going, keep going...
Rose Rita splashed across a shallow little stream and started to climb the bank on the other side. But the bank was steep, and it was hard climbing with one hand doubled up into a fist. Rose Rita paused, panting, halfway up. Why not put the ring on? She opened her hand and gaped stupidly at the small heavy object. It was too big—it would fall off her finger. How about putting it in her pocket? No, there might be a hole in the pocket. It might get lost. She had to know, all the time, that it was there. Rose Rita closed up her fist and climbed on, one-handed. She was a good climber, and there were roots here and there that could be used like the rungs of a ladder. Up she went. When she got to the top she paused to catch her breath.
"Rose Rita! Rose Rita! Stop!"
Rose Rita whirled. Who was that? It was a voice she knew. She was on the point of turning back when that driving piston in her head started up again. Go on, go on, go on, let's go, let's go, let's go. Rose Rita glared back across the stream. There was wild insane anger in her eyes now. "Come and get me!" she snarled through her teeth. Then she turned and ran on.
On into the forest Rose Rita plunged. But now her legs were starting to give out. They felt like rubber. Lying under that spell on Gert Bigger's bed had weakened her, the way a long illness would have. Her side hurt, and when she tried to catch her breath, watery bubbles kept bursting in her mouth. She was wringing wet with sweat, and her glasses were fogged up. Rose Rita wanted to stop, but the driving piston wouldn't let her. It forced her on until, finally, she reeled out into a little clearing. Rose Rita fell to her knees and looked around. Where was she? What was she doing? Oh, yes, she was going to... she was going... to... The world was starting to spin around her. Dark trees and starlit sky and gray grass whizzed past, like the things you see out of a car window when you're going very fast. Rose Rita fell down on her back and passed out.
The first thing that Rose Rita saw when she woke up, some time later, was a small cold pale moon shining down on her. She sat up and shook her head. All around her the dark trees stood, a ring of shadows cutting off escape. But she didn't want to escape, did she? No. She had come here to do something, but she couldn't for the life of her remember what it was. Rose Rita felt a pain in her left hand. She picked her fist up off the grass and stared at it as if it was something that belonged to somebody else. Slowly she opened her stiff cramped painful fingers. In her palm lay a large battered ring. She had been holding it so long, and so tight, that it had dug a deep red welt into her hand.
Wincing, Rose Rita turned the ring over with her fingers. It was made of gold—at least it seemed to be. And it was a signet ring. There was a design cut into the flat surface on the top. A face. A staring face with blank eyeballs and lips curled into a cold evil smile. Rose Rita was fascinated by the face. It seemed so lifelike. She half expected to see the lips part and to hear a voice speak.
And then she remembered why she was here.
Rose Rita stood up, swaying, in the gray moonlit clearing. She slid the ring onto the third finger of her left hand and held it there so it wouldn't fall off. Rose Rita gasped. The ring had shrunk to fit her hand! But she had no time to think of these things. A voice was in her head, telling her what to do. She clapped three times in weak imitation of Mrs. Bigger and said, in as loud a voice as she could manage, "I... I call upon As... Asmodai! Come to me! Now!"
A shadow fell across the gray starlit grass. And Rose Rita heard the harsh whispery voice that she had heard in Gert Bigger's room.
"I am called Asmodai. What do you want?"
Rose Rita shivered. She felt cold and frightened and alone. She wanted to rip the ring from her hand and throw it away. But she couldn't. An insistent angry voice, her own voice inside her head, went on talking. It told her what she had to do. It told her that she had to change, that she could solve all her problems now if only she had the courage. It also told her that she would only have this one chance, and that she'd never get another.
The whispery voice spoke again. It sounded faintly impatient. "I am called Asmodai. What do you want? You are the wielder of the ring of Solomon. What do you want?"
"I... I want... what I want to do is... what I want is..."
"Rose Rita, stop! Stop what you're doing and look at me!"
Rose Rita turned. There at the edge of the clearing stood Mrs. Zimmermann. The folds of her dress were filled with orange fire, and her homely wrinkled face was lit by the light of invisible footlights. A purple halo hovered about her, and its light fell upon the gray grass.
"Stop, Rose Rita! Stop what you're doing and listen to me!"
Rose Rita hesitated. She took the ring between her thumb and finger and started to take it off. It was on tight, but it could be moved. Now the voice in Rose Rita's head got louder. It told her not to listen to Mrs. Zimmermann. It told her that she had the right to be happy, to do what she wanted to do.
Rose Rita swallowed hard and licked her lips. She turned toward the shadow that waited, hovering, nearby. "I... I want to be a..."
Mrs. Zimmermann spoke again in a loud echoing commanding voice that seemed to fill the whole clearing. "I command you, Rose Rita, to give me that ring! Give it to me now!"
