“Thanks. And you’re looking very virginal.” She eyed me from bottom to top, blinking when she got to Brendon’s jacket. Simone leaned closer, subtly sniffing it. Her eyes widened. I got goose bumps when she immediately looked beyond me. Her gaze swept the front yard before locking with mine. She tugged playfully on the collar of the jacket. “This is an interesting touch. Danny Zuko’s?”
I laughed. “No, but it is borrowed. It’s cooler out than I thought it’d be.”
Simone looked past me again as if expecting to find someone standing on her lawn. I saw her disappointment as she stepped back to clear the way for us. “Come into my parlor.”
Said the spider to the fly…?
She laughed at my expression. “I have a fire going. You guys can warm up.”
I’d never been more creeped out and felt a rush of sympathy for Brendon. No wonder he didn’t come up on the porch. “We really can’t. It’s past the boys’ bedtime.”
“Please? I’ve been decorating all day for a party. I want a second opinion before my guests start arriving. Besides, I want you to taste the apples. They’re very special.”
Oh how I wanted to refuse, but how could I without being rude? Besides… What could she really do to us? It wasn’t as if real witches existed. Squaring my shoulders, I bravely entered the house with a child hanging on each elbow. Hot air blasted us, oppressive compared to the crisp autumn night.
“Love what you’ve done with the place.” I lied, of course. I’d never seen anything tackier—velvet furnishings, purple twinkle lights, fake spider webs, dry-ice smoke, and too many pumpkins. As in carved, illuminated, and placed on every step of the curved staircase leading to the second floor. I thought of poor Brendon, lugging them inside for her while wearing that leather get-up of his. It’s a wonder he hadn’t passed out from the heat. “It’s definitely got your touch.”
Simone preened. “Glad you like it.”
“Um, hate to rush you, but we really need to go. The boys are dead on their feet.”
“Of course. I’ll get the apples.” She left us alone in the room with its uneven floors and slanting walls. I felt a little off kilter, like a kid in a funhouse. I saw flames licking logs in the fireplace, what looked like a cauldron dangling over them, and an ornate black urn sitting on the mantle. Uncle Clifford? Ew. All the place needed was Michael Jackson and his pop-drop-and-lock zombies, descending the stairs through the sneering pumpkins to eat us.
We waited and waited for Simone’s return. Finally, sweating like a glass of iced tea on a summer day, I slipped out of the jacket and draped it over my arm.
“Simone? Si-mo-one?”
No answer.
So much for being polite. I’d had enough. I turned the boys toward the door. Simone stood in front of it.
We all screamed bloody murder. Didn’t mean to. She just surprised it out of us, as in how in the heck had she gotten there?
Before I could recover enough to make a joke or soothe my brothers, who’d started boo-hooing, someone began banging loudly on the front door. Simone, now smiling slyly, pivoted and opened it.
Brendon, of course. He looked from me to Simone to me again, clearly confused. “I heard screams—”
“Brendon! So glad you changed your mind about the party.” Simone reached for him.
He took a hasty step back. “Actually, I’m just here to get them.”
Simone pouted and twitched a finger. Brendon staggered into the room, arms flailing, and landed in a heap at our feet. The door slammed shut behind him. The boys and I screamed again. I held both close to me as I backed against a huge armoire. Something inside it groaned.
I squealed and twisted us in another direction. What a nightmare!
Wake up, Maggie. Please wake up.
But I didn’t.
Brendon scrambled to his feet and whirled on Simone, his arms outstretched to keep her away. “What do you want from us?”
“Nothing from those three, now that you’re here. Shall I pass out the apples and send them packing?”
As if I’d let my guys touch one. Clearly Uncle Clifford had died from natural causes, as in belladonna. “We’re not leaving without Brendon.”
“But I need him.”
“For what?”
“His eyes. His gorgeous blue eyes. They’re so rare I can’t even find any on the internet anymore, and some of my best spells just won’t work without them.” Simone winked at me. “Don’t worry. I won’t kill him. I need a new pet.” She flicked a tell-tale glance at the armoire.
