"What about the house?" Carmen asked. "Halloween House?"
Peter considered this, but he shook his head. "I found the courage to go up there once after the incident, but it's just a burned-out husk. Nothing left, really. I'm not convinced anymore that she's tied to a location, but the children are." He twisted the timothy-grass in his fingers. "Perhaps wherever this originated from is where they are being kept."
"Do you know where it grows?" Carmen asked. "I've been trying to figure out where I remember seeing it, but I'm drawing a blank."
"Sorry," he said. "I'm not sure."
"How do you know so much about the witch, mister?" Tommy asked.
As Peter considered him, they both saw the age and wear in his eyes and on his face. It told half of the story by itself. "I was a boy not much older than you when I first ran into her," he explained. "I was playing with some friends out in the woods and I got separated from them. I saw her house at the top of the hill, though we never called it Halloween House back then. All we knew was that an old, crazy woman lived there. Hardly anyone ever saw her even back then, but she was still just as old and haggard as she was three years ago, like she doesn't age."
Tommy gulped again.
A squirrel rummaged around the yard outside Peter's living room window, then it climbed up to the windowsill, peering through the glass at the three of them as they talked. None of them noticed the small animal, but it sat and watched, its eyes unblinking.
"I was scared, but curious," he continued. "So I went up to the house. There was a homeless boy that used to live in this town that was my age. I saw him often, and he would always wander around and beg for money. Then a little bit before that time, he disappeared and no one ever saw him again. And because he was homeless, no one really batted an eye or looked for him. One day he asked me what time it was while he sat on a street corner and begged, and I felt so bad for him that I gave him the very watch off my wrist. So when I climbed up the hill that day and found the watch I'd given him half-buried in the mud not far from the house, I had a sinking feeling that I knew what happened to him.
"The darkness was just starting to set in, and I crept up to the house quietly so I wouldn't be seen or heard. There was a light on in the basement, and I snuck up to the window and peered inside. I saw a pair of shoes sitting on a messy table, with a pile of clothes next to it. I recognized those clothes and those shoes, because I saw them on the boy every day. I leaned closer to the window to get a better look, and I saw a foot lying on a table. I couldn't see the rest of his body from my angle, but in trying to do so, my head bumped into the glass.
"The witch jumped into view in the basement, and I saw her face clearly. I'll never forget that image. The next thing I know, I'm running away through the woods, and I hear the door of her house open behind me and her crazed, incessant cries. She chased me, and she wouldn't stop. I got tired, but she kept going. She eventually caught up to me and tripped me, grabbing onto my leg and dragging me back toward her house. But I managed to kick her and knock her down. I looked around for the biggest stick I could find, and when I found one, I hit her in the head with it. She fell over, and I ran. I never stopped, but I kept checking over my shoulder to see if she was coming after me. Just before she was out of view, I saw her rise, but I was far enough away. After that, I never went near that house again until after she was killed. I tried telling everyone what happened to me and the other boy at the time, but no one believed me. Everyone started treating me like I was crazy. And throughout all the years since then, I've done a lot of research on witches, because I saw a big black cauldron sitting in her basement, and I couldn't figure out what it was for."
Carmen and Tommy were both on the edge of the couch, their eyes wide.
"So she really is a witch," Tommy muttered.
"But it looks like she didn't really die," Peter added.
"How do we stop her?" Carmen asked, a steely determination in her eyes.
Peter sighed. "I don't know," he admitted. "Everything I know about dealing with witches are with ones that are still alive. How do you kill something that's already dead?"
"Well you must know something after all these years!" Carmen cried.
"I'll look into it," he said. "Can you kids meet me tomorrow morning at the school?"
"But that's already Halloween," Carmen protested. "We don't have much time."
"I know," he said. "But I'm going to need some time to study. In the meantime, do you still have that witch mirror I told you about?"
"Witch mirror?" Carmen said, confused. "What's that?" She reached into her pocket and pulled up the necklace with the rose-colored stone that had glowed the night before and was now back to its normal appearance. "You mean this?"
He nodded. "It's called a witch mirror," he reiterated. "It's magically charged to repel spells that the witch casts. It's not a cure-all for everything she does, but it will help protect you. Make sure you keep it with you and your brother at all times." Peter stood up and walked to the living room window, looking around suspiciously.
The squirrel jumped down from the windowsill and darted off into a bush.
Peter turned back to the two of them. "Remember, tomorrow at the school, as early as you can come. I'll be there."
Carmen and Tommy nodded and thanked him, then they left.
After they were gone, Peter puttered around his kitchen, fixing himself some tea. A car went by outside the window, but he wasn't paying attention. His mind was racing about all the information he told the kids, and he tried to figure out how to stop what was going on.
A car door slammed shut outside.
Peter perked up, hearing footsteps approaching his door. Then a knock came. He set down his tea and quietly walked around to the front door, peering through the peephole. He saw two police officers standing on his porch. He held his breath and waited, unsure of what to do.
"Open up, sir, we know you're in there," one of them said.
Peter sighed, then he opened the door. "Good afternoon, officers. What can I help you with?"