Rose Rita
stood, hesitating. Her eyes were wide with fear. Then, like a sleepwalker, she turned and walked toward Mrs. Zimmermann. As she walked, she began working the ring loose from her finger. Up it slid, painfully, from one joint to the next. It was off now and lying in the palm of her right hand. Mrs. Zimmermann reached out and took it. She glanced at it scornfully and slipped it into the pocket of her dress. The halo faded and the footlights died. The folds of Mrs. Zimmermann's dress were just black creases now.
"Hi, Rose Rita," said Mrs. Zimmermann, smiling. "Long time no see."
Rose Rita looked nervously behind her, but the shadow was gone. Then she collapsed into Mrs. Zimmermann's arms and sobbed. Her whole body shook, and as she cried, she felt as if she were getting something poisonous and putrid out of her system. When she had cried herself out, Rose Rita stepped back and looked at Mrs. Zimmermann. Her face was pale and drawn, but her eyes were cheerful. She looked and talked like herself.
"What... what happened to you, Mrs. Zimmermann?" was all Rose Rita could think of to say.
Mrs. Zimmermann laughed softly. "I might ask you the same question, my dear. By the way, were you scared of me when I showed up just now?"
"I sure was. I was afraid you'd wave your wand and... hey!" Suddenly Rose Rita remembered. Mrs. Zimmermann's wand had been destroyed, and she had not made another. She was next-door to powerless as a witch. Then how...?
Mrs. Zimmermann could tell what Rose Rita was thinking. She laughed again. It was a pleasant sound, and nothing like Gert Bigger's insane giggle. "Rose Rita," she said, chuckling, "you have been flimflammed. I bluffed you. You see, I can still make myself look pretty darned terrifying, with footlights and haloes and all, but if you had chosen to go on with what you were doing, I wouldn't have been able to do a thing to stop you. Not a blessed thing."
Rose Rita stared at the ground. "I'm glad you bluffed me, Mrs. Zimmermann. I almost did something awful. But... but what happened to you? The other night, I mean. Where did you come from just now?"
"From the chicken yard," said Mrs. Zimmermann, smiling wryly. "Haven't you guessed by now?"
Rose Rita's mouth dropped open. "You mean... you mean you were...?"
Mrs. Zimmermann nodded. "Uh-huh. And I'll never be able to look a plate of chicken salad in the face again, as long as I live. Gertie did that to me with the ring. But in order for me to have been brought back to my proper shape, something must have happened to her. Do you know what it was?"
Rose Rita was utterly confused. "I... I thought maybe you had figured out some way to break the spell she put on you. Isn't that what you did?"
Mrs. Zimmermann shook her head. "No, my dear. Even in the days when I had my magic wand, I would not have been strong enough to defeat someone who had a ring like that one. No, Rose Rita. All I know is this: one minute I was behind that fence, leading my, uh..." (she coughed) "...my, uh, chickeny life, and the next minute, I was standing there like my old self. Something must have happened. Maybe you can tell me what."
Rose Rita scratched her head. "You got me, Mrs. Zimmermann. Mrs. Bigger was gonna kill me with a spell, but in the middle of it all, she disappeared. She was gonna use the ring to call on... to call on..." It was strange, but now that she didn't have the ring on her finger anymore, Rose Rita couldn't remember the name of the devil that Mrs. Bigger had called on.
"Asmodai?" said Mrs. Zimmermann.
"Gee. That's it. How'd you know?"
"I didn't get a doctorate in Magic Arts from the University of Goettingen for nothing. Go on."
"Well, she called on whatsisname, and she said she wanted to be young and beautiful and live for... for a thousand years, I think it was. Anyway, she disappeared, so I figure the magic must have worked. But I guess she didn't know there'd be an earthquake along with all the rest of the presto-chango. The coins slid off my eyes, and that's how I got loose."
"Lucky for you," said Mrs. Zimmermann. "I'm sure old Gertie didn't count on that happening. And there may have been some other things she wasn't counting on."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"I'm not sure what I mean, just yet. Right now, however, I think we'd better be getting back to the store. When I ducked out of the chicken yard, there was an incredible ruckus going on inside the store. It sounded like they were turning the place inside out. But I figured you needed me more than they did. I just barely caught sight of you as you were hightailing it for the woods. I'm an old woman, and I can't run very fast, so you got ahead of me. But I didn't have any trouble following you. You left quite a trail in the underbrush. And anyway, I was a girl scout leader back in the old days. Come on."
As it was, Rose Rita and Mrs. Zimmermann didn't have much trouble finding their way back to the store. They followed the swath of trampled grass and broken branches and muddy footprints back to the little path, and from there on it was easy.
Later the two of them were trotting briskly along the needle-strewn path when all of a sudden Mrs. Zimmermann said, "Look!" She pointed off to the left, and there Rose Rita saw a young slender willow tree. It stood, all alone, amid tall pines.
"Look at what?" said Rose Rita, puzzled.
"That willow."