I gasped and got farther away from the thing. Uncle Clifford had amazing blue eyes. Is that why she married him? And had she lured us here to get the twins’ eyes, too? My blood ran cold.
“Forget the apples,” said Brendon. “Just let them go.”
“If you insist.” Simone pointed at the door. It swung open. “Run far; run fast; don’t tell…or else. You’ve seen what I can do. He’ll be dead long before he’s rescued.”
I looked helplessly at Brendon. “But—”
“Go, Maggie. Take care of your brothers.” The boys, obviously in agreement, began pulling on my skirt, sobbing as they dragged me toward the door. But I couldn’t take my eyes off Brendon, even when he motioned for me to hurry. “Run, dammit!”
We tripped across the threshold onto the porch. The door slammed shut against my shoe. I heard the click of the lock. Grabbing my cell, I thrust it at Caden. “Go straight to Brendon’s truck. Get inside, lock the doors, and call Dad. Then stay put until he gets here, you hear me?”
They hauled butt without asking a single question, bless ‘em. I deliberately put my brothers out of my head as I turned to face the door again and pressed my ear against the wood. I heard the sounds of a struggle—things being knocked over, pounding footsteps, a startled yelp. I tried the latch. It didn’t budge.
Desperate to save Brendon, I jumped over the steps and charged around the house to the back. I found a large, screened-in porch with another locked door. It took precious seconds to find a stick and poke a hole in that rusty screen. I then widened the opening enough to fumble for the lock, which turned out to be the old hook and latch type. I flipped it up.
The hinges squeaked when I slipped through it and made my way past a table covered in pots with stuff growing in them. Several scents assaulted me as I tiptoed to the door—mint, basil, rosemary, elderberry. Though a sheer black curtain hung over the next door, I could make out movement in what looked like the kitchen. I thought I heard Simone’s voice and a man’s sharp reply. Was someone else in there besides Brendon? Heart hammering, I gently tried the knob. Locked, of course. Now what? If I broke out the glass, I’d be heard for sure. That might get my brothers in trouble or startle Simone into hasty action we’d all regret.
Remembering every slasher movie I’d ever avoided, I left the porch and walked far enough away from the house to get a view of the upper floors. I noticed roses climbing a lattice trellis to the right and how slanted the porch roof was. I wedged the toe of my shoe into one of the diamond-shaped openings and began to climb even though that thing had to be as old as the house.
My dress proved to be as troublesome as it was ugly while I ascended. If it didn’t hang on rusty nails or rose thorns, it caught in the buckle of my shoe. Worse, more than one criss-cross section of lattice gave way to my weight. Somehow I made it. But crawling onto the roof proved to be impossible until I took off the jacket and skinnied out of that stupid dress, which I gratefully dropped to the ground.
Dressed only in my bra, matching boy shorts, and Brendon’s leather jacket, which thankfully covered most of my butt, I made my way across the shingles to a second-story window. My knees were bleeding by the time I got where I needed to be.
Loud music suddenly blared, possibly from the kitchen below. Nosferatu, big surprise. I thanked whatever lucky stars had survived the evil night for that loud noise and kicked the glass. Seconds later, I was in.
The upstairs smelled horribly musty, and I couldn�
�t see squat, but I crept through what appeared to be a bedroom into a hall. Staying out of sight, I approached the second floor banister and cautiously peered over it. I saw and heard nothing but Nosferatu’s screaming guitars and the lead vocal’s wail.
What now? I wondered, as anxious to save Brendon as I was to avoid Simone and whoever assisted her.
Part of me wanted to laugh at what had to be the best Halloween prank ever. The other part, the part that stood half naked and trembling in the spookiest house on the planet, wanted to run like hell. But I refused to leave without my next boyfriend.
Just as the first song died, a loud yell made me jump a foot off the floor. A guy in pain. Without thought, I charged down the staircase into the parlor. I saw no one. The next song began to blast. Under cover of the sound, I made my way toward the kitchen. Every hair on my head stood on end. My heart thudded in my chest, keeping time with the harsh bass beat that rattled the walls and shook the floor.
Straining to hear anything, I slipped through the doorway into a kitchen with ancient fixtures and a nasty stove. I saw a table with an unfinished jack o’lantern sitting on it. I also saw a knife covered in pulp and stray seeds.
I snatched it up.
Another yell made me spin to my left. I spied an open door. Tiptoeing to it, I discovered stairs leading down to what had to be a basement. Could this get any worse? I wondered, quietly descending into unknown territory.
The music got louder with every step. My eardrums throbbed with it. I reached the bottom of the stairs and saw a distant light. Wielding my knife, I crept down a narrow hall with my back plastered against the wall. A spider web brushed across my cheek. I went nuts trying to get it off my face and instantly felt tiny legs crawling all over me.
A doorway loomed. I thought the faint light flickering beyond it might mean fire. I pictured a dungeon with glimmering torches, rusty shackles, and a sacrificial altar. How easily I imagined my boyfriend tied to it with Simone standing over him, a bejeweled dagger clasped in her hand so she could carve out his “delicious” blue eyes.
When I actually entered the room, I found Brendon tied to a chair. His head lolled to one side. A single, low watt light bulb dangled from a wire overhead, and threw shifting shadows onto the bare walls. Since Simone didn’t seem to be around, I ran straight to him and put my cheek to his heart. I heard a steady beat. Fighting tears, I began working the gag down and over his bottom lip.
“Brendon?”
Out cold. Had she drugged or poisoned him? And why had he yelled in pain? I saw why a nanosecond later—a deep slash just below his elbow on the inside. Blood trailed down his forearm, filling a fancy goblet sitting on the floor. I wanted to puke. Slapping his cheek, I tried to rouse him.
“Brendon, please! Wake up!”
He groaned. His eyelids fluttered, then raised enough to reveal dilated pupils. I panicked until I realized mine probably looked like that, too, thanks to the poor lighting.
“Are you okay?”
He gave me a blank stare and no answer.
“I’m getting you out of here.” I sawed through the nylon ropes that secured him. He sagged forward when the last loops fell to the dirt floor. I barely caught him and, only then, felt his rock solid build. I barely got him to the floor and knew I’d never be able to get him to freedom if he couldn’t help. And what about my little brothers, waiting in the truck and scared out of their minds?
Another Nosferatu song faded into silence. I listened for the sound of sirens. I heard nothing but my pulse pounding in my ears before the next song began.
What do I do? What do I do?
I realized I had one only one choice: somehow drag Brendon up the stairs and out the door to safety.
Unless…
Mustering my courage, I explored that windowless room and then made my way to the other end of the hall. I found another room there, this one small, and fumbled for a light switch. Wasn’t one. Even in the dark, I made out the shelves that lined the walls. I caught the glimmer of glass and realized bottles of every shape and size filled them. What I didn’t see was the outside door I’d hoped for. Turning, I caught my toe on a wooden box. My stumble sent me flying forward. My arm hit something—a shovel—that toppled into a stack of wooden crates that tumbled to the floor.
Craaash!
I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming and spun around, ready for Simone to descend on me. But she never came. And when I turned to find out what damage I’d done to the room, I saw a door, previously hidden by those boxes. A quick inspection revealed a ladder leading up to it, which mean it probably opened at ground level outside.
I darted into the hall and loped to where Brendon lay. Once again I listened for his heartbeat. Once again, I heard it. I got behind his head and slid my hands under his armpits. Lifting his upper body, I began dragging him to the door. He weighed a ton. Halfway there, he roused. I immediately eased his head to the floor and squatted beside him.
“Are you okay?”
It took a couple of seconds, but recognition dawned in his eyes. “Maggie?” He struggled to sit up, clearly in a panic. I helped him. “Where’s the witch bitch?”
“Probably on her way down here to slice and dice your baby blues. Can you walk?”
“Maybe.” Brendon got up, or tried to. He staggered into one wall, caught himself, then staggered into the other. Finally he seemed to steady enough to take a step. I ducked under his arm and guided him toward escape, both of us bouncing from side to side. When we finally reached the door, he climbed the ladder and used his shoulders and back to force it up and open. We scrambled out.
I hid behind the bushes to check out the lawn for trouble. Two shadows lurked behind a tall oak tree. I silently pointed to them. Brendon peered through the dark.
“Jack Sparrows,” he said, his mouth touching to my ear.
My heart dropped straight into my stomach. Why hadn’t my brothers stayed in the freakin’ truck? Terrified for them, I forgot danger and ran to them as fast as I could. “Corey! Caden!”
They nearly tackled me in their joy.
I kissed my precious brothers everywhere I could reach. “I told you to stay in Brendon’s truck.”
“It’s locked,” said Brendon from behind me.
“Crap!” Why hadn’t I thought of that? And what if she’d found them in the yard? Four blue eyes, just waiting to be popped into a potion. My stomach churned at the thought. I turned to Caden. “Did you call Dad?”
“No bars.”
“In the middle of town?” I grabbed the phone he offered me. Sure enough. No bars. How could that be?
“Let’s get out of here.” Brendon patted his pants pockets for his keys, then groaned. “Simone must have taken them.”
“Can you hotwire it?”
“Nope.”
“Then running like hell works for me.” I grabbed Caden by the hand. Brendon grabbed Corey. We charged toward the street, full speed ahead, for about ten yards.
The moan of the iron gate stopped us dead in our tracks. Brendon changed course, staggering a little when he did. I followed. We all dropped down behind a holly hedge just as robed visitors casually strolled up the sidewalk.
Full moon. Black cat. Coven. This could only happen in on a Hollywood movie set, right?
Wrong. Johnsonville clearly had a dark side, too.
“There’s something wet on me.” Though Corey whispered, I still shushed him. I reached for the hand he held out. It felt damp and sticky. I leaned back slightly for better light and saw something dark stained his palm and fingers. I realized what.
Blood.
Brendon’s blood…still dripping from that gash.
Shouldn’t it have clotted by now?
I put my mouth to his ear. “Did you drink anything in there?”
He answered just as quietly. “That goon of Simone’s poured something really gross right down my throat after he came out of nowhere and tackled me in the parlor. Had to swallow or drown.”
&nb
sp; Truly alarmed, I tried to think ahead. Dad’s office lay to the east, all the way across town. My mom’s ER lay a couple of miles to the south—better, but could Brendon make it that far? Even in the dark, he looked like a zombie.
The moment the last visitor entered the house, Brendon made the decision for me by grabbing Corey’s hands and once again charging the gate. I had no choice but to follow. Just before we hit the street at a dead run, an unearthly shriek split the night.
Brendon went right to his knees, taking Corey with him. Caden and I frantically tried to get them up. While he kept his eye on the house, I looked ahead, expecting Simone to suddenly appear right in front of us.
Corey managed to stand. The three of us helped Brendon to his feet. Gasping for breath, he motioned for us to go on without him.
“No way,” said Caden. Corey’s quick nod told Brendon he agreed. So proud of my brave brothers, I ducked under Brendon’s arm. Corey and Caden manned the other side. We helped Brendon get away as fast as he could, all the while anticipating attack. It had to be my worst moment in eighteen years.
About three blocks from the house, my phone beeped. With a gasp of joy, I stopped my entourage and checked for bars. Five whole ones, plus three missed calls, all from Dad. I pulled up his number and hit go.
“Where are you guys?” he asked instead of answering.
“In big trouble. I need you here now!”
“At the house?” One thing about my dad—he never panicked.
“No. We’re on Hecate Cove. Hurry, okay? Brendon’s bleeding. The boys are exhausted. And I’m scared to death Simone’s going to land her broomstick on our heads.”
The phone went dead in my ear. Since Brendon labored to breathe and walk, I guided him and the boys into a shadow cast by an enormous hedge so neatly shaped that I thought of Edward Scissorhands. We sat on the damp grass, waiting and hoping to be saved in time.
Were those sirens? Finally.
Thank you, Daddy!
When they sounded really close, I sprang from the shadows and waited. The flashing blue lights sent me to the curb, where headlights caught me frantically waving. Dad’s official white car screeched to a halt. He and one of his deputies leapt from it.
The Problem With Pumpkins Page 2