"Would you turn around and put your hands behind your back, please?" Don said.
"What's this about?" Peter asked.
Don grabbed him and forcefully turned him around as his partner pulled out handcuffs and slapped them on his wrists.
"What am I being charged with?"
"You have the right to remain silent..." Don started as they carried him off to the cruiser and carted him off to jail.
Back-Alley Spat
Carmen and Tommy walked down the street, heading past the town square downtown. They glanced over at it, and each felt a chill roll up their spine. They couldn't feel any effects from the sigil, but now that they were armed with the information that it fed off of their fear, they tried to stay in control of their thoughts and take a calmer approach and attitude to everything.
Townspeople walked around them on the foggy day, slipping in and out of stores. Cars rolled by slowly and unevenly. A black Ford pickup truck rolled forward and veered out of its lane too much, and the front bumper crunched into a parked car on the side of the street.
Carmen and Tommy looked at it wide-eyed as the driver backed up, then casually drove off as if nothing happened.
"So what should we do between now and tomorrow when we meet Peter at the school?" Tommy asked.
Carmen considered this for a moment. "Hmm, I don't know. I do know that we should keep our outings to the daytime only. And at night, we'll stay inside and use the witch mirror."
Tommy nodded.
"Even if we can't stop the witch by tomorrow night," Carmen said, "hopefully it will all blow over after that."
"But what about the kids that've been taken?"
A heaviness was pinned to her heart at the words, and her lip trembled in sadness.
They carried on down the street, distracted, as a silver sedan sped by in front of them and smashed into a telephone pole. The driver was thrown out the windshield and crumpled into the pole himself, hi
s limp body coming to rest on the mangled hood of the car.
Carmen and Tommy yelped and they both backed up, bumping into the wall of a store. They stared at the scene in horror and then slowly looked around to find everyone else going about their business as normal. A few passersby glanced at the accident, but most ignored it completely like they didn't even see it.
The two of them were speechless as they stood rooted on the spot for what seemed like forever, then Carmen finally pulled Tommy away from the scene. They both walked down the street, feeling numb. Their bodies were shaking, and their blood turned white. They only lasted another block before Tommy told her that he was feeling sick. There was a convenience store next to them, and Carmen told him to go in and use the bathroom. He shuffled through the door, and she waited outside in the cold for him to get back. Her body shook terribly from the horrifying incident she just witnessed, and she tried to keep her own thoughts in check, remembering not to get scared. But if they had gotten to that stretch of road just ten seconds sooner, they may have been badly hurt.
Strange feelings washed over her aside from the shock, and they were those same familiar sensations she'd experienced a couple times on previous nights. She knew now that they were the first symptoms of what everyone else in the town was experiencing. If they had control over them to the degree that she was seeing now, then the townspeople must have really been so far gone to it. She shuddered to think what would become of her if she let herself do the same.
Shouting came from a nearby alley. Carmen took a few strides over to the entrance of it and peeked around the corner.
The narrow alley stretched between stores to the backs of them where all the supplies and garbage were carried in and out. And standing there was Brett, his sister Stacy, and her boyfriend that they'd seen in the car before.
"Vince, stop!" Stacy said.
Vince ignored her. He shoved Brett on the shoulder, easily two or three times his size and age. "I know you took them, you little twerp," he said.
"I didn't take your c-cigarettes," Brett stammered, trying to stand up for himself.
"Like hell," Vince retorted. He wound his arm back and punched Brett in the stomach.
"Brett!" Stacy cried.
He sank down to his knees and fell over on the cold concrete.
"Whatever, I'm out of here," Vince said. "You owe me for those smokes, baby," he said to Stacy as he took another alley out of there.
Stacy looked up at him with hatred, then she turned her attention back to her little brother. "Brett? Brett! Are you okay?"
Brett writhed on the ground and moaned, cradling his stomach.
Stacy began crying, and the hot tears streaked down her face and turned the whites of her eyes red. She looked up suddenly and saw Carmen staring at her in surprise. Instead of asking her for help, instead of just simply being embarrassed, Stacy shot up to her feet and came toward her.
"What do you think you're looking at?!" she demanded, marching on the warpath for her.
Carmen took a step back, slowly raising her hands. "I..." It wasn't the reaction she expected.
Now Stacy's face was red with embarrassment that Carmen had witnessed all of that. "What, you think this is funny?" she shouted.
"I don't," Carmen said calmly.
But Stacy wouldn't relent. "You think this is a joke?!" She stepped forward and shoved Carmen's chest.
Carmen regained her footing and stood up to Stacy. "Hey! I just saw you guys back there. I didn't mean anything by it!" She wasn't about to back down from Stacy, and she tried her best to remain calm. She felt bad for her and Brett, but Stacy wasn't being very accommodating.
Stacy pushed her again, and in anger, Carmen pushed her back. Despite that, Carmen tried to stay calm. But when Stacy slapped her across the face, all bets were off.
Carmen's hand balled up into a fist as her eyes slowly dragged up to Stacy's face—her target.