"Oh yeah. It's just a tree. What about it?"
"What about it? Well, for one thing, you don't usually see willows all by themselves in the middle of pine forests. You find them in willow groves, by the banks of rivers and lakes and streams. And there's something else wrong. Its leaves are trembling. Can you feel any wind?"
"Nope. Gee, that is weird. Do you think maybe it's blowing over there, but not here?"
Mrs. Zimmermann rubbed her chin. "Tell me, Rose Rita," she said suddenly. "Can you remember the exact words Mrs. Bigger used? When she got herself changed, I mean."
Rose Rita thought. "Gee, I don't think I can. Something about being young and beautiful and living a long time, like I said before."
"That tree is young, and it certainly is beautiful," said Mrs. Zimmermann quietly. "As for how long it will live, I really couldn't say."
Rose Rita looked at the tree, and then she looked at Mrs. Zimmermann. "You mean... you mean you think..."
"Like I said before, I don't know what I think. That is, I'm not sure. But something had to happen to return me to my present shape. If a witch is changed into something else—a tree, for instance—she isn't a witch any longer, and all her enchantments are broken. Come on, Rose Rita. Time's a-wasting. We'd better get back."
It was fully daylight when Rose Rita and Mrs. Zimmermann stepped out into the clearing behind Gert Bigger's store. They walked around to the front and found Aggie Sipes and her mother standing there. They were watching the two policemen, who, in turn, were staring at some things that lay piled on the front steps of the store. It was quite an odd collection. A funeral pall, a big wooden cross, some brown beeswax candles, a tarnished silver censer, a gilded incense boat, and an aspergillum—otherwise known as a holy water sprinkler. There was a big pile of books, too. Among them was the book that Rose Rita had found on Gert Bigger's bedside table.
As soon as Aggie caught sight of Rose Rita coming around the corner of the store, she gave a wild yell and ran toward her.
"Rose Rita, you're okay! Gee, I thought you were dead! Wow! Hooray! Whee!" Aggie hugged Rose Rita and jumped up and down. Mrs. Sipes came over too. There was a big smile on her face.
"Are you Mrs. Zimmermann?" she asked.
"I am," said Mrs. Zimmermann. The two women shook hands.
The two policemen walked over and joined the welcoming committee. They looked suspicious, as policemen often do. One of them had a note pad and a pencil in his hand.
"Okay," he said brusquely. "Are you the Mrs. Zigfield that got lost last night?"
"Yes. Zimmermann's the name, by the way. Please excuse my appearance, but I've been through quite a lot." Mrs. Zimmermann did indeed look as if she had spent the last two nights in the woods. Her dress was tattered and torn and had burrs all over it. Her shoes were wet and muddy, and her hair was a mess. Th
ere was pine pitch all over her hands and her face.
"Yeah," said Rose Rita. "We... we uh..." She realized with a sudden shock that she couldn't tell these people what had happened. Not and expect to be believed, that is.
"We, ah, had quite an experience, the two of us," Mrs. Zimmermann cut in quickly. "You see, I went walking out behind the Gunderson farm night before last, and I got lost in the woods. I know you'll think I was daffy for going out in the rain like that, but the fact is, I like walking in the rain. I love the sound of rain hitting the fabric of an umbrella—it's sort of a cozy sound, like rain on a tent roof. I hadn't intended to walk very far, but before I knew it, there I was, off the path and lost. Then, to make matters worse, the wind started blowing up a gale, and it blew my umbrella inside out, so I had to throw it away. Too bad too, because it was such a nice umbrella. But as I was saying, I got lost, and I've been wandering about for two days. Luckily I studied botany in college, and I know a little about what herbs and berries are safe to eat. So I'm a bit worn out, but otherwise okay, I think. Just by chance I ran into Rose Rita, and she guided me back to civilization. And from what she tells me, she's had quite a horrifying experience herself. It seems that the old lady who runs this store had her bound and gagged and locked in a closet. Then she gave her some drug and took her out into the woods and left her to starve. Fortunately Rose Rita knows a little woodcraft, and she was on her way back when she met me. Also," she added, reaching into her pocket, "we found this out in the woods, and when it got light, we were able to use it to help us find our way back."
It was Aggie's boy scout knife! The knife with the compass in the handle. Mrs. Zimmermann had found it where Aggie dropped it in Gert Bigger's back yard.
Rose Rita stared at Mrs. Zimmermann in pure admiration. She had told some good lies in the past, but never any quite as good as this one of Mrs. Zimmermann's. But then Rose Rita remembered Aggie. She knew the real story of how Mrs. Zimmermann had disappeared. And she knew about the knife, since she was the one who had dropped it. Would she spill the beans? Rose Rita glanced nervously at her and saw, to her surprise and irritation, that Aggie was trying hard to suppress a giggle. It was the first time Rose Rita had ever seen Aggie laugh.
The Letter, the Witch, and the Ring Page 11