by Harper Lin
“Can I make goo-goo eyes at you from across the café?”
“If you must.” I chuckled.
“Can I draw little hearts with ‘CG plus TW forever’ on my napkin?”
“I won’t stop you.”
“Can I express my feelings for you in a poem accompanied by some interpretive dance?”
“I promised Aunt Astrid and Bea none of my suitors would do that anymore. You’ll have to come up with something else.”
For a few minutes at my front door, we kissed.
He got into his truck and waved goodbye as he pulled out of the driveway. I had forgotten all about Evelyn Elderflower.
Treacle must have felt very comfortable too. He stretched his paws out in front of him and yawned.
“Ready for bed, kitty?”
“Yes.” He hopped off the armchair and sauntered to the bedroom. I quickly put on my pajamas, washed my face, and brushed my teeth and was under the covers, feeling the heaviness of sleep falling over me, within minutes. It was a little after eleven.
I couldn’t say what time it was when I became aware that something was wrong. My bedroom was still dark. In fact, I thought it was unusually dark, as if there might have been a power outage. You didn’t realize how black darkness could be until all the outside lights you’d become used to were suddenly snuffed out.
That was my thought. A transformer had blown somewhere. The cold temps caused a wire to snap. Was the temperature in the house getting colder? The heat was electric, so it might be necessary to put on a few extra layers of clothes. But I could hear the hum of the furnace. There was no power outage.
So why was everything so dark? I tried to turn over to see the clock. At first, I thought that my body was just being lazy. My mind had woken up before my limbs had a chance to catch up. Sure. Why not? But as I tried to move, as I tried to turn my head to the right, I felt the panic start to spread. I couldn’t move.
It was as though someone had put weights on my arms, legs, and chest. I could breathe. I could see. But I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed. The blackness around me was so complete I had to squint to see if there was something holding me down. Had I gotten tied up? Had something fallen on my chest, holding me in place? But there was nothing there. Nothing that I could see. I tried to call out, but my voice was barely a whisper.
The adrenaline kicked in, making my heart pound wildly in my chest. Still, I couldn’t move a muscle. My mouth felt as if it had been glued shut. Using every bit of strength I had, I pried my lips apart.
“Treacle.” I felt my throat strain as I screamed in my head, but just a pitiful hiss came from my lips. Lying flat on my back, I felt completely exposed and vulnerable. What was happening? My breath came in panicked gasps. I was desperate to break these bonds, but nothing was working. In my mind, I could hear myself screaming for help. But only mumbles came out.
“Cath!” The voice wasn’t mine. It wasn’t Treacle. It was croaky and sinister, and I was terrified to admit that it was in my room and in my head at the same time.
As that thought entered my head, I saw the movement at the foot of my bed. I could only say that the thing began to unfold itself like a spider in the final stages of molting. First one arm appeared, stretching high up then bending at the elbow. The second arm slithered up and did the same. The hands were on the mattress. I felt them push against the springs as the thing pushed its torso up. A hunched body rolled up slowly, vertebra by vertebra until it towered over my bed. I still didn’t see the head of the thing. I didn’t want to. But my eyes were transfixed on it.
In my head, I was screaming. My lips twitched, but it felt as if my mouth were sewn shut. I could not utter a single word. Only pathetic whimpers came out. Even those, I couldn’t be sure would have been audible to anyone. What if I was only hearing them in my head?
If only I could just move my arm. I struggled to make a fist. If I could muster enough strength to wiggle a pinky, I could break the spell. Terror sank its talons in my heart as I stared at the thing at the end of my bed as the head finally rolled up.
It was slow and deliberate, as a cobra might raise its head as it prepared to attack. The thing kept getting bigger and bigger until I was sure it had filled my entire room. Still, I tried to pull myself out of the bed. Even to fall on the floor would be better than facing this black shadowy thing. As I stared, still screaming in my head with no sound coming out of my mouth, it opened its eyes. They were red slits that glared back at me. These were the eyes of the rat that Treacle had seen in the corner. It wasn’t a rat at all.
Before I could blink back the tears of terror that were pooling in my eyes, I saw something else. The teeth. That blackness, the most hopeless and deep blackness I’d ever seen, peeled back to reveal jagged teeth behind an evil grin. This monster began to lean closer. First the left arm crawled over my legs, then the right followed. I felt its weight pushing the entire mattress into the floor.
If it got to my face, I would die. I just knew it. Something inside said I’d die of fright and it would steal my soul. It would eat it or shred it or something equally horrifying. If only I could move. If only I was strong enough to scream.
The head wagged back and forth as it hissed and growled. Inside my head, I could hear thousands of screaming voices that were saying something to me. I couldn’t make out the words, but the tone of the voices was unmistakable. They hated me.
“You!”
That voice, I recognized.
“I’m not through with you!”
It was Treacle. Suddenly, he was on my chest, facing the shadow person and hissing madly. He was furious. His fur stood out. His mouth was pulled back to reveal his sharp teeth, and thankfully, I could feel his claws through the blanket. I was never so happy to feel those sharp needles as I was then.
The shadow recoiled and swatted at Treacle, who returned the blow in kind. It was as if I were watching a film run backward on a reel. The shadow person screamed in all its hideous voices and slithered back to the edge of the bed. Before it folded itself back up, it pointed and glared at me.
Treacle lunged at the thing, swiping his sharp claws, but before he could snag it, the thing disappeared. At that same second, I sat bolt upright in bed.
13
Shadowy Figure
“Cath! My gosh! What on earth happened? Quick. Come inside.”
My aunt tugged her robe closed against the chill in the air. I barely had my snow boots on and a thin throw blanket around my shoulders with Treacle in my arms.
“Can I stay with you tonight?” I sniffled.
“Of course you can.” She shut and locked the door behind me and led me into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry I woke you up,” I said as I set Treacle down on the floor. Within seconds, Marshmallow was in the living room, asking what had happened while giving Treacle a loving nudge with her head.
“I was actually awake. Now, tell me what happened.”
I looked at the clock and nearly choked. It was barely after midnight. I was sure that it was at least three in the morning. It felt as if I had been trapped on that bed for hours. But Tom had just left a little over an hour prior.
Over a steaming-hot cup of tea, I told my aunt what had just gone on at my house. The more I told her, the more serious her expression became. It was the first time I was more afraid of my aunt’s response than what I had told her about.
“So? What do you think?”
I knew what it meant when my aunt didn’t answer right away. It meant she was waiting for the anger to subside. She’d had the same reaction a couple times when I was in high school. One particular time that came to mind was when I had almost been suspended for three days for finally standing up to Darla Castellan. It was senior year and about time I did something.
Darla was running off at the mouth about my best bud, Min Parks. He was a gentle, peaceful guy and the perfect target for a bully. I’d heard Darla making fun of him and told her I’d make sure she didn’t make it to graduation if she didn’t stop talking
about him.
In all honesty, my plot had been to break my aunt’s rule just once and use my magic to give Darla an award-winning case of boils or maybe have her develop a twenty-four-hour goiter. It would be enough to keep her out of graduation—give her a big dose of humility.
My aunt knew that was all I was capable of. Bea knew it.
But when Darla had the nerve to report me to Vice Principal Lewis, I was fit to be tied. For four years, that bimbo had used me to sharpen her claws, and then she had the nerve to tell on me?
I sat in Lewis’s office and waited for my aunt to arrive. When she finally showed up, I wasn’t sure who was more scared. Me or him.
“You understand we have to take every threat seriously, Mrs. Greenstone.”
My aunt sat there and stared at Lewis for a long while. He squirmed in his seat as she studied him.
“It’s just so out of character for Cath to lash out. We know she and Miss Castellan have had clashes in the past. We felt this time it was necessary to call you.” It was a real treat to watch him stutter.
“So what do you think we should do about the situation, Mrs. Greenstone?”
Aunt Astrid was not looking at the dimensions around Vice Principal Lewis. She was staring right at him. Her face was not the gentle, soft face I was used to seeing every day. It was fixed and focused, as if she was taking aim. After a solid minute of staring right at him, my aunt finally gave Lewis an answer.
“Mr. Lewis, my niece has been going to school here for four years. How many times have I been in your office?”
“I believe this is the first time.”
“Mr. Lewis, she’s never been in your office in four years, but two weeks before graduation, you call me in to tell me she might be suspended for threatening a classmate. The classmate that has been harassing her for four years.”
“I-I had no idea that was taking place,” he stuttered.
“You just told me you knew the girls had clashes in the past. Are you lying?”
“Well, I meant to say that…”
My aunt sat there stoically while Mr. Lewis blathered on about what he meant and what he said, and before the meeting was over, he was telling my aunt there would be no repercussions and this would be chalked up as a learning experience for everyone involved.
She had won that battle for me. It looked as if she was ready for another round, except this one, the bully wasn’t just the popular girl in high school. She called this bully the Gazzo.
“You look exhausted.” My aunt put her hand gently underneath my chin. “Like you’ve been up for days. Go on into my room and get some sleep.”
Aunt Astrid had the biggest bedroom in the house. Her four-poster bed was piled high with downy mattress covers and a down comforter that would make the most delicate Southern belle swoon with envy.
“Will you be coming in there soon?”
“I should sleep in the bed with you?” she asked as if she were my own mother.
I nodded.
“Well, I’ve got a few things to do first. How about Marshmallow and Treacle join you for starters.”
Both cats heard the call and slunk bravely up to wrap lovingly around my ankles.
“Come on, Cath. We’ll take first watch,” Treacle said.
“Okay. Thanks, Aunt Astrid,” I mumbled.
It wasn’t until I woke up the next morning that I realized my aunt had never come to bed. Treacle and Marshmallow were curled up on the bed, one at my head and the other at my feet. I also found an extra body lying along my side. Bea’s cat, Peanut Butter, had joined the watch.
I could smell coffee and heard quiet voices talking. They were not like the voices I heard screaming at me in my head. They were gentle, loving, and familiar.
As I shuffled down the stairs and to the kitchen, I saw Bea and her mom sitting in front of a roaring fire with several of Aunt Astrid’s books on witchcraft spread out in front of them.
Before I could say anything, the cats bounded down the stairs first.
“You’re up. You poor thing.” Bea jumped up and ran to hug me. “What an ordeal. Let me fix you some tea.” She turned and went to the kitchen.
“Did you get any sleep?” I asked my aunt.
“I was busy doing research.”
“On the shadowy figure in my bedroom.” I shuddered before grabbing a patchwork quilt to throw around my shoulders.
“That and our friends the Elderflowers.” Aunt Astrid winked.
“What did you find out about them? And how?”
“Mom pulled an all-nighter and went hard-core digging on those people. Hard-core,” Bea said over the running tap. “She hasn’t told me anything. Said we need to wait until tonight.”
“Tonight? How come?” I pouted. “The sooner I know what that thing was, the sooner we can get our mojos together and knock the thing back to the eighth dimension where it belongs.”
“Tonight, girls. I promise. Right now, we need to get ready for work. And you are not going back into your house until I’ve done a thorough smudging of the place. You’re obviously long overdue.”
A smudging was the practice of cleaning all the negativity and bad boogies out of a house. My aunt was particularly good at them. She had a way of waving the sage bundle that made the ringlets of smoke look like links of a chain before they dissipated.
14
Augury
By the time Bea flipped the Open sign to Closed, we were ready to burst. Aunt Astrid had kept us in the dark all day long. She would not address the monster that attacked last night or talk about Evelyn. It was infuriating.
“Okay, girls. Bea, grab that leftover spinach salad. Cath, there is a bag of honey crisp apples in the kitchen. Go get them, and both of you come to the bunker.”
Within seconds, we were down in the cozy hideaway.
“Do you need these things for a spell?” I asked as I set the bag of apples on a small side table next to the love seat.
“No. I didn’t eat today, and I’m hungry. You both need to eat something too. We are going to need to keep our strength up for this one.”
Reluctantly, I took a heaping paper plate full of spinach salad from Bea, who handed it over with the most defiant look on her face. Vegetables and me weren’t the best of friends. Aunt Astrid handed me a giant apple, and I doled out the bottled water.
“Last night after you arrived, Cath, I had an augury.”
Bea and I both held our breath.
“An augury?” Bea immediately began to panic. “Like when we were kids?”
We hadn’t heard the word augury for over a decade. It was in reference to an incident that happened when Bea and I were still in high school. We had come home laughing and gossiping, as sixteen-year-old girls were prone to do. When we walked into the house, we both felt the shift in the air. Something was wrong. Bea and I didn’t live in the house that Aunt Astrid lived in now. She and my uncle Eagle Eye lived in a cute farmhouse on the other side of town. It creaked and groaned and held all the nooks and crannies farmhouses had, like a fruit cellar, a tornado shelter, and a pantry off the kitchen. There were decorative wrought-iron grates over the heating vents and two ceiling fans on the front porch.
“Mom?” Bea called, but we got no answer.
“Marshmallow?” I called telepathically. “Marshmallow? Are you here?”
We split up and darted through the house. It was Bea’s scream that made me run from the pantry up the flight of stairs to Aunt Astrid’s bedroom.
My aunt was sobbing in the corner of the room.
“What are you doing home?” she cried.
“Mom. We’re out of school. Of course we’re home,” Bea said. “What’s the matter? What happened?”
Aunt Astrid just shook her head. She wouldn’t say anything as she pushed herself to her feet. Bea went to hug her, and that was when it happened.
“Don’t touch me!” Aunt Astrid screamed, making us both jump back. “Don’t you dare touch me!”
She stormed out of the room, hy
sterical, and locked herself in the bathroom.
We were terrified. But what could we do?
“Where is Marshmallow?” I put my hand on Bea’s shoulder to steady her. “Maybe she knows what happened.”
This time, Bea and I stayed together. We held hands like two little girls as we searched in all the rooms, starting with the basement. Like all cats, Marshmallow liked it in the dark, where she prowled for mice and spiders and the occasional snake that would work its way into the house. But she wasn’t there.
We searched the main floor, even checking in the china cabinet and hall coat closet. Nothing. Finally, back upstairs, we heard the heart-wrenching sound of Aunt Astrid trying to control her crying. But in addition to that, there was an answer.
I was screaming the cat’s name in my head while Bea called out for her. Finally, I heard a faint reply.
“Here! I’m here!” It was coming from high up.
“The attic? What in the world is she doing up there?”
The attic was a place Bea and I would occasionally spend time, especially in the winter when the hot air from the furnace would rise and make it toasty warm.
Instead of having a trap door in the ceiling and a ladder that would cascade down, we got to the attic by a short flight of steep steps that were hidden in a hall closet.
My aunt kept empty mason jars and a couple boxes of Christmas decorations and normal things stacked on the steps.
Bea and I bolted over them like Olympic runners. Marshmallow was at the small square window when we finally reached her. She jumped into my arms, clawing and trembling terribly.
“What happened to Mom?” Bea sobbed.
Marshmallow pushed her head against my chin.
“Marshmallow? What happened to Aunt Astrid?” I asked her.
“We were sitting in the kitchen. You know how she had been trying to map some of the portals she saw.”
My aunt had extensive notes on some of the dimensions she had been able to see. Some of them, she even visited briefly in a remote viewing capacity. For her own knowledge and for posterity, she was diagramming them. Some people scrapbooked. My aunt drew blueprints to other dimensions.