"W-What's going on?" Tommy asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Stacy and Carmen turned and saw him standing there, looking up at them with bewildered eyes. Now the scene was becoming even more embarrassing for Stacy, but she wouldn't dare hit a child. So she turned her ire on Carmen one last time and spit on her. The ball of saliva sailed through the air and landed on Carmen's neck, then Stacy turned and marched back for Brett.
"Come on, get up," she said, picking him up to his feet and marching him out the other exit as he groaned.
Carmen watched her go, her eyes narrow, as she wiped the spit off with the sleeve of her coat.
Road Trip
The library was dead silent, with no one in there except for the one woman working at the front. Tommy kept casting suspicious glances over his shoulder down the aisles next to them, like someone would be sneaking up on them at any moment.
Carmen turned the knob of the microfilm reader, looking through old newspapers from throughout the town's history. She had already gone back fifty years, not seeing anything at all about the witch. It seemed that truly no one had ever talked about her when she was living in that house, but what she wanted to know more than anything was just how long she had been living there.
"I'm not finding anything," Carmen said.
Tommy leaned over her shoulder and looked at a newspaper from 1961. "When the clues aren't coming to you, try a new approach," he said. "That's the mark of a go—"
"Good adventurer," Carmen finished, rolling her eyes.
He grabbed the dial from her and twisted it all the way back, going into newspapers from the 1800s.
"I think this is about as far back as you can go," Carmen said. Some of the papers weren't very well-kept, and the print was hard to read on the screen. They both strained their eyes as Carmen took control again and cycled through them.
Their small town seemed a lot smaller back then based off the headlines they were reading, but when they got to a newspaper from 1884, Tommy pointed to the screen.
"What?" Carmen asked.
"Go back, I think I saw something."
She obliged, then she waited for him to point it out.
"There!"
Carmen strained her eyes, as staring at all that type had started to give her a headache, and she saw the headline he was pointing out.
Occult Gypsies from Bulgaria Chased out of Haverford, the headline read.
Carmen read the article carefully. "Oh my God, Tommy, you're a genius!" Tommy smirked. "It says here that a small family immigrated from Bulgaria sometime in the 1870s, and as soon as they arrived, mysterious things started happening in the town." She turned to her brother and smacked him on the shoulder.
"I've heard of Haverford," Tommy said. "That's a few towns over, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Carmen said. "This also says that some of the townsfolk were being... 'mind-controlled' by the Gypsies until the townspeople chased them out. It says they were exiled and then..." She gulped. "...burned at the stake." Carmen turned the dial on the microfilm reader to see the rest of the article. "One got away," she read. "They said she wandered into the woods, taking refuge in them. The townspeople left her alone after that because she kept to herself, but they called her... Look, Tommy, it's right here! They called her the 'Witch of Haverford'." She spun around in her seat and faced him.
Tommy looked up, trying to do the math in his head.
"That means she was over a hundred years old when she died," Carmen said.
"If she was old enough to go into the woods by herself and build a house, then she would've been way older than a hundred," he said.
"How's that possible?"
"Magic?" Tommy suggested.
Carmen smirked and rustled his hair.
"Why does everyone keep doing that?" Tommy asked, fixing it.
Carmen turned back to the microfilm reader and scrolled through more articles, going through them quickly and skimming over the years. But she didn't spot anything else that seemed to relate to the so-called "Witch of Haverford", and if the stories everyone had told he
r recently were accurate, it seemed like there were probably not many stories to tell because she truly did live in seclusion for the most part, at least secretly. But now that tenuous truce was broken and she was having her revenge.
"Does it say how to stop her?" Tommy asked.
Carmen scoffed. "Yeah, like that would be printed in the newspaper. 'Step one: drop a house on the witch. Step two: live happily ever after,'" she said in a big, sarcastic voice.
"And we've lived right next to her our whole lives?" Tommy asked incredulously. "Next to an actual witch?"
A strained look came over Carmen's face. She was more worried about the part of the article that talked about mind-controlling the townspeople. She looked at her brother. "I think we need to follow Dad."
"Why?"
"Because we've both seen how strange everyone's been acting. But most of them just look cranky or distracted. And Dad seems different. It's almost like sometimes his actions aren't his own, like someone's..."
"...Mind-controlling him," Tommy supplemented, his eyes growing wide at the realization.
They snuck across the vehicle pool behind the police station, keeping their eyes peeled for any officers walking nearby. They found their father's cruiser parked in his main spot, and they tried one of the back doors, elated to see that it was unlocked.
"Come on," Carmen said to her brother, and he climbed into the car. She joined him, then she shut the door quietly behind her. Their father had some old boots, a big work bag, and a large jacket strewn across the back, and they lay themselves as close to the floor as they could get, covering themselves with all of the junk.
"Do you think he's gonna come anytime soon?" Tommy asked, coming straight to the important question.
"I hope so," she said.
They both waited, quickly growing uncomfortable as their bodies were twisted into odd shapes. It became harder to breathe for them under all of that stuff, but at least their breaths warmed up the car a bit. Carmen twisted her neck up and could just see out of the window from where she was. She watched as the clouds rolled by the gray sky and they listened to the faint sounds outside.
The Witch of Halloween House Page